L.I.C.E is a four letter word

I mean....literally....and figuratively, too.  At least it is in our house.



It's naughty....very, VERY naughty.  



Why?...because when you say it mommy get's all scared and anxious and starts hyperventilating.  And her head starts itching.....really bad.



At least that is what happened the day we found a little creepy, crawly, egg laying nasty in G-McBabe's hair about 18 months ago (just a few weeks after Mr. Golden Locks was born).

(see here)

 But let me tell you, things haven't changed a whole lot.



A few weeks after the start of school, we got the customary "lice" letter home one day.



You know, the "it's that time of year again when we typically see an increase in head lice" letter?



I hate that letter.



But....not more than I hate the "Nits (lice eggs) and/or lice have been found on a couple of students in the 3rd grade" letter.



That letter came home today.



For a few seconds I thought about falling apart.  (Breath, breath, breath).



Instead I just did a little scream inside......

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!



Why now?  I'm not medicated (at least not for a few more days).



How do you expect a "sister" to deal with something like this unmedicated, y'all?



SO....NOT....COOL!"

I looked at the paper....I looked at G-McBabe.....and then I said,



"You do realize we are going to have to do a head check today, right?



"Yeah.....(sigh)....I know."



Poor kid....he knows his mama all too well.  Let's face it....she can be a little psycho.



We FINALLY got to it tonight just before bed....



Luckily....so far, so good (all heads checked, all heads cleared).....and I didn't even panic, at least not more than once.....or twice.  :)



We ended the day with the "do not share hats or coats or scarfs talk"....the "stuff your coat inside your backpack talk" (what are they thinking making kids share cubbies?)...the "I know you love your friends but just don't get too close to them" talk.



Oh....and I prayed.....HARD!



I think we have it all covered.



Did I miss anything?





Just one easy click!

Eclectic fashion in our home of XY's

We used to live in the land of outfits.

Drawers and drawers of matching items.  It was blissful.

Well, as you can imagine with four boys...those kind of luxuries were short lived.

Shirts are stained, ripped, distroyed...eventually earning them a home in the nearest landfill, leaving their matching counterpart sad and alone...but still very functional. 

Pants generally sprout holes rather quickly, within a matter of DAYS sometimes, and are repaired accordingly until there comes a time when they can no longer be recognized as pants.  Hello shorts.  But after time, even the shorts start to sprout holes in the most unusual of places, looking a bit like Swiss cheese (does this happen to you?), and they end up joining their long lost friends in the landfill.

Add to the eclecticism, the boxes and boxes of clothes people give to us (and believe me...we get A LOT!)  You know...The survivors from THEIR children's wardrobes...some most of which have already parted with THEIR matching counterparts as well.

The pile of eclectic fashion grows.

My point...

We have the makings of some VERY exciting outfits under our roof.  VERY exciting!

Here are some of my favorites!

 Our 4 year old

 (he's going to be SO excited when winter finally comes and we actually get snow...if we get snow)

 and

Our 5 year old

 (Sarcasm emphasized in italics)

Between the thumping of the moon boots and the clicking of the cowboy boots, these two turn a lot of heads.  Once the heads are turned the comments fly.  It's AMAZING!

My reply, "Well...at least they get themselves dressed in the morning."

I mean, really....that's what matters to me.

I wonder if I would feel differently if they were girls.  I'd like to think I would....you know, that I would want my girls to be cutesy and pretty and put together all of the time....but in reality, I'm not so sure. 

I guess it really doesn't matter...since I they aren't and I don't.

By the way, a sweet sweet friend of mine recently dropped off another box of clothes.  I'm currently somewhere in the process of sorting and washing.

Just think....A whole new world of interesting. 

Can't wait to see what they will come up with next!

P.S.  I just wanted to emphasize that we are always VERY grateful for the offerings we receive.  We have a hard enough time feeding a house of boys, let alone clothing them. :)  We have truly been blessed by others generosity.

"Testosterone Overload kills brain cells"

I decided, just now, to Google the name of my blog, Testosterone Overload, and see what it came up with.

Of course a link to my blog did, but just a few hits down I saw this one.

Testosterone Overload Kills Brain Cells - Early Retirement ...

It made me laugh....really hard.

As the only female in a home with a definite overload of testosterone I can totally identify with this statement.

Slaughtered brain cells....check.

Looking for early retirement....check.




ha ha ha ha ha....love it.

The day from "H-E-double-hockey-sticks"

Today was not a very good day.  Not a very good day at all.

We had LOTS of errands to run (back to school shopping included) which made for a very long...LONG...day.

4 kids....4 very hyper kids....4 very grabby kids....4 very dawdler-ific kids (I really shouldn't add the baby into all of this...he is actually pretty angelic for the most part)...leads to one very tired, cranky mama (and I even took a nap halfway through the ordeal).

Honestly...

Now that the kids are in bed and I am looking back on the day, however, I have found a little humor in it...just a little...when I was reminded of this scene from Dumb and Dumber.



I kid you not...this scene is near IDENTICAL to our car ride home after our afternoon set of errands.  Myself playing the "bad guy" (I totally react like him too) and my two oldest playing Lloyd and Harry.  Just replace the second set of hitchhikers with my two youngest children and the "bad guys" antacids with chocolate/ice cream my husband is right now...as I type...on assignment to retrieve from the store and you've got the complete picture.

What a day....

It makes me a little unsure about my decision to start weening myself off my anti-depressants tomorrow. (read about it at Methodical Musings of an Unbalanced Woman)

You see...I'm an angry depressed person...not much weeping (or any for that matter)...just a lot of anger and even more RAGE.  Ugh.

I'm not gonna lie...I was a little scared before today...now I'm even more so.

Pray for me (and my poor family), please.   We're gonna need it.

Hiya...take that Sir Laughs A Lot....who's laughing now?

So I have a certain 5 year old (Little Red) that gets himself into a lot of trouble...A LOT OF TROUBLE...because he is so set on making other people laugh.

His excuse for everything..."well, but ________ was laughing."  As if that should excuse his behavior.

I have tried many approaches to cure this kind of thinking (you know, that it's okay to do anything as long as someone finds it funny)  I've tried:

The "just because it's funny doesn't mean it's right." approach.

The "I don't give a crap if he was laughing" approach.

The "you think that's funny...give me 50 burpies" approach.

The "oh, you still think it's funny?  give me 50 MORE burpies" approach.

and sometimes The "go to your room until your dad get's home...I don't want to see your face for a very long time" approach (which I used the other day when he scissored off some of Golden Locks's (16 month old) beautiful curls).

But...this one takes the cake.  Not only was it really effective..but it made ME laugh.  In fact, I'm still laughing.

Pure mommy genius.

A few weeks back we were having a particularly heinous day....the kids were giggley and obnoxious and I was a bit sleep deprived and not finding much humor in their antics.

Little Red was in the bathroom and needed me to come wipe him.  I walk into the bathroom not only to find G-McBabe (our eldest) in the bathroom with Little Red (a big no no in our house), but the ENTIRE new roll of toilet paper unrolled and in a heap on the floor.

I glared at Little Red with a blazing flame of fury in my eye...

"What?...What?....he says...and then "Well [G-McBabe] was laughing."

He and G-McBabe exchange their little smart "A" glances...you know, the ones kids use when they are being completely disrespectful and are really trying to tick you off?, and began to giggle.

Cleansing breath...cleansing breath...I told myself (I just saw the Hulk this week for the first time and feel like I may have found my kindred spirit... he he he)...and at long last I calmed.

The two boys were still giggling...which annoyed me to all get out...but I calmly replied.  "So...it's okay to do anything just because you think it's funny, huh?"

Giggle, giggle..."Yeah," they replied...giggle, giggle....along with more shifty glances and a bit of hand over mouth "I promise I'm trying to keep myself from laughing but cant quite control myself" gestures.

"Oh, okay," I said.

"So....G-McBabe...do you think it would be funny if I were to take Little Red's head and dip it into this toilet of poopy water (and believe you-me, Little Red had the runs and it was pretty poopy)?"

Again, more giggles and even a few loud bursts of uncontrolled laughter from both of them (probably because of the mention of "poop" and "toilet"...boys, seriously?), and finally G-McBabe answers, "Um....Yeah..." with a huge grin.

"Oh, Okay, .......well then," I say.

I think Little Red could sense something in mommy's mood had changed...he stopped laughing.

I quietly rolled back up the toilet paper and calmly wiped his bottom.  I, ever so gently, helped him off the toilet and waited for him to pull up his pants.  Meanwhile, G-McBabe is still giggling in the back ground (what, did they have too much sugar that day...i mean, REALLY?)

Little Red finishes and, before he could even blink twice, I snatched him around the waist, tipped him upside down and lowered his head within mere inches of the water line...poop and all.

The giggling and laughter turned into pandemonium....

I hear, "MMMMOOOOMMMMM!  MMMMOOOOOMMMM!  AHHH AHHH AHHHH AHHHH!  HELP!  HELP!  HELP!  from Little Red....screaming....crying....the works.......PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN ......PUT ME DOWN!!!!!

and simultaneously from G-McBabe, "MMMMOOOOMMMM!  MMMMOOOOOMMMMMM!  IT'S NOT FUNNY!  IT'S NOT FUNNY!  MMMMOOOOMMMMM!  IT'S NOT FUNNY IT'S NOT FUNNY IT'S NOT FUNNY IT'S NOT FUNNY!!!!!!PUT HIM DOWN...IT'S NOT FUNNY...IT'S NOT FUNNY....ETC."

After a few seconds (but what I'm sure seemed like HOURS to both of them), I calmly put Little Red's feet back on the floor and reply, "Oh...that wasn't funny to you?"

(pant pant pant)  "No," they replied.

"Oh...cuz I thought it was funny,"  I said smiling.

They both stared at me like I was crazy.

I let that thought sink in while I washed my hands.

"So...maybe it's NOT okay to do things just because we think it's funny, right?"

"Yeah"...they mumbled as I walked out the door.

And that was that.

I will say that the lesson learned was quite effective for a few days.  Any time I had problems, I would kindly remind them of the toilet incident and they would shape up rather quickly.

I had forgotten about it for a time....shame on me....it's good ammo.  One that I will be using rather often, I am quite sure.

Hey, a mama's gotta do what she's gotta do to teach her children the lessons of life.

Lack of Balance, Salt and Pepper, Atheism, and Exercise

I've been out of sorts all morning.  Not only did I stay up WAY past my bedtime, e-mailing a new atheist and depressed acquaintance (find a post on MMUB about it here and his blog here), but realized this morning I had forgotten to take any of my medications/vitamins yesterday.  Not so good when you are taking an anti-depressant. 

When I finally dragged myself out of bed I was feeling a little groggy, a little nauseous, an a whole lotta unbalanced-ness (as if anything is new, I mean the name of my other blog is Methodical Musings of an Unbalanced Woman ha ha...just kidding), meaning I was dizzy.  Right off the bat I had a bum to wipe, a baby upset about being trapped in his "jail" (aka crib), 4 hungry boys and a really messy house.  Such a wonderful way to start off a Monday.

I scrambled to get ready to head out to our local church, where I freely give of my semi-fine tuned Jillian Micheals-like services twice a week (aka teach aerobics--boot camp, mean lady style).  I love it.  It's a fun outlet.  Unfortunately it's not the same as teaching in a gym...I don't get paid (which I am totally okay with) and my kids have to go with me (which I'm only semi-okay with).

It was while we were there, at our church, that the fiasco of the morning occurred.  It was one of my previously mentioned little bundles of energy (the 3, almost 4 year old) that was in the middle of it.

I'm working up a good sweat, kickin' some lady butt (including my own) when #2 comes to me with yet another complaint/question/thought (he's always interrupting).  I heard something about Mini Rob (3 year old), salt and pepper, and glass.  What did I do...ignored him.  "Please go away until I am done."

We're finally done....cooled down...ready to leave when #2 saunters back and requests my attention.  "Okay, Little Red...what do you need?"

"[Mini Rob] and ***** (neighbor boy whom we love and whom M.R. LOVES to get into mischief with) got into the salt and pepper shakers in the kitchen and dumped them out and broke some glass."

"HE WHAT?"

Yeah...they dumped out somewhere around 20 glass salt and pepper shakers and then decided to throw and shatter them all over the church's kitchen floor.  Lovely...just lovely!  At least Mini Rob was wearing shoes, ***** wasn't.  And he managed to escape with only one cut.  Don't ask me how.  Glass was EVERYWHERE!!!!!

*****'s mom and I (with the help of another lovely friend) finally got it cleaned up, amidst the sneezing, while another mommy held my shoeless, screaming one year old.

What a nightmare!

Now it's nap time.  I'm so happy I could cry....but I think I will just sleep instead.

My very existence in one word..."poop"

I'm frustrated.  I grab the phone and go outside.  Mail...I'll check the mail.  That's what I'll do.  Just get me out of here.

When I'm done I sit on the front lawn and call Rob at work.

"How are you?"  he says.

"Frustrated."

"Why?"

"I have wiped bums over 40 times today and  ___________ (we will call him child XYZ) has pooped in his pants three times in the last 45 minutes.  I swear, I'm gonna scream." 

"So what are you gonna do?"

"I told him he had to put on a pull up and would have to pay me for every one of them he poops in.  And...HE'S UPSET with me because I wont let him go outside and jump on the trampoline (do you blame me?...visions of poop...eveRYwhere)."

Just then another child comes out and says, "Mom...I have to go poop."

Rob starts laughing. CASE. IN. POINT!

Can we say probiotics....HELLO! (which I have already administered)

If only that was that.

While I am sitting here typing child XYZ comes in from playing outside and says, "Mom, were you REALLY serious about me having to pay you for the pull-ups?"

"DID YOU POOP IN YOUR PANTS AGAIN!?!?"

"Yes." 

ARRRRGGGGGGGG!!!!

I put him on a potty time out.  "Just stay there for a while,"  I said.

Seriously.

I'm leaving for an undisclosed amount of time as soon as Rob gets home.

When it hits the fan...it hits the fan

I knew I was supposed to be doing something...I just couldn't remember what.

I was on the phone with my sister when Husband calls...and calls...and calls. ("Maybe I should answer that.")

It finally dawns on me...I was supposed to run some cash out to him at work.

Crap.

I pick up the phone, "I'm coming."......."Do you remember what else I was going to do while I was out?"

He rattles off my to do list:

*trip to drug store ("list is on the counter"),

*trip to red and white bullseye place for Rx's,

*trip to neighboring city to drop off a bike at bike shop (30 min drive BOTH WAYS)!

I look at the clock...It's 11:30AM.

Double crap...

"I'm so not going to make it home before nap time."

Sigh...

It's a mad rush to get ready to leave.

I start preparing lunch on the go (more economical, you know)...yell for Little Red and Mini Rob to "go potty and get shoes on"... Mr. Golden Locks is still in his jammies...heck, I'm still in my jammies...gotta get the bike in the car...don't forget the coupons... 

I'm feeling a little frantic at this point.  So much to do.

(Thank goodness for therapy!)

I try calming myself using some anxiety relieving techniques (inhale slowly 1,2,3,4...exhale slowly 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8...inhale slowly 1,2,3,4...exhale slowly 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8...you get the idea).

"Mom!," I hear from the other room.

I continue to peel carrots while going over the checklist again in my head.

"MOM!" 

Yeah...still peeling carrots...lost in my own thoughts.

Finally,  "MOM!  MOM!  MOM! MOM!"

"WHAT?!?!?," I yell.

"[MR. GOLDEN LOCKS] THREW YOUR KEYS IN THE TOILET."

(goodbye new found calm feeling)



Carrots forgotten I RUN (literally) to the bathroom.

My worst fears are confirmed....my keys are in the toilet...so is Mini Rob's urine...and two or more weeks worth of bacteria (yeah, I've been meaning to get to that.)   UGH!

(Have I mentioned I'm a semi recovered OCD-ish germ-a-phoebe.)

Not good...not good at all.

I order the kids out...and ask Little Red to assist Mr. Golden Locks in the detoxification process (hand sanitizer).

I grab the keys out of the toilet and throw them in the bathroom sink.  I begin the first of several wash cycles (with anti-bacterial soap, of course) while alternating between panic and self-control in my head ("sick, disgusting, I will never be able to touch them again"... "get a hold of yourself, calm down, you will clean them well, you will move on, and you will be okay (positive self reinforcement...ya know)).

While in this back and forth debate with myself (between the OCD and the sane Melanie) I forget what I am doing (other than white knuckle scrubbing these keys)...there are soap suds everywhere.

Little Red comes back into the bathroom, takes a look and says "Mom...your wasting water."

I swear I could have shot lasers out of my eyes just then.  Instead I had to settle for "the evil eye" and "the nostril flare."

"What?", he says casually.

AAARRRGGGHHH....

Once I finally got control of myself (and the sane Melanie won out), I did pretty good.

I cut off a fabric key chain that was soaked in toilet water (who needs it anyways), bathed them in Clorox Clean-up (literally), and washed them again (all that you ask?  Yeah...and that's the SANE Melanie)

Deep breath...Done!

Until...

Husband calls..."Are you coming?"

Sigh....

Forget economical...we're going to McDonald's!

UPDATE:  I also ended up skipping the trip to the bike shop after I took the wrong freeway exit.  A woman can only take so much in one day.

Picking noses and picking battles...

Motherhood is often about picking noses and picking battles.

The kids pick their noses (and eat it) and I pick the battles.

Outdoor play time...for my boys...is a MUST.  I will fight it to the death (figuratively, of course).

It is my experience that little monkeys quickly become giant 40ft prehistoric apes that climb up the Empire States Building (or my walls)  when they have been confined to the indoors for an extended period of time.

G-McBabe and I have often skirmished over his dislike of the outdoors and anything associated with it.

He would rather sit inside and read a book (as soon as his video/computer game time is up, of course).

Now, I'm all for reading.  I highly encourage reading.  With G-McBabe, I am in now way worried about his literary well being.

I am, however, worried about his lack of movement and vitamin D absorption.

Some days the battle rages on for what seams like eternity...and some days it's over without incident.

We wave our white flags and form a treaty of sorts.

A few minutes later I look out the window and see this...

Fine by me.

At least he had to walk to get out there.

A calm settles over the household.

Peace reins again.

One more reason to train for a marathon...

I was at Costco today and saw a sign in the back window of someone's car that read...

Marathon Mama

26.2 miles of peace and quiet

So that's it.

Just one more reason to train for a marathon!

What is it about my aura that says "twins"?

I met a woman at the park yesterday while there with 3 of my boys.

She was there with her adorable, two year old, twin girls.

As the kids were playing we got talking about our children (as most women do) at it came out that I have 4...not 3 boys. It took her a few minutes to recover from her shock. Truly.

I told her about Rob's "prophetic" prediction...that we would have 4 boys and one girl. She seemed a bit stunned by that too but the conversation continued. Laughing I told her of Rob's amendment to his previous prediction....that, yes, we would have four boys but he now thought we would have one "girl pregnancy" but that there would be two babies ("Wouldn't that be so cute," Rob says the day he amended early prediction (which just happened to be THE DAY OF MY ULTRASOUND WITH KIAN...like can we not get through one pregnancy before we start planning the next)).

Anyway... The look on this ladies face was priceless. She gasped, "Oh my gosh....I was just going to say that." She said she "knew it" just as soon as I told her that "back when we were dating my husband said we would have four boys and one girl." She thought "No, she is going to have twin girls."

Over and over she kept saying, "I was just going to say that."

All I could do was laugh. I have lost exact count but she is now the 5th or 6th random, as in never have met before in my life, person to predict my next pregnancy is going to be twin girls. Most of them just stop me in the store and tell me so...without ever hearing Rob's own "prophetic" prediction.

It's kind of....interesting (for lack of a better word).

What is it about my aura that says "twins"?

I told Rob about it last night. He had a good laugh. He joked about how disappointed I will be if/and or when I do get pregnant next time and it is not twins.

The truth is....I probably will be. Even though the thought of having any more kids right now, let alone twins, sends me into hysterics.

As part of the "joke" I already have names picked out for my twin girls (although Rob doesn't like one of them). Not that I want twins, necessarily. I would probably cry....HARD. I have just come to terms with it in a way. Like it's inevitable.

I never think about my next pregnancy without thinking about "them"...the two of them.

How bizarre is that? Am I crazy? (okay...don't answer that)

Four boys and twin girls....CAN YOU IMAGINE? Only time will tell....and I guess if you are not reading my blog in the next 3-5 years (and I pray that it is at least that) you may never know how it turns out. :)

Scary....but then again.....

Rare moments of the destructive and naughty

Tenderness

Treasuring a rare, quiet and tender moment of motherhood

Rare indeed. Most of our "moments" are filled with purposefully destructive and naughty behavior (at least where a certain 3 year old is involved). As evidenced:

Poor thing didn't even see it coming.

I refrained from yelling.

Kudos.

Mother's Day Funny!

Sitting at the dinner table only a few moments ago G-McBabe asked:

"Mom...is Dad your slave today?" (He he) M

e (Rob and I giggling): "No...he's my helper."

G-McBabe (looking perplexed): "Oh."

I'm sure in his very observant, very magnificent brain he is thinking they look to be one and the same. Awesome! Awesome!

A growth discovered....in my abdomen!

About 15 weeks ago my primary care physician discovered a somewhat parasitic growth in my abdomen. It was small...but growing rapidly.

She reassured me that these types of growths are rarely fatal and that everything would be fine but suggested I see a parasitic growth specialist to get another opinion.

I did just that.

The appointment went well. A lot of questions were answered and fears abated.

There are no immediate plans for removal but removal and/or passing of the growth is inevitable and should take place in the next 19-20 weeks.

It will be rather painful and will take a bit of recovery but I am confident I will bounce back from it in no time.


How do I know?


Because it has been that way every other time...


I have had a baby!


SURPRISE!


(By the way...we had our BIG ultrasound today...everything (that they could see) looks good. Wanna know the sex? TOO BAD! You only get one secret at a time. Yeah....I am that mean!)

UPDATE:  It's boy #4!!!!!