Nohe 5

Happy Birthday My Love

Happy Birthday my love.  I know I should have written this earlier today so that there would actually be a chance that you would see it on your birthday, but life got in the way.  Life is messy that way sometimes.  Just like the special lunch we were supposed to have to celebrate this afternoon.  Instead, Rachel pouted, Teddy refused to eat and Jack rubbed pizza on my pants.  It was insane and felt more like an endurance test than a birthday party.  Yet, at the end, after the kids were strapped back in the car, you gave me one of your great, full of love, arms wrapped all the way around hugs, and I knew exactly why I married you.

There is no one that I would rather face life's messiness with than you.  We may drive each other nuts some times and goodness knows the kids are driving us both completely bananas and don't even get me started about your jobs, but through it all you show me why I am married to the best guy on the planet.  Your principled, steadfast manner make me proud.  Your compassion for others gives me hope.  The love you shower on your children brings me unmeasured joy.  The love you give to me makes my heart burst at the seams.  You are a wonderful man, and on this day of your birth, I celebrate all the wonderful things that make you you.

Happy Birthday my love.

Good Gravy! What Did I Feed Him?!?!

I know that this sort of thing shouldn't be discussed in polite society.  Nonetheless, this is my blog, not polite society.

Jack had a diaper that smelled so bad that I had to take it outside.  Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Stop at the Diaper Genie, Do Not Collect $200.  It was nasty.

I take back everything that I said about Mother's Day.  After that diaper this afternoon, I deserve to sleep in, have breakfast in bed, go to brunch, followed by a day at a spa.  Yes, it was that bad.

Mother's Day: More Trouble Than It's Worth?

This Sunday is Mother's Day and, as usual, my husband has been asking me what I want to do to celebrate.  Of course this is fair, since I have been asking him what he wants to do for his birthday which is this week.  We both have come up with the same answer, "I dunno."

I feel that there is this tremendous pressure to come up with something good.  Not so much so that we can enjoy it, but rather so that we will have something to tell people when they ask what we did.  I felt the same pressure on my 30th birthday.  In the end, I didn't do anything because I felt whatever I did just wasn't going to live up to what one should do on that momentous occasion.

So right now I am sort of stuck.  There is part of me that would like to do something fun.  But then there is the other part of me that would rather save our money for a good vacation soon.  Plus, the planning, prep work and execution of doing anything with 4 young children is exhausting.  Oh heck, just getting them in and out of the car is exhausting.

It has been suggested that I should just go out and do something on my own, but I really feel guilty leaving my kids with someone else...even my husband.  I know how much work it is and I hate pawning them off on someone else.  Even when we have gotten a babysitter for them, I try to have at least one if not two of them in bed asleep before we leave.  I know I need to find a way to get over this, but it gnaws at me every time I leave them.

So, even though Marty has given me his requests for what to do to celebrate his birthday, I am still at a loss for Mother's Day.  I guess what I want for Mother's Day is to not have to think of something to do.

He Will Be in Time Out Forever

I have been doing all that I can to keep our food budget under control.  I'm like some sort of crazy person at the grocery store checking what costs more per ounce, what's on special, buying in bulk, ect.

Well, today I was clipping coupons when Jack woke and wanted lunch.  I had already cut up two hot dogs for him in case he needed to eat them in the car on the way to pick up his sister.  He immediately took the container and emptied it on the floor.  Even shaking it for effect.  I went blind with rage.

Here I was clipping coupons and planning our 47th chicken meal in a row to save money on food and he is just throwing food away.  Well he is in time out until I feel like I can let him out and not kill him.  I am also hard pressed to make another lunch for him, so that he can throw that on the floor too.

Oh that boy is driving me crazy, crazy, crazy.

Boys Grow Up, Dogs Grow Old

Last night our dog died.

Milhous, you were a good dog.  I remember the fist time I met you.  It was night and I could only make out your profile in the lit doorway.  You were a ball of energy with a curly tail.  I am pretty sure that you jumped on me, because you did that to just about everyone back then.

You were with Marty before me.  I often told people that the dog came with the marriage.  However, on nights when I was home alone, I felt a little more comfortable knowing there was a big dog in the house.  Even though, if an intruder ever did get in the house, all you would is lick his face and try to play with him.

Whenever people asked us what kind of dog you were, we just replied. "The brown kind."  You were a pound puppy through and through and we will miss you.

Choose Your Words Carefully

This morning I got a call from Marty.  He was telling be all about how Rachel was bemoaning the fact that her class was going to get to go on a field trip to the zoo and then to CiCi's for pizza, but that she wasn't allowed to go.  I could not for the life of me figure out what she was talking about.  I checked the calendar and there was no listing for a field trip anywhere.

Then I said to Marty, "Well there is a CiCi's pizza night listed on the calendar, but I told Rachel that we couldn't go because it is always a zoo."  I must say right here that my husband was much quicker than I was on this one, because immediately the light bulb went off over his head.

Apparently, when I said the phrase "because it is a zoo," Rachel thought there was a literal zoo involved.  Never mind the fact that I say that "our house is like living in a zoo" to the kids all the time.  Rachel must often be confused at the zoo, because, despite what I say, it is not at all like our house.  In fact, it is much more fun, what with all the animals, ice cream and fun.

So now I have been tasked with explaining to Rachel, that although we will not be taking her to Cici's pizza night, she is not missing out on the zoo.  Next time, I will choose my words more carefully.

While Getting Ready For Bed

Me: Rachel you are just getting too big.

Rachel: I know.  I'm almost 10.

Me: What happened to 8 and 9?

Rachel:  Well, I mean I only have two more numbers and then I will be 10.

Me: I don't want you to grow up so fast.

Rachel:  I know.  I know.  You are going to cry, "Where are my babies?  Where are my babies?  Who are these big kids?"

Me:  Yes.  I want you all to stay little for me.

Rachel:  But if we don't grow up, we can't make you a Grandma.

That's my girl.  Always looking to the next step.