The Mind Of A Crazy Lady

It's Monday morning and the house is quiet. Here's what's on my mind. In no particular order:

1. Children #2 and #3 slept over at my sister's house last night. Hence, the reason for my quiet house this morning. I'm now wondering if I can somehow enter the Witness Protection Program before they get home. You know, like, just disappear. I bet it would take them a week to even realize I was gone.

2. I forgot to wear my bra. True dat. For an entire day. And guess what? I didn't even notice a difference. Just keepin' it real.

3. I want to start a new kind of Pinterest. One for women over the age of 40. Who's with me? How many more pictures do we need to look at of grown women who lift up their shirts and take pictures of their toned tummies? It's ridiculous. Looking at your naked middle section does not inspire me to work out. In fact, it makes me eat a bag of licorice and watch TV. Duh.

4. This daughter had to dress up as Thor for the camp skit:

Even better- she wore a blonde mullet wig. Her friends all told her she looked just like her dad when she was on stage. Cha ching, that's awesome. Or not.

5. We watched The World Cup on Saturday. Child #2 is now seriously worried that all those soccer players have terrible farmer's tans.

6. And then this:

I've been walking every morning. Why? Because I'm convinced I have a disease. The "I'm over 40 and I feel like crap" disease. My brain has decided that exercise might make me feel better. Reality tells me that's just a big 'ol bunch of stupid. But I'm still giving it a go. The sunrise usually makes it worth it. For 4.3 seconds.


Enjoy your Monday.
Happy random, crazy thoughts.
And a Thor hammer.

The Circus Goes To The Dentist

If I were a kinder person, I would schedule individual dental appointments for each kid. But instead, I think merely on a functional level. So, I set up all 3 one right after another. I do this every summer. You would think by now that the dental office would have clued in to the mayhem we bring with us. To date, they have yet to ban us from ever entering. But let it be noted, I think they're close.

Yesterday we trailed in through the doors. I stood at the front desk and the sweet, unsuspecting girl in scrubs said, "Wow. They just keep coming." Apparently my girls all look alike. I don't see it, but when they're all bunched together I get lots of comments. I leaned in close to scrub girl, "You have no idea. Things are about to get interesting." 

Within nanoseconds, #2 and #3 started fighting over who was dumber. Obviously I could have cleared the issue right up, right quick. But why? The TV wasn't working, so I just let them have at it.

Once the first child was taken to the back, the others simply decided to follow. I trailed behind super, duper slow. Like, turtle slow. I stopped and looked at every single picture hanging on the walls. Because, really? That many Fosters in a cubicle? Totally not good.

By the time I forced myself to join them, #1 was being examined, while #2 and #3 were opening ALL the drawers within reach. They. Touched. Everything. Oh, the questions they threw upon that poor hygienist. Once they got bored with Sam's teeth x-rays, they tried to get her to show them scans from other patients. Apparently that's a no-no.

Child #3 loudly proclaimed she hadn't taken her pills that day. That cleared up quite a few things real fast.

Teenagers #1 and #2 had a smack down/drag out over who had the better ring. One was wearing a real, for legit, silver ring. The other was wearing a plastic dinosaur ring she discovered in the toddler treasure drawer.

All on their own, they discovered that the hygienist is moving to Florida. They asked her, for serious, if they could come stay with her so she could take them to DisneyWorld.

The Favorite Baby Child kept blowing up gloves into cow utters while she paced in and out of the cubicle. All while passing The Oldest Child who was concentrating on playing a game on my phone that the twins play. Who are 5. When anyone got marginally close to her, she would scream, "Don't bump me!"

Oh, and the dentist (Whose a big fella. Like, works-at-the-gym-and-drinks-protein-shakes kind of big.) gave the 2 youngest a lecture on being nice to one another. As soon as he left the room they started giggling. Uh huh.

And the best part of this whole suicide mission? Child #1, who is an AP student, the one who will be a senior in a few months, the one I'm betting Vegas odds on getting out of this house alive, decided to tell me this:

"Mom. You know that new girl at church who I've become friends with?"

"Yes."

"You know how I told you her parents are really busy because they are substitute firefighters?"

"Yes."

"Well, it turns out they actually just work at a sandwich shop. It's called Firehouse Subs."

{silence..........}

I just squinted my eyes real hard and stared at her while I thought, "Well, crud. She's the smartest one I've got. There goes that pipe dream."

And after that, I took them clothes shopping at Old Navy.
I'm not even going to talk about what went on there. If I do, I'll probably start to hiccup/cry/sob all at the same time.

Oh, and just so you know. No cavities. At all.
Which, I'm pretty sure was a lie. The dentist just didn't want us coming back.
No kidding.

 

A New Level Of Lazy Summer

This is the real deal. Here's how it goes...

The Foster kids get up. Whenever.

And they watch different shows. On their phones. With the ginormous TV sitting silently in the background.

I tell them to get up and get dressed. They respond, "Eh."

And then I demand to know who ate rice while sitting on the couch.
I'm informed that those are fingernails and toenails.

"Duh, Mom. That doesn't even look like rice."

"Well. Why didn't you clean it up?!"

"I thought about pushing it off onto the floor. But, I didn't."

And then, because the day has been so exhausting already, they got back to bed.
For legit.

Just keepin' it real. For the love.

Lesson Learned

The oldest 2 have been at camp all week. This is the first time in 3 years that I haven't gone with them. Truth be told, I'm sad. Well, most of the time.

#3 has been left behind all these years, so I was determined to fun it up with her this week. Guess what that means to an 11 yr. old? Spending lots of money on elaborate plans. And making huge messes in my kitchen. All with friends. Not her mother. She made that point very clear.

With a brief moment between the 2 of us, I decided to have a little heart to heart. You know, tell her mom stuff: I will love you for ever and ever and ever, You can always tell me anything, I'll always be there for you. That kind of thing.

So, The Favorite Baby Child places her hands flat on the counter, tilts her head, and just looks at me. Then she says:

"Cool. You're like my assistant. Get me a Dr. Pepper."

Aannnndddd..... Lesson #436 in Parenting-- Never engage them in conversation.
Like, ever.

The End.

One-Five

Today #2 is finally 15. She can officially get her driver's permit. Because, up until now, she has been driving unofficially. A lot. For long distances. With my sister.

All mothers metaphorically move mountains for their kids. It's just what we do. But this girl? This very vibrant and unique girl? Her mountains just keep coming. And I work and work to move and lift and ease. And my arms and mother heart feel exhausted. Sometimes she even stands fast on top of the mountain just to make it that much harder to move.

She arrived on the scene this way. She is an out-of-the-box thinker and doer. There is nothing, not one thing about her, that is typical or standard. She sets her own mold and moves her own way. She lives to her own beat.

And because of this glorious girl, I have had to rewrite all I thought I knew about mothering and about the world. She has made me stretch and think and work. Lots and lots of work. And crying.

But in all that stretching, in all that searching, she has shown me what the top of the mountain actually looks like. And it's beautiful. Just like her spirit.

I'm wired to keep my eyes on the straight ahead goal and the work it takes to get there. She's wired to blur those edges and look straight up high to freedom. Oh, how she teaches me. About beauty and delight and using your energy to fuss over the only things that truly matter.

And love. Her mountains and where she stands have taught me about the truth of a mother's love. What it all really means. Even when it's ugly. Even when it's hard. She is a gift. Always.

Happy Birthday my beautiful girl.
May you always remember what makes you so very extraordinary.


**But Kellie? It would be really super awesome if you could find a way to do a little more homework. M'kay?

How We Photo Shoot

I asked for only 1 thing.
One.

A daddy/daughter picture on Father's Day.

It's like the Freak Show dressed up pretty.
And hugged each other.

And I find them extraordinarily beautiful.
I adore these people that belong to me. They make my heart whole.

Happy Father's Day.
I hope your photo shoots were a success.

Word To Your Mother

I'm Street.
Did you know?
What about rad?
For legit?
Lame?
Yes. We shall go with Lame.


Words heard coming from the mouths of my offspring within the last three days:


Child #2 is walking through the house with a friend. As friend looks around, she comments, "Wow. It looks like Pinterest in here."

#2 responds: "Yah. My mom likes crafts. It's pretty much all she ever does."

Does she ever consider who does all the crappy jobs around here that everyone hates? Like laundry?

***

The 2 oldest had their well-check visits. I loop them together to make it easier on myself. But then they battle over who's taller, smarter and has better eyesight. It's entertainment at it's finest. And just an FYI- Teenager #2 is now officially taller than Teenager #1. Joyous dancing was involved.

After all the regular inspections, the pediatrician made me step out and then she talked to them briefly one on one. Once we were in the car, I asked what they talked about.

"Oh, you know. Just regular stuff. Like, if we do drugs."

"What did you say?"

"All day. Every day."

She said it without missing a beat. She had that answer at the ready.
I am the mother to impressive children. Wouldn't it be fun to know what that doctor wrote in her handy dandy medical chart?

***

The Favorite Baby Child needs her tonsils out. 5 cases of strep in 7 months will do that. We sit in the office as the doctor describes to me how the surgery will go. Child #3 doesn't stop talking. Ever. I keep my eyes concentrated on the doctor, urging him to continue with his grueling details.

#3: "Hey. My friend told me that if you are born in the month of November, you're a serial killer....That's how you say that, right?......Serial Killer?"

The doctor's eyes go wide, and I respond, "She's a gifted child. For serious."

***

Y'all. This is Fosters at their finest.

For legit.
See? I am Street.

Have a great weekend, Homies.

My New Adoption Plan

I am a person who craves routine. Sturdy, steady and regular. I function best without change. I'm just wired that way. I wish (only sometimes) that I was adventurous. But just the thought of being spontaneous gives me hives.

The transition from school days to summer days feels like this crazy juggling act. Am I the only one? For months we have lived on a constant, busy schedule. And now? Good grief. Now, they have so much free time, it's just oozing out all over the place.

They entertain themselves by moving my furniture and doing gymnastics everywhere. They make messes and listen to music All. Day. Long! Have I ever mentioned my aversion to music? Hmm. It's quite strong.

And the TV remains on every waking moment (We've watched every episode of Say Yes To The Dress). If I were a better parent, I would limit their "screen time". But, seriously? Then I would just have to entertain them. Or take them to the store with me. For the love, that thought makes me nauseous.

For the last 3 mornings, I've woken up with a determination to get it together. But then I get up. And I look around. There are piles everywhere and my little people start talking non-stop. So, I lay back down on my bed and look at Pinterest. Which, can we discuss why soooo many people need to lift up their shirts and take pictures of their abs? It's almost as weird as all the pictures of pregnant women standing in wheat fields.


Today I've come up with a genius plan. It may be my best one yet. Ready?

I'm starting a Summer Adoption Program. Bah Bam! My kids are up for grabs.

Child #1 has a job and sleeps in her free time. So, you can't have her.
But, #2 and #3 are free for the taking. They can babysit. And my sister claims they can actually clean anyone's home but their own.

There is a certain choir teacher who adores my kids. Which is weird, because she has had Foster children in her class for years. You would think she would have switched jobs by now. Somehow she finds them amusing. So, I'm hoping she adopts them. If she doesn't, we can start a sign-up sheet. They're available 6 days a week. (I have to take them to church on Sundays so I still look like a good mother.) M'kay?

Should we start a bidding war?
What about bartering? You keep my kids all their waking moments and I decorate your house? That's just a reality show waiting to happen.

This just might turn out to be the best summer ever.

I Remembered What I Forgot

Summer is like childbirth. You totally forget how bad it is until you're in the middle of it. Somehow your memory has a wipe out from the last go around. Living with your kids all summer long vs. labor pains without medication? Totally exactly the same thing. For reals.

There are certain qualities about your children that you are "aware" of during the school year. But when they're gone for several hours a day, you can will your brain into delusion. Somehow, when my people are at school, I can convince myself that they're normal. Hard work, no joke.

But now. {pause for dramatic sigh....}
They. Are. Home. {swallow the tears}
All day long. {hold in the panic}

This is just the tip top point of summer. And guess what? I just remembered that they're idiots. Plain and simple. I love and adore them. But come on!

#2 decided to wrap elastic bands (normally used for bookmarks) around her head. I made her take them off once it was clear the circulation was shutting down.

And she got fake nails put on again. 2 days later, she spent 45 minutes digging them off with her teeth. She kindly left them in a pile on the piano.

One of the worst gems of summer? Every day becomes a Saturday. The house gets trashed, the kids whine about having to get off the couch and there is no place I can hide that's quiet.

Are you feelin' it? The labor pains?
Yah. Me too.

It's A Wrap

This morning, I drove one of the teenagers to school for her last final. This particular teenager has issues with me. High on the list is the fact that I exist. And I try to engage her in conversation. Which only fuels my imagination with ways to torment her. It's the little things in life that make me happy.

This morning I'm in my pajamas. No bra (not that it's remotely noticeable). And my hair should have been washed yesterday. I'm in top form and I silently consider my options. This is the greatest way to entertain a mother's brain. And I decide that I could totally fake running out of gas. Stranded on the side of the road. By the high school! And then we would have to walk to the school. Together.

This thought makes me so happy. Can you just picture it? Makes you smile, no? Why not start the summer with a full-blown teenager melt down? My holy heavens, I could write an expert manual on how to raise children.

The Favorite Baby Child is no longer a baby. She had her big 5th grade party. And now, just like that, elementary school is no longer. I've been through this cycle before. So I know what's coming. I have minimal time left where she actually likes me. I'm gonna soak that up.

Technically, today is the last day of school. But my expert parent self told her, "Eh. You don't have to go. Then I can sleep in." Why not give the teachers one less Foster child to deal with? It's like a gift.

And because I try to buy my children's love at any opportunity, I bought donuts for breakfast and made them Welcome To Summer goodie bags. Every now and then I'm a super darling mom. Don't worry, it rarely lasts long. And the teenagers really don't even notice.

At the end of every school year, I usually find myself thinking through this last September to June. I try not to look too closely, because that's just not healthy. But I do think about all that has come and gone. I barely survived this year. Barely. Note that I have low qualifications of "surviving".

So, if you're a mother, and you've made it through another school year, you're a champion. No matter your level of sanity.

Here's to a peaceful summer! (Clearly, I live in a dream world.)

What May Brings

May is such a weird month. It's the school year wrap-up. But it also becomes this never ending 'final performances, awards, banquets and parties' type of month. The last 2 weeks of school feel full-tilt crazy. Why is that?

Don't school administrators know that we parents are trying to suck up every last moment of silence? It's like they want us to come to the school and sit for 40 minutes so we can see our child get a Good Attitude award. (Which by the way, is quite shocking for any of my offspring. Every time one of my kids gets this award, I'm totally positive they got the names mixed up.)

On the flip side, I'm having these sentimental/flashback parent moments. The Favorite Baby Child is leaving elementary school. I took one of my favorite twins to eat lunch with her. As I sat in that lunch room, I realized that I will never eat lunch with one of my kids again. Parents are ragingly uncool once a child leaves 5th grade. So, I'm out of the cool club. For like, ever. That gives me serious pause. And quite frankly, a few tears.

And then, oh and then. There are my teenagers. I find myself really looking at them. I don't know why the end of the school year does this to me. But I try to take them all in. How they've grown and who they are becoming. These 2 are together a lot. And this last week, my mother heart has realized that I will only see them drive off together for one more year. That's really hard to think about.

So, I take their picture. And they find it beyond annoying. Which, of course, makes me deliriously happy. And then I cave and take them lunch to school. Oh, and when they call me and say they have a headache, I buy them a caffeinated beverage and deliver that too.

And just because May is what it is, cousins came to town. There are no words for the happiness they bring. There is a special kind of magic that happens when family is all together. I wish I could bottle it up and keep it.

And just so you don't mistakenly think we are going soft over here at the Foster house, here's what we have been "arguing" about over the weekend.

We have had full blown discussions about the official color of this cartridge. I'm totally not kidding. Magenta, Pink or Purple? I've almost had a smack down with a few people because they dared to contradict me. We're just keepin' it real around here.

Summer arrives on Friday. Just thinking about it gives me the heeby geebies.
I'm going to try and get my act together within the next 4 days. But we all know that's totally not gonna happen.

And just in case you're curious, that cartridge is purple. Don't you even dare disagree.