Friday, February 27, 2015

Terrorists Pooping

Pooping is a major thing in our house right now.
Maybe it's because I have 2 toddlers or maybe my kids are just gross (I'm going with gross - I know them)


As usual Boy Terrorist Takes the cake:
You already know that he grunts like a constipated gorilla and and likes people to sit and watch/talk to him while he does his business (if not refer to Turds, Heists & Juice).  Hes added a few new things to his repertoire.
Boy Terrorist

Lately, he can't just go crap like any other person - he has to first find one of us (his parents) in order to let us know he needs to poop (while bouncing around trying to hold in the turd that he waited too long to announce in the first place).  After he has announced his predicament he then requires an OK from one of us to go to the bathroom.  This can be a dicey situation if you're not actually paying attention to him.
 I'm veering off subject here but for the life of me I have no clue why my child needs permission to shit.  He doesn't need permission to do things that he shouldn't (like sneaking out of the back door when we're not looking, and climbing on top of the fridge to eat all of the Halloween candy)  I guess his butt-hole has a conscience...

Boy terrorist's  poop approval request isn't the most disturbing of his poop practices though.
See, we still wipe his butt for him (the skid marks let us know that he wasn't ready to tackle that task alone yet) and without fail after EVERY SINGLE butt wipe he asks us "What did you pull out of my butt?"

Um, what?!?!? What did I pull out of WHERE?!?!?
No one's EVER pulled anything out of his butt.  I have no idea why he asks that - I think it's just to fuck with us....


Not to be out done, Tiny Terrorist has her own poop issues, although hers are less freaking creepy than her weirdo brother's.

Like most kids (I think) she has to have privacy to poop her pants (diaper).  What's funny is that if you call her name or go looking for her while she's trying to poop she freaks out and starts screaming at you to leave her alone.  Which of course has the exact opposite effect as evidenced by the video below.  We can't help but mess with her...we're dicks.

video

Last but certainly not least and almost as creepy, Tiny Terrorist also has her own poop question:

Mid-poop clean up she leans to the side so she can get a good look at your face and asks "You wike it?"...Every. Single. Time.  I don't know if she's actually curious to know if I like wiping her ass of if she's mocking me.

I think she's mocking me...






Friday, February 20, 2015

I'm sick and my kids are not fun....AT ALL

I usually share the funny stuff here and hope to make everyone laugh, the last two weeks haven't been all that funny.  I think it's because I've been sick.  Not sick enough to actually get my ass to the doctor or need sympathy but enough to make life miserable for all of us.

Anyway, I was reading a fellow mom's blog about how she felt overwhelmed and and some ways felt like she had failed (she is a stay at home mom).  I didn't enjoy the fact that someone else was having a shitty time, but it was nice to know I'm not the only one who feels like life is imploding sometimes.

Generally, I don't write this crap because even though I don't always feel "Lucky"  I know that I am.  I have  friends and family that have struggled to have children and would give anything to have the three healthy children that I have.  Don't get me wrong..I know exactly how blessed I am, but some days I would still like a vacation from my "Blessings"

I figured I'd share my comment for anyone that's been there before. 
Or for any of you that have teen daughters...go ahead and use it as birth control - or call me I'll let you borrow my kids.  I'll give them sugar and hand them over without naps.

So, here it is:

I'm on the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of work, but I feel exactly the same.  I work full time as a project engineer and have 3 kiddos (That I never really planned on having - if we're being honest)  My oldest is 12 (she was supposed to be my 1st and only)  #2 is a three year old boy  and #3 is a two year old diva baby.  (Daddy is awesome and has endless patience- thank god because he picks up the slack that I leave laying around.) 

Recently the whole routine of coming home from work, picking up 2 screaming toddlers, trying to cook dinner (with 2 screaming toddlers) and trying to get dishes and homework done has just been overwhelming.  
I want to scream at the kids to leave me alone for 2 damn minutes and I want to scream at my husband and remind him that those 2 kids were his idea (therefore I should go on vacation and he should raise them until they're normal at which time I'll come back and take all of the credit for raising 3 well adjusted children). Some days all I want is to actually run away and take that vacation alone and not have to wipe anyone's nose or ass or plead with anyone to eat their vegetables. 

 I just want one night without a tantrum and the idea of reading bedtime stories makes my eye twitch. 

By 10PM everyone is down for the night and replay all of the shitty things I said or the times I lost my patience or the moments I wished I wasn't a mother and this wasn't my life and I feel like a complete failure for  not "treasuring these moments".  


For a second I actually think about waking my babies just to hug them and tell them I love them.  I make a mental promise to do it better the next day and not scream or shoo them away, but the next day is a shit show just like the day before and the day before. I feel like I'm drowning in tantrums, dinners, homework and shitty diapers.

This hasn't always been the case and I'm trudging through hoping it's just the toddler phase that's making this all so damn hard (I actually enjoyed having two babies, but the toddlers are terrible).  I'm trying to learn to let go and enjoy the kids and not worry about the mess or the little things.  I try daily to remember that they are still just babies and find the fun in interacting with them instead of being annoyed at the shit that doesn't go as planned. 

I feel like I'm in over my head with work and a pre-teen and two babies.  But work is my vacation - it's a place where people can wait and I don't have to be at everyone's beck and call.  It's a place where all my shit is in order, I know what I'm doing and I'm in control.

Sometimes, I feel like total crap for working and missing "their formative years" and actually enjoying it, but I know I'm not cut out to be a stay at home mom.  I guess what I'm saying is thanks for letting me know it's shitty on both sides of the fence.


So there you have it.....
I have figured out the solution though - I need my mom.
If she lived here I could totally leave them with her for the night and have a mini vacation with my husband.

For all of you out there that know my mom let her know.  Shoot her an email, stop by and offer to pack her stuff, offer to rent her house.  Let her know how much better my quality of life would be if she's just move across the country and into my basement.


Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Just Call Me Sprinkles-McFlurry

Wednesdays usually kinda suck.  Tonight it sucked extra.

Wednesday is gymnastics night for Big Red and Boy Terrorist.
This means that for one hour we're free from 2 kids (Tiny terrorist makes up for the other's absence - don't worry).
Gymnastics starts at 5PM which means its a mad rush from work to pick up all of the kids and deliver them to the gym.  (Derek picks up Kait ad I pick up the terrorists)
This also means there is no time to make dinner and we are stuck with 2 unreasonable little assholes by 6:30.

That's a typical Wednesday.
 Tonight sucked extra.

On the drive home the tiny terrorists bitched and moaned because the in-flight movie was too quiet, because the sun wasn't out, because the headphones were too big, because the headphones were to small, because the air smelt like cow poop, because one was looking at the other and because one of them had ugly eyes.

IT'S A 15 MINUTE DRIVE!!!!

When I got home I realized I had forgotten to put the roast in the crock pot this morning so we were shit out of luck for dinner. 

With little resolve and even less patience I let the kids pick what they wanted for dinner....and for once they agreed!
Ramen noodles.
(Don't judge me.  Besides, who am I to judge - I lock myself in the bathroom and eat old Halloween candy on the regular)

I stick the Ramen in the microwave and almost immediately they decide they want cereal.
I take a deep breath and decide I don't have it in me to fight this battle and start pouring the cereal.  On the plus side they're getting milk and grain.  (That's calcium and a vegetable in my book....)

As soon as the ramen is done I put it aside for Big Red (she likes that shit).
....And the terrorists start screaming for ramen now.  Clearly the cereal has turned horrible and inedible and 'm trying to poison them with it.

Begin full blown melt down mode.  Boy terrorist is flopping on the floor and tiny terrorist dumps out her ENTIRE bowl of cereal on the counter.  (Because what else do you do when you don't want your dinner)
It was like this....x2

It's at this point that I have visions of orphanages and running away to adult living communities in Arizona. Instead summon all of my strength to not go bat shit crazy and send everyone to put their nose on the wall. Screams of agony ensue for 3 minutes.

Everyone is released to finish their cereal dinner (Tiny gets a new bowl)
By this point I've called dibs on picking up Big Read from gymnastics (She doesn't get out til 8PM) Just so I can get the fuck away from the shit show happening in my kitchen.

Somewhere between me looking for my keys and sprinting for the door Daddy caved to the terrorists demands of tortillas.  He broke the cardinal tortilla rule though...HE TORE IT IN HALF!!! (Bad fucking idea - 1/2 tortillas really piss off terrorists.)

I left in the midst of another full blown toddler tortilla tantrum.
Crying, screaming, floor flopping, tortilla tossing.  I didn't even look back....

Thank God for my husband - he wasn't even angry that I left him without a second glance. 


I would have stabbed him with a fork if he tried to leave me like that.

I don't like toddlers. 

Who ever convinced me to have 2 babies 15 months apart should be kicked in the nuts....
I'm not naming names
 I know one day I'll probably miss this, but tonight I don't want to be mom.
I'm going to change my name and hide and I'm not coming out until they guess it correctly.

I'm pretty sure they'll never guess Sprinkles McFlurry...

 If you need me I'll be in my garage drinking a beer, chain smoking and reevaluating my life choices.
(and also thanking my lucky stars for the amazing man that wrangled our kids all alone tonight)

He really deserves a medal or a halo or something.



Wednesday, February 4, 2015

His Penis Was Angry.....

I can add "Angry Pee'er" to the list of shit I never expected to deal with...

I picked up the boy terrorist at daycare yesterday only to find out that he's an angry pee'er (oh he can also use the word "hell" in context also)

Apparently, Boy Terrorist had TWO accidents at school yesterday...
After each accident they changed him into his "back-up clothes".
 I only sent 2 outfits (and I thought that was overkill).  After accident #2 their only option was to put BT into a pull up and some borrowed daycare pants.

This did not go over well with the boy.  After they got his wet clothes off and came at him with a pull-up.  He yelled "What the hell are you doing" and proceed to pee on his babysitter. 
Not on the floor mind you.  Directly on the poor woman.

I didn't want to believe my son just peed all over a person so I decided to ask him what the deal was.  Here is our conversation:

Me: Jax, why did you have so many accidents?
Jax: I had to pee a lot
Me: What didn't you go to the bathroom
Jax: I was doing things  (ah well OK then...I remember that the next time I'm busy at work)
Me: So why did you pee on Mrs. Babysitter
Jax:  I didn't
Me:  Yes you did.  DO NOT lie to me - she told me you peed on her.
Jax: No, I didn't!  My penis did it!
Me: Jaxon, you have control of your penis and your pee.  You cannot blame things on your penis - it doesn't just do things on it's own.  That's not how it works.
Jax:  No my penis didn't want a diaper and it got mad and peed, I tried to tell it not to.  My penis doesn't listen.  You don't have a penis!  You don't know!  (Touché son, Touché)
Me: Well make damn sure your penis knows it's unacceptable to pee on people from her on out.  Next time you pee on anything other than the potty you and your penis are both punished!
Jax: You tell it
Me: I am not talking to your penis.  This conversation is over

I think I'm in for a whole hell of a lot of trouble if we're already starting with this.....