I Still Don't Know Who Wiped His Butt....

For at least 2 years now I've been bitching about Boy Terrorist's sleeping habits...as in he doesn't have any.
I think I even called him a crack head...

I can't even pinpoint the night that it all changed...

A few evenings ago I told the boy it was bedtime.  He got up, grabbed my hand and walked up to his bedroom with me.   He got in bed and asked for a kiss and that was it.
No flailing on the ground, no sobs, no protests, no begging for 10 more minutes....

When I got back downstairs and recovered from my shock I realized that bedtime has been easy with him for quite some time now.

Holy shit....he's growing up.  I began to curse time and wrack my brain for all the other things he wasn't doing anymore.
Did he still ask for hugs, did he still need daddy to read him a story, when was the last time he asked me to wipe his butt.....shit! literally shit!

I didn't have time to evaluate any further because of the howling coming from upstairs.
That howling was high pitched and coming from the room next to the golden boy.  As I got closer I could make out the sentence.  "MOOOOOOM!  I need a drink of water!"  over and over and over...and louder each time.

I got princess terrorist her drink of water and realized that we didn't even have to get the golden boy water anymore - he just tells us what he's doing and gets his own water and goes back to bed.

I began to curse time again....again I was interrupted by princess terrorist - she needed a story, then a kiss, then a hug.....then she was crying but didn't know why.

Next she needed a band aid for her shoulder....I don't know why.  I didn't even ask her.  It was almost midnight and I would have covered her pretty little body with band aids if it meant I could get some fucking sleep.

About a week into this ritual I realized that the tides have shifted.
My boy is growing up.

Whats more depressing than my boy growing up is the fact that his sister is following in his footsteps and she's worse than he EVER was!!!

I didn't have much time to dwell on this either because as soon as I got into his new chapter the bastards turned the table on us once again...

For the last week both kids have gone to bed quietly and with little resistance.  I should have known they were up to something....

 About 25 minutes after we put them to bed (just long enough for us to get comfortable in our own bed)  we hear a blood curdling scream come from the boys room.
Only one problem - it's his sister's voice making the scream...
We run in to the boys room and there he is SOUND ASLEEP.  Just behind him is his sister.  Screaming because she wants down.  (If you don't remember Jax has a fancy loft firehouse bed that's accessed through a cutout ladder)

This is in my bed and as you can see it's daylight so of course they're both sound asleep....

We're still not sure how he gets her up there, but we're going on night 3 of this shit and it's like fucking groundhog day.

I don't know whether I should be sad that he's growing up, happy that he loves his sister or just pray for the madness to stop.

I am in the market for a ladder though.  Maybe if she can get herself down after the boy nods off we can all get some sleep....

Hello My Name is Ashley and My Kids Make Me Seem Like an Alcoholic

To strangers...

Bringing the kids to the liquor store has always made me feel weird....like I was bringing them to a crack house.  (I know, I look like I have my shit together, but this is the weirdo shit that runs through my brain: liquor store +toddler= crack house)

I feel like everyone's looking at me and thinking "Look at that lady, she can't even take her kids home before getting that barrel of booze"...Well, that and I generally don't bring the terrorists anywhere in public - definitely not a store full of breakable glass bottles.  (I call them terrorists for a reason)

Daddy's a little more sane than mommy and a lot more adventurous.  He takes the terrorists EVERYWHERE!

This is typically a good thing.  They get fresh air, they see the sky....mommy stays home and has peace and quiet.

Well as it turns out Daddy's been taking them to the liquor store.  Now I know it's not an actual crack house and on the surface you're thinking "SO WHAT"
Here's the deal...the liquor stores give out suckers (lolly pops, dum-dum's, whatever they're called).  Boy terrorist likes them A LOT...

This is the little sucker addict here...prob pouting because he has no sucker

 I was shocked a few weeks ago when we drove by the LQ  (liquor store for short) and my son screamed "Stop at the sucker store mom! I want a sucker!"Mainly because he actually recognized the place.  This went on for a few weeks.  Annoying if I was in a hurry but harmless and kind of cute.

What was not cute was when we went to the grocery store and my son had an all out meltdown because he wanted to go to the liquor store for suckers (we pass by it on the way tot he grocery store).
"I WANT TO GO TO THE LIQUOR STORE!!!!....puuuuulease Mommy, bring me to the liquor store."    This went on the entire shopping trip.

No, the little shit didn't follow that with "because I want a sucker"  he just kept begging me to take him to the liquor store like a 40 year man old man hell bent on starting a week long bender.....

I think I would have gotten less looks had I lit a cigarette and asked him to hold it for me while I shopped.

This is why we don't do "public"
This is also why I better never be stuck in a nursing home.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a side note this is what happens when Jaxon tries to be and hold his sucker at the same time....
Unfortunately I don't have a picture of him. He was in a corner crying because  we wouldn't let him keep sucking on it....

That's the sucker

Removing the sucker with a grabber tool...

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.

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...

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..... 

Secrets & Pigs

The boy terrorists hates naps and he hates going to bed (He still NEEDS naps though) .
He will find 15 million reasons to stay out of bed or get up out of bed to prolong this atrocious sentence imposed by the cruel dictators who run the house.

This usually involves asking to pee, getting water or needing to "tell you something".
The latter has been the most prevalent as of late.  We've begun to stop him at the stairs and make him tell us his news from the landing. (His bedroom is upstairs and the living room is downstairs.  He was able to turn that whole trip into a 15 minute excursion)

Boy terrorist

This kid is maddening, but I've got to hand it to him he's smart...he's changed his tactic.  Lately he comes down and tells one of us that he needs to tell us something "in our ear" before we can send him packing.

The husband and I  being as curious as we are fall for it every time.  (typically he just tells us he loves us or needs to pee.)
Usually this is just frustrating and we get fairly annoyed, but "the secret" last week still has us laughing.
I thought I'd share:

(As told to my by the hubby:)
I worked Friday of last week so D was home with the kids alone. He put them both to bed.  Girl terrorist was down for the count.  Boy terrorist had shared his 57 secrets and was assumed to be asleep.  D settled in and decided to play a little PlayStation (New Christmas Gift)
The game of choice was Grand Theft Auto.  A totally unsuitable game for kids - which is why he waited till the terrorists were asleep.  (The game in a nutshell - you steal cars, walk around and beat people up and do "missions".)

Anyway, in this particular instance Derek was running the player around the city and came across a pig.  He kicked the pig out of the way (IN THE GAME - he wouldn't kick a real pig)  and went on about the game.
A while into his game D hears the boy terrorist making noise at the top of the stairs and tells him to get back in bed.

Par for the course, Boy Terrorist needs to tell him something - "in his ear".
Derek pauses the game and tells him to come down and say what he needs to say.  (Fully expecting "I love you" or "I need to pee")
Instead, Boy Terrorist leans in and says "Daddy, don't kick pigs".
With that he walked away and went to bed...

I don't know if it's the unexpected or if we're just a little nuts, but we haven't been able to stop laughing about it all weekend.
D will lean over to me and whisper "Don't kick pigs" and I die laughing.
I think we have issues...

The end.

This is what we resort to when he wont sleep...

Tired of Hearing Myself Bitch

I'm sitting here at my desk eating my broccoli cheese soup (yes it's 9AM, no I don't care), browsing through Facebook &mentally commenting on all of my "friends" Facebook posts.

Because what else is there to do on a snowy Tuesday....well besides work, prepping for my weekly meeting and about 15 other things that can apparently wait until I finish this post.

Anyway, as I'm mentally commenting (not nice things) I realize it's always directed at the same person.  Every one of their posts is negative: "my life sucks, this person sucks, work sucks, the weather sucks, people are stupid, etc..."

I want to call them and scream
"Christ...go jump off a cliff and end it already if it's that bad!!!"
(Before you freak out let me assure you - this person is not depressed and I wouldn't actually say that out loud.  They just like to bitch)

That also got me thinking...isn't that exactly what I do here?  Bitch, bitch, bitch.  Bitch about my kids grades, bitch about the way they wake up, bitch about the way they travel.

While it's all true and it makes me feel better to vent, I don't want to be that person...not every day at least.  I'm glad I can find some comradery in the misery and hopefully make people laugh, but I think I owe it to my kids and everyone else to not constantly be the person that just needs to suck it up quit fucking whining.

So here's the good shit...
For starters I have a totally overachieving uterus.  I had 3 kids without any trying.  I've watched so many people in my life struggle for just one and here I am just shitting them out like pez. When I think about it like that it makes me want to retract all the other blog posts.  I should be at home making foot molds of the kids and talking about how they fart rainbows and glitter.  That would get old too though...

Even better than my overachieving uterus is my  husband... He doesn't have a nobel peace prize or an NFL contract or anything that cool, but he's pretty damn amazing.  If anyone knows me personally saying that I'm easy to handle or mild mannered isn't an understatement it's an outright fucking lie.  He handles me and the 3 kids with an astounding amount of patience and love.  Look, I know I'm not always easy to love but he manages to fake it even in the worst of times.  He's funny and smart, and knows when I need to be left alone and knows when I just need him there next to me.

I'm really not sure how I stumbled on him or why he agreed to marry me but no take-back's fucker!!!!  (Yeah, he laughs at comments like that) 
We make an amazing team, and I'm finally old enough to see the beauty in a team over the need to be independent.

 

On to the chirren... cause even though they are the reason for my constant bitching they deserve some recognition.
















Big Red

She is soft spoken and tender hearted and is well on her way to becoming amazing woman.  She's all the things that a little girl should be.
She's beautiful inside and out and doesn't even know the depth of it yet.  (God help us all when she realizes that one)
I worried about her when we had the terrorists.  She's 8 years older and I really was concerned that she might not bond with them.  I was so wrong.  (She likes them more than I do some days.)  She definitely has more patience with them than I ever do.  She's also my little gymnast...I think we've finally found a sport that suits her and she's amazing at it.  She's a tween so it's about 60/40 right now in favor of the devil tween, but that 40 is a pretty amazing young lady.

Boy Terrorist 

I don't think he has the capability to follow a single instruction to the end, but I know that when my time comes he'll be the one that will go to the ends of the earth to just be there with me.  (I know that it's totally cliche, but there really is something about a relationship of a mother and son)  He loves me best and I love every minute of it.  He's also fucking hysterical.  He says the most off the wall shit and keeps us in stitches.  He is our comedic relief when things get serious.  He's also a fierce protector of his sisters.  We literally have to send him to another room if we are dealing with the girls.  I don't know that they notice now, but one day when we're not there to protect them he'll be the anchor of our family.

Tiny Terrorist
She clearly thinks here father is the only person on earth and I just show up to make dinner and feed everyone. 

But she's damn cute so it's forgiven.  I have no idea what she's saying most of the time.  (Thank god Jaxon translates for me) She's got a temper to rival mine and it's hysterical...I know one day it won't be but for now she's our baby and we all just let it go.  She eats like she's in a contest  - there's nothing the kid won't put in her mouth.  (Except peaches...none of the kids like peaches.  It's just weird)  She's also pretty funny.   While boy terrorist actually says comical things tiny terrorist is just funny to watch.  Whether it's doing the eyebrow thing or shaking her butt she's just enormously cute.

Well there you have it...I don't hate my kids or my life.  I love them all immeasurably and am thankful for all I have.

Now back to bitching about my kids.... ;)