Author: Superpaige (Page 124 of 180)

The reason? Because I used the word “death”. Hmm. I would have thought it was because I complain about my kids occasionally. Well, in that case, I’ll feel free to complain about them even more, and use words like “crap” and “Oh my heck!” and “death” all I want.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and put the little monsters to bed.

And even though I don’t have tiny babies anymore, somehow my shirt still gets gross from on the job Mom stuff.

and this one just made me chuckle.

I feel a little bit grumpy this morning. I feel kind whiny. I feel kind of like complaining.

-John has regressed in his potty skills (if that’s at all possible). Not only does he poop in his pants daily, but it’s a kicking screaming battle to get him to use the potty. Every. single. time. I’ve tried the treats, and I’ve even done some threats (‘if you fuss and scream you will lose one of your cars’ and yes, I’ve thrown away his precious cars). It’s still a battle every single time I say, ‘let’s go and use the potty’. I just don’t know if I have the energy to hold out with this stubborn child. Maybe I should just let him go back to wearing diapers. Until he’s 15.

-We got a call from the scout master last night. Cole and 3 other boys were sick with the flu and he was sending them home. The poor kids. Actually, two more came home later. It sounds like Cole is the least sick of them, as he only threw up once or twice in the nurse’s station. I think he was just exhausted, maybe overheated. That and they had hot dogs for lunch. But of course we got the call just as we were about to leave for a swimming party at our friend’s mansion (they used to be our neighbors, but they’ve moved up in the world and now have this incredible house with a pool). We decided to go to the party and told our babysitter (Cole’s friend) to call us when Cole came home, and we’d come home and take care of him. So, right when they were bringing out the incredibly yummy tri-tip roast, we got the call. Umm, we’ll be home in about 20 minutes (after we eat some yummy food). But we got a call later from another scout’s mom (who was at the party, but didn’t know her son was sick, since he was in the second round of kids being brought home), who asked if Cole was still throwing up. Her son was throwing up every 15 minutes. Those poor kids. But at least they are home safe and not injured or eaten by bears. I expect Cole will probably sleep the whole day and then feel much better.

-My birds just keep pooping. And pooping. And pooping. (I told you I was in a whiny mood. If you didn’t want to read it, you could have just clicked somewhere else, people.)

-My house is a mess.

-I spent the day at the Children’s museum with my kids, having loads of fun, and as we pull into the driveway (absolutely exhausted. Oh wait, that was just me. The kids still had enough energy to bicker on the way home) Natalie asks, “Can I go to Maggie’s?” Where is the ‘Thank you, mom,’ or the ‘that was fun, mom’ or even the ‘you look tired from all that driving, mom’

-Megan comes home from her camp today. I hope she’s not sick. I hope she had a good time. And I hope when she sees her really clean room with a new bed and a new bed spread (not painted yet, of course) she doesn’t just say grumpily “Where’s all my stuff?!” (the answer to that question would be in a box in her closet, not in the trash).

So, there it is. There’s my complaining for the morning.

And when I think about other moms who are going through treatment for brain tumors or the moms whose kids are really sick and they have to worry about rising hospital bills and who are holding a benefit concert tonight but worrying if people will come to it, or my dear friend who just lost her mother-in-law to a long hard battle with cancer, then I just shut my mouth and stop complaining and start counting my blessings.

Well, I’ve gotten the kids’ rooms cleaned, organized, threw out bags of stuff, built new bunk beds, and moved dressers. Everyone now has a dresser and a bed in the room where they are sleeping. I’ve patched some wall damage and bought a new bedspread for Megan’s queen bed, and now it’s time to paint. Only I’m a chicken. I’m afraid of painting. It’s so much work and it takes so dang long, and there’s all that taping and I’m not the best painter (lots of mistakes and smudges, people). And I’m afraid to commit. I’m a paintophobe. Which is funny. My neighbor teases me because she thinks I’m this ultra quick decision maker since I bought a new couch and love seat in one visit to one store. So after I told her on Sunday that we were moving bedrooms this week, she called me on Monday and said, “so are you painting right now?” Um. No. I’ve had to buy two bedspreads (one which I will take back) and I’ve rearranged furniture several times. And I don’t know what color paint to buy.

So help me out, if you would. Here’s the bedspread I’ve got for this room.The colors are a little bit brighter in person, but you get the idea. So when I asked Megan what colors she’s like on her wall, she said green and blue. Green like the grass, and blue like the sky. Hmmm. We have a green carpet in there, and one wall already has a castle mural painted on it. I’m not painting over that. I don’t care if it doesn’t match with the rest of the room, it took me a long long time to paint that, and I’m not ready to give it up, dangit. So, I was thinking of maybe a light turquoise paint on the top 2/3, and maybe brown on the bottom 1/3 of the wall. But would that look ok with the green carpet and this colorful bedspread? IEEEk. I’m not a decorator and I don’t play one on tv. I’m not very good at this kind of stuff and I need some help. Maybe I should call my neighbor. Any thoughts?

Ryan is having a little Portuguese practice this week.  He’s training a Brazilian guy at work from Control 4 Brazil, and apparently all that thinking is frying his brain.  I’m kind of glad it’s not me.  It’s been quite a few years since I have spoken German for any length of time, and I know it would be a struggle.  But if indeed we are going to travel to Brazil in the next year for the dedication of a new temple there, he’s going to have to brush up on those language skills.  ‘Cause heaven knows I’m going to be absolutely no help in that department.

Stage one– Clean it.
Yesterday I worked like crazy. Mostly on Megan’s room. I removed two bags of trash, one bag for DI, and cleaned and organized her closet. UGH.

Stage two–Buy it.
We needed a new bunk bed for the girls, so we met Ryan at IKEA. It was actually kind of a fun outing. The girls got to go in Smalland (John can’t go until he wears real underpants–those meanies), we had a fun dinner of meatballs, ceasar salad and mac and cheese, and we found a bunk bed (which was actually priced less than that is listed). I also got a new quilt cover bedspread thing for Megan’s queen bed, but when I got it home realized that it won’t work for her bed. Duh.

Stage three-Build it.
When we got our large flat boxes home, we had to haul them into the house (Ugh!),and then proceeded to build the bunk bed. The kids (all THREE of them) were so excited, they were running around getting in the way. We got it put together with a minimal amount of swearing (luckily when Ryan dropped the drill, it didn’t land on anyone).  That may be our only trip to IKEA ever again, at least as far as Ryan’s concerned.  He said that now he won’t be able to think of that store without remembering that if you buy it, you must build it.

Stage four–Wonder what in the world we have gotten ourselves into.
Unfortunately, that shoulder/back injury I had from yoga the other day is back again.  Probably from lifting heavy stuff and carrying it up the stairs.  Or it could be from any number of things I hauled around yesterday.  But it was a painful night’s sleep, and now anytime I move anything (arms, back, shoulders) I feel a short stab of pain.  Oh the joys.  And the hall up there is also kind of a death trap, if you want to know the truth. I’ve got John’s car bed standing up in the hall (he’s decided he doesn’t want to use that bed anymore, he just wants to sleep on the bottom bunk of “Cole’s bed”); plus the crib mattress against another wall. The central vac is of course in the way of anywhere you want to stop, so you could trip over that.  We took apart Natalie’s old twin bed, which was falling apart, and now it’s in pieces up there.  I don’t know what to do with it.  Welding project, anyone?  There’s also a box spring that we don’t need now.  It’s on the porch waiting for someone from freecycle to decide they want it and come and pick it up.  Nothing says ‘white trash’ like a box spring on the porch, now does it?

Stage five–lay on the floor and cry because of all the work that’s left to be done.  (It’s similar to stage four, but it’s kind of the ‘morning after’ stage.  If you couldn’t tell, that’s the stage I’m in now.  I don’t know if I’ll even get to picking out paint for Megan’s room, let alone paint this week.  There’s so much stuff on the floor in both Natalie and Cole’s rooms that it will take me all week just to try to organize that.  Help me Calgon, take me away.  No.  Seriously–take me away.