TGIF, what kind of bunk is that?

Who ever invented the phrase TGIF was obviously single with no children. As much as I look forward to the end of a work week I dread the insanity that a weekend with children and husband home creates. For those of you who adore ever minute with your family and would never (insert gasp and indignant look here) get the urge to lock yourself in the bathroom or fake an illness to gain a few precious moments of peace, this is the time to stop reading.

I want to start by stating that I do love my children and husband but the next 48 hours will try every ounce of patience and sanity that I have (as happens EVERY weekend). Tomorrow morning we will be awakened before dawn by children that during the week I have to drag crying and moaning out of their beds after 7:00. The day will begin something like this........crashing noises and sounds of children jumping off the back of the couch and then "stop it", "no you stop it", "no", "I'm telling" and then the bedroom door will crash open. Upon getting out of bed we will find that there are candy wrappers, cracker packaging and maybe a Popsicle wrapper or empty box of something lying around. Apparently getting up before dawn allows one to break every rule in the house with no fear of consequence. It also has to cause some kind of retrograde amnesia because every weekend they forget that the previous weekend this kind of behavior was NOT OKAY!

We will then struggle to get the children fed (with something that closely resembles a respectable breakfast, i.e. Lucky Charms or maybe a Poptart) and ready for a 9:00 am soccer game (in the pouring rain). We will come home from the game, get dry, eat some kind of nutritious lunch (pb&j) and then back for a 1:30 game. We will come home and have big plans to clean the house. After sitting down for "just a minute" we will look at the clock and realize that it is 6:30 and we have done nothing and the kids have just lost 250 brain cells watching movies in their room all day. We will then prepare a wonderful and nutritionally balanced dinner (chicken nuggets with two tiny baby carrots) and get the children showered, medicated (Flintstones and asthma meds, shame on you who were letting your minds think the worst) and with teeth brushed and books read we will put them in bed. The next two hours will be a battle of pure willpower. Who will outwit, outplay and outlast their opponent? Will it be the children or the parents who finally give in and give up in the greatest of all battles....the battle of bedtime.

Sunday will involve getting up and realizing that once again we are never going to make it to church on time. Most of the rest of the day will be spent helping at Grandma and Grandpa's. Late afternoon we will realize that we promised (probably pinky swore and there is no greater bond) to take the children to the pumpkin patch. We will rush there and catch the last wagon of the day to the field. In the dark we will let the children enjoy their hunt for the best pumpkin ever (as long as it doesn't take longer than 3 minutes to find and cost more than $2.50). We will finally get home about the time the kids should be in bed and furiously try to put a weekends worth of cleaning and laundry into the last fleeting moments of our "weekend". I will bat my eyes at my husband and convince him that I need him to go to the attic and get the Halloween decorations and that they just have to go up tonight. It doesn't matter that that it is dark and the kids should have been in bed an hour ago, the neighbors have had theirs up for two weeks and I am embarrassed! Finally we reach a point where the kids are wandering down the hall to their bedroom (it amazes me how it can take 25 minutes to travel something that is less than 10" long). Suddenly, they realize that they forgot to do their homework. Cody will remember that it is sharing day on Monday and Jordan will need to pack a lunch. An hour later they are finally off to bed again.

As I fall into bed that night I realize that going to work on Monday is not looking so bad.....................

Say goodbye to binkies

After 6 months of preparing Luke for his third birthday, and the time that we had declared he must go binky free, the day was finally upon us. Saturday night as he got ready for bed I could not help myself and began to cry like I had watched a greeting card commercial. The older two boys looked at me with a look that could only convey affirmation of their growing understanding that Mom was indeed strange. Luke on the other hand was curious as to the sudden tears. Daddy was quick to inform him that Mommy was just having a hard time with Luke getting so big (after 9 years of marriage he is finally is starting to get it....

Sunday the big day arrived. After Luke awoke the binkies were all handed in and the party began. That evening as he got ready for bed he mentioned the binky only once with a question that was more a statement, "no more binkies?". We confirmed the hard truth, no more binkies and told him what a big boy he was. He stoically went off to bed and we sat near the monitor listening for him to cry or struggle to sleep. We waited and waited and finally realized that our son was indeed a big boy and that there would be no tears tonight. There have been no tears or problems on the subsequent two nights.

Shhhh, don't tell Luke or Daddy but Mommy has the binkies stashed....you never know when you might need them (only in case of emergency....hmmm maybe I should put them in a glass case somewhere with a small hammer instead of a Ziploc bag). Isn't it great that my three year old is adjusting better than his Mommy?

A new blog begins..........

I have been told that I should start a blog. I am not sure why I have been encouraged to do this (maybe someone thinks I need a new hobby). It is beyond my comprehension that that there are those so in need of entertainment that they would want to read about my daily life. But apparently the masses (and by that I mean all ten of you) are ready and so am I.

Now I don't know much of anything about blogs. I do however, know a lot about talking and typing. I also know that my children are a constant source of material and that I am not likely to run out of something to type about.