In Which I Am Willing to Trade My Kids and Pets For One Night of 8 Hour Sleep

I have this goal that I am going to get up at 6 a.m. and make my husband and kids a nice healthy breakfast in the morning. A breakfast that isn't a bagel or a bowl of cereal, which is all the kids get when Mr. Hobbitfeet makes breakfast. Well, sometimes he makes instant oatmeal. I really would love to make them scrambled egg whites.
So every night I go to bed thinking, "Tomorrow, I'll do it." Then the night hits me. No matter what time I physically go to bed, I cannot fall asleep until at least 12:30 a.m. (if I'm lucky). I just lie there thinking, completely unable to turn my brain off no matter what I do.
Mr. H. can lay down no matter what time of day or night and instantly be in a deep sleep, and once he's there nothing, NOTHING can wake him up (short of a high pitched scream directly in his ear or possibly a blow job, but who wants to go there?). I hate him.
The slightest thing wakes me up, a loud owl, a weird breeze. Sometimes, absolutely nothing will wake me up. I'll be asleep having nice dreams, and BAM! I am wide awake for no discernible reason. Every now and again (though much less if I take a sleep aid) I'll wake myself up as I am running screaming down the hall turning on every light in the house. Why do I do that? I never have any knowledge.
Then there are nights like last night. The dog, the cat, and Girl all decided that they needed to sleep with us. Despite being a queen-sized bed, there is no room for that shit. Of course, since Mr. H's feet go all the way to the bottom of the bed, they are all on my side. At first it was okay. Everyone took up some space, but we were all feeling cozy, but at 3 a.m. the cat and the dog remembered they hate each other and start brawling and I am trapped between Girl and Mr. H.
So everyone is kicked out. Girl is pt back in her own bed, which makes her cry for hours and the cat and dog are thrown out.
Of course, this isn't the end of it. I have to leave the door open in case one of my kids needs me, and the cat and t he dog aren't fooled for a second by my closing it most of the way, but leaving it open a crack. They keep pawing the door so it opens and then staring at me from the doorway before resuming their brawl.
Finally, I can't take it anymore. Even though it is a chilly night, I turn on my two fans for the white noise and dig myself deep into the covers. 4 a.m. and I am back asleep. Then 7:30 a.m. rolls around and I am awakened by Girl, once again in my bed, wanting me to tell her how many days it is until she can sleep over at my mom's farm, how many days until school starts, how to spell this and that, until I am fully awake with a pounding, not-enough-sleep-for-the fifth-night-in-a-row headache and every muscle sore from last night's battle with kids to big to carry and stupid pets.
"Go watch t.v. with your brother," I mumble, very much aware of the shitty parenting I am doing.
Five more minutes and I am wide awake because the dog is barking his "someone's here bark" which is much, much louder than his "there's a deer in our driveway" bark or his "there's a dog being walked and I can see it" bark. So I get up to make sure my kids aren't going to allow a religious nut into the house. But it is just Blondie, the kid whose is Boy's age and gets babysat by his Grandma who lives across the street. Luckily, Boy sends him away. Knowing I won't let him out until breakfast has been eaten and Mama is awake. Good ole Boy. He sure takes care of his Mom!
Maybe when I sell the pets and Girl (to the gypsies as my dad always said), I'll keep him around.

A Post About My Pets (Sorry)!

My daughter has never been a good sleeper. Her first night, a nurse came in at 3 a.m. and told me I had to wake her up and feed her, and she hasn't slept through the night since.
We recently got a kitten, and though my husband says I'm nuts, I think my dog is really jealous. At any rate I decided we shouldn't put the baby gate up at night any more. The dog is long past his chewing phase and I didn't think it's fair that the cat had free reign in the house and the dog didn't.
That being said, I won't let him sleep in my bed. So he's taken to sleeping with Girl, and guess what? When he sleeps with her, she sleeps through the night.

Yay!

Had I known about this, Mr. Giles would have been sleeping with Girl since we got him.

Even so, tonight he tried to sleep in my room. I picked him up and stuck him in my daughter's bed. If I have my way, he'll sleep there forever. Once you remember how nice it is not have to wake up three times a night and put your four-year-old back in bed, you can't go back.

Some Pictures

Boy with his ribbons from his last swim meet with the "Nads"





And look, they're friends now . . .





. . . sort of . . .

Meet Willow!

For reasons too numerous to go into here, we got a cat. A six-week old kitten to be exact.
We decided to ignore my son's hatred of all things feline (and also his allergy-after all he's been getting shots for almost two years now) and buy a cat; and I have to say he's really taken to her.

Girl wanted to name her Sandy (after the dog in Annie) and Boy wanted to name her Miss Kitty Fantastico (which is from Buffy). To compromise we all agreed on Willow to keep with the Buffy theme (my dog is named Mr. Giles) and not end up naming our gray cat "Sandy." Plus Girl likes Willow (especially when she's on How I Met Your Mother, Girl says she's really funny then- she doesn't understand about acting).

Anyway Giles is jealous, and eats her food, and they fight (like cats and dogs-sorry), but I think they'll warm up to each other eventually.

Snow Day!

With 4.7 inches and more falling, the kids and I are hanging at home. Mr. Hobbitfeet still had to go to work.















And don't forget Mr. Giles:

Blessings. Count 'em.

After my two weeks in hell, I am experiencing new joy in things that I've been taking for granted lately.

1.) I like my kids, a lot. I know that most moms love their kids, but I like mine too. They crack me up on a regular basis.
Although Boy seems quite foreign to me in his love of all things mathematical and scientific, he also is developing a sarcastic and silly way that is so me. I also love the side of him so rooted in fantasy. It's completely the opposite of his other side, that you wouldn't really think it could possibly co-exist yet it does.
Girl is freaking hilarious. She is so silly and so energetic. It's awesome to watch her play. Sometimes the things that come out of her mouth are so unexpected. Also (and maybe this is cruel) but she so knows how to push Boy's buttons. It is not in away that gets him mad, but that exasperates his 10-year-old sensibilities to a point that cracks me up. Like yesterday when we were in the doctor's office for Boy's allergy shots, Girl started making weird noises and flinging her hands everywhere. When asked what she was doing she said "Iiiiii'mmm beeeeinggg siiiillly" in a weird deep voice. Boy instantly scrunched down in his seat and hid behind his book, saying "Uh how embarrassing." Then on the way home Girl demanded to know the names of the boys in his class because she wanted a new boyfriend. Boy replied with a VERY shocked "But you don't know any of them!" It's awesome.
Plus, their dynamic reminds me so much of Meander and I when we were little it's scary.
2.)I love making good food for people. I could do without the chopping involved, but I love when people like what I have made. I'm sure Mr. Hobbitfeet wishes I'd cook more often, but I think maybe he wouldn't be so impressed if I made my dishes repeatedly.
3.) I like spending time with Mr. Hobbitfeet. We have a lot of fun and can actually talk to each other. I love watching TV with him, which makes the re-run break in which we find ourselves that much more annoying.
4.) I love my house, my trees (even though the recent frost killed all my dogwood blossoms), and my yard (even more so since we got the backyard cleaned up.
5.) I like my dog a lot more now that he doesn't use the inside of my house as a bathroom or chew up the kids toys. I also like him more now that I can let him come out front with us and not worry that he'll run away. It's fun to go out to the mailbox or to get the paper and have him trot along behind me. Now, if only the damn groomer didn't make him look like such a fluffy poodle, I'd be happy.

Spring Playing

Yesterday we were out enjoying the 63+ degree weather and I didn't take my March picture. instead I offer this lovely video of me and the kids playing. Or rather, the kids (and dog) attacking me.

I Suck

I give myself one blogging assignment and fail after only two days. Alas, I missed my March 3rd pictures because my sister, nephew, aunt, and grandma blew into town. So sue me. I can promise you didn't miss much, just a whole bunch of blowy snow that didn't stick. It's non-stickiness is proven by my lovely March 4th pictures, brought to you by Mr. Rupert Giles, labradoodle extraordinaire.

First he's saying "I love being out in the front yard sans leash, but where's all the snow?" Mr. G loves the snow.

Here he's thinking "Ahhh! get me off of all this dried, dead grass! Haven't you people ever heard of a rake?""

Dumb Dog, Why Are You Following Me?

The Relay for Life Team at my work is holding a cutest dog picture in which people submit their dog pictures and then vote on the cutest one to raise money.
And everyone at my work has turned doggie-crazy.
It is all they talk about, and I can't take it.
I am very aware that my children love Mr. Giles. I have a difficult time working up that much affection for him. Now I know my next statement will get me ostracized from my mother's side of the family, but to me Giles is just a dog.
He makes a very nice edition to our family. He's a very good dog, and he brings great joy to my kids, and heck even to me once in a while. I do not, however, feel like he's one of my kids.
That said, Mr. Giles has deemed me the alpha-dog in the house and follows me where ever I go. When I (and only I)throw his ball, he fetches, when I say sit, he sits. This only happens for me. Mr. H. and the kids could yell til they're horse and he just looks at them. If anyone else leaves the house, he'll try to escape. I could walk out and hold the door open and he would just sit there until I said "Well, come on." I can take him for a walk without his leash and he won't leave me. This isn't something I understand. I am not saying he's bad for anyone else, he's just extra good for me. If anyone has insight into this wacky dog behavior, let me know.
And I apologize for the doggie-blog.

Sneak Peek...

I finished making Girl's Halloween costume today, and if I do say so myself, it's awesome (Check out Mr. Hobbitfeet holding Giles so I could take the picture, Mr. G will NOT pose for pictures, something about cameras stealing your soul. For the world's only librarian dog, his thinking is a little unsophisticated).
Anyhow, there comes a time in all my craft projects, where Giles has eaten one of the necessary components at a critical point (see unsophisticated) and I have gone to three different stores to replace it, when I just want to give up. This phenomena occurred during this project with the rick rack that you can see on the collar and sleeves. It is then that I curse my desire to do things right (ie. complete with rick rack), and wish I could be the kind of mom that could just take my kids to Wal-mart and let them wander the costume aisle and pick their favorite from what is available. But then I finish the costume and get to her how awesome it is and it's totally worth it.
I must confess that this year, I did buy Boy's costume , for a very good reason. Last year, mid-October Boy decided he wanted to be a velvet ant for Halloween. So I worked my butt off until the day before the Halloween parade and came out with a freaking amazing velvet ant costume and everyone was like "Whatthehell!"
What do you want from me people? My weirdo son wanted to be a velvet ant!!!! Do you know what a velvet ant is??? Have you ever heard of one before??? NO! No! I'd wager you hadn't, until this post or possibly if you had seen Boy last Halloween! What kind of goof ball wants to be a velvet ant? The costume was great, but weird and kind of hard to do (see below)




The hat was the real work of art, made with plush material, velvet and wire, it had poking out mandibles (though it's hard to tell in the pictures).

Anyway this year he wanted to be a Bionicle. And in my searching on how to pull this off, discovered that they already had them. So I decided to avert the entire "what the heck is that" mentality that seems to come from people when I make a costume suited for my son's weirdness, as well as the perpetual sore back and neck I get when frustrated during crafting and shell out the same amount of cash that I would have spent on a homemade one anyhow and buy my son a costume. Does he care, well yes he does it arrived and although it says it's size 8-10 it's a little big and not the exact one he wanted to be, but it's crazy nice being done with Halloween costumes two weeks before it happens.

Facts About Me!

1. As the mother of a 22-days-away-from-three-year-old, quite-recently-potty-trained little girl, I feel that I incessantly talk about poop. I don't think a day goes by that the word poop doesn't come out of my mouth at least three or four times a day.


2. I am a snob. An imagination snob. Boy lives and breathes Bionicals and wants to give us whole histories of them. Histories he read in Bionical books and on their website, and I have no tolerance for it. When he tells me stories that he made up or that he dreamed, I will listen intently for hours, but the minute he carries one of those damn things out of his room talking about the histories of the moo-laka-moo* mask my eyes cloud over and I don't hear a word he says. Also when he shows me Bionicles that he made based on instructions in a book, I say things like "neat" or "great job," but when he shows me Bionicles that he made on his own, I say things like "that's awesome" or "that's really cool!"

*I made that name up, as I said, I don't listen to bionical talk.


3. No matter how much fun Boy has with him, and no matter that he is Boy's "Best Friend", I will always hate Captain Obnoxious! He came over for a few hours today, and ever time Mr. Hobbitfeet came near me I was rolling my eyes and shaking my head. C.O. was terrified of our mini-dog so we put up the baby gate to keep Giles out of Boy's room while still having the door open to monitor play and C.O. kept taunting him from behind the gate. Then when Giles gave up and came to the family room to lay down, C.O. called him and freaked out when he ran to the gate. I finally had to say, "if you don't plan on playing with the dog, leave him alone." It took all the power on earth to not call him a little jerk as he shrieked and bossed his way around my house. I hate him, and hate the fact that I hate him., especially since Boy loved having him over.


4. I am stupid enough to accidentally spray cold Windex onto a hot lightbulb, causing that lightbulb to explode and also causing one of the red hot glass shards to land on my chest and burn me enough to give a blister. I am also stupid enough to pop that blister.



5. I have given my TBMITW crown to my mom. Because even though financial setbacks have made us rely too much on her, she doesn't hold it against us and still knows that with me nothing can trump PURPLE RUSSIAN NESTING DOLLS!


Check them out, keeping the ones from Lithuania company (also that's Mr. H.'s Pensive Jesus from Lithuania)

First Full Day of Spring......

Yeah Right!

More pictures

I've been playing with my camera again. Mr. Hobbitfeet says it's my new toy and I think he hopes I'll get over it soon. Who knows if I will or not. Here is Boy Walking Mr. Giles:

and Girl playing dress up:

and finally a picture of Mr. Giles:

My new camera!

My mom bought me a digital camera for my birthday and I connived my way into getting it early. So here are some new pictures.

This is Mr. Giles.

Here he is with the kids!

And here is Boy's dojo after their belt test today. Boy is now a blue belt.

Meet Mr. Giles

Despite what I wrote in a previous post, we got a dog. He is a 4-month-old Labradoodle, although he is more oodle than Labra. One parent was a Labrador/toy poodle mix and the other was a toy poodle. Thankfully he doesn't look much like a poodle, or I wouldn't have got him. He is all black with white on his chest and chin, and the tips of his paws. I'd say he looks like someone took a shrinkray to a labrador. His name is Mr. Giles in the hopes that he will have the personality of a British librarian who will help us fight all manner of goblins and ghouls. For now he just stares at us and trembles.

Boy thinks he is the "BEST DOG EVER" though as I said he hasn't done anything yet and Boy only manages short pets before backing away in fear. Girl likes him when he's 5-10 feet away, in her sight, but not looking at her. Honestly though the dog is tiny, less than ten pounds and maybe all of a foot and a half on his hind legs, so I am not sure why they are afraid of him. Hopefully they will all relax sooner or later and everything will be normal.

I'll post a picture when I get it.

The Next Partridge Family

Once again my family sunk to new lows of geekdom by having another family karaoke night. This time we were at my mom’s farm and my mother, sisters, and nephew all participated in addition to Mr. Hobbitfeet, the kids and me. I think that the "Overall Entertainer of the Night" award goes to my nephew, Big D, in his 13-year-old boy rendition of Pieces of Me by Ashley Simpson. So far, Boy’s Christmas present has been a huge hit, well almost. My almost-stepfather hated the whole thing and hid in the garage until the karaoke machine was stashed away. I guess he just doesn’t appreciate a good song.

In other news, my family and I are going back and forth on whether or not we should get a dog. Both Mr. Hobbitfeet and I prefer cats, but thanks to his biological father, Boy is highly allergic to them. So we wanted a smallish dog. The nearby shelter had lab/beagle puppies but all of them are potentially adopted. The other dog we picked out, though one of the smaller ones there, is still a little large for the kids, and so they were pretty scared of her. For the moment, I think we’re passing on the dog, but who know what we’ll do in the future.