I'm sorry that I've been neglecting you, LJ. It's been almost THREE DAYS without an update. I'm sorry that I haven't been charming and witty. You see, I've been working this week . Working is something that I have generally been avoiding since, oh I don't know, mid-May. You remember, right? When my boss and I couldn't agree?

Anyways, I've been doing a bit of substitute work but usually just on Monday's. I consider it a good MONTH if I manage to work five whole days. But right now, I've agreed to work five whole days IN A ROW. A teacher called asking me to sub in her room while she gets married. (Being requested by a teacher- such a compliment. It does good things to my confidence. I rock as a teacher. Don't ya know?)

And we can't forget that Christmas is coming as I'd hate to disappoint my spoiled rotten children. I need the cash. But working FIVE DAYS in a ROW? It's killing me slowly, LJ. I'm tired. I'm worn out. My patience is thin.

My husband manages to GET SHIT DONE, YO so my house is still pretty clean. Matt even made enchiladas while spoiled rotten children and I watched TV. Speaking of spoiled rotten children, we did have a minor miscommunication about picking Simon today up from school. I thought Matt was picking Simon up. Matt thought I was picking Simon up.

Nobody went to pick Simon up from school.

So, see LJ? It's not so bad. At least you aren't the only one being neglected.

Just ask Simon.

I was honored when eighthcloud asked me to join the Adopt A Mom group. I happily filled out the application. Now, for your viewing pleasure, I'm typing up my nursing stories.

(Forgive me for lacking in wit tonight.)
(Feel free to move along. I'm just wanting to join Adopt a Mom.)

Ahem...

My mother was very supportive of nursing and successfully nursed my sisters and I until we were all over a year. So when I became pregnant, I knew that nursing was something that I was determined to do. I took the classes, I read the books, I bought the pump.



So! Right now, I am happy to fill the shoes as a lactivist. Supporting breastfeeding mothers where ever and when ever I can. I feel pretty very strongly about breastfeeding and hope that I can help others.

Audrey :)

The Pioneer Women is coming to Kansas City tomorrow. And I'm seriously debating whether or not I should go. I want to go. I really, really do. If you don't know the Pioneer Women, take a minute and crawl out from underneath your rock. She's hilarious and weird. And I can personally relate to both of those qualities.


The problem is that otherwise we don't have very much in common.

• She cooks amazing things. Things like the most amazing cinnamon rolls ever known to man. I cook things that end up looking like this which, for the record, include sauce from a can and frozen meatballs:

• She refers to her husband as Marlboro Man. I refer to my husband as Old Man Grey Balls (OMGB) who sometimes wears a helmet:

• She homeschools her children. I let my children do crafts that involve making dough, cooking, and painting. Close enough, right?

• Her blog gets thousands of hits and comments per entry. My blog gets, on average, much less than that.

• She takes beautiful pictures. My pictures? See above. Or see this one of OMGB and Simon. It would be pretty cool except I didn't take it. Bennett did.

So, um yeah... the Pioneer Woman and I basically have nothing in common. And while I can relate to being weird and to thinking that I am funny, I'm not sure anyone else would agree. Although I do tend to crack myself up. (But only sometimes.)

So! Let's recap: she's coming to Kansas City tomorrow. And I think I'm going to go. (Unless I wuss out because that totally might happen.)

Who wants to go with me?

Excuse me for a minute while I brag on the World's most special, smartest, best, brightest child ever.

He's a special one, this kid of mine.


Simon's parent-teacher conference was this morning. And to quote Mrs. Kelly, "I would be happy if I had 23 Simon's in my class. He's delightful, intelligent, comfortable in the classroom, has lots of friends, and behaves very well. He demonstrates enthusiasm and aptitude for learning. Simon is eager to learn new math and science concepts. His good work ethic helps Simon to become a confident beginning writer."

Well, hot damn! Tell me something I don't already know.

( Report card mumbo jumbo. )

Golly, it was just all so nice to hear. 20 30 whole minutes telling us how awesome he is/we are. I feel like so much time was spent preparing him to succeed in the classroom. Every day spent reading and talking and discovering. Every day spent encouraging his growth and teaching him to accept responsibility. It just all happened so darn quickly though. We went from suckling the boob to reading chapter books.

OVER NIGHT.

When I really stop and think about it, it's just so amazing. He's such a smart kid. He's funny. He's incredible. He'll kick your kids' booty. And while I'd like to give myself all the credit, I know that I'm not the only reason he's so special.

Honestly, I have to thank his Daddy too. Cause, I mean, realistically I must give credit where it's due.

I was going through some files on my computer and I found these pictures. The ones from Simon are from 2005.

2005!

Can you believe it?!?

( Then and Now )

"Do what you feel and say what's on your mind, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." --- Dr. Seuss.

The internet is upset with me. Here's a newsflash INTERNET: this little space here is my blog and I've recently had my first taste of disharmony. So rather than throw a pity party for myself, I stopped to remember that I make the rules here. 

It's amazing, really. I get to decide the topic of the day. I get to decide whether to respond to comments/emails. I get to decide if we talk about breastfeeding or teh gays or my beautiful children. (And is it just me or does Teacher Tom say it all really well?)

(Yeah, I thought so too.) 

Anyways, just to point out the obvious, there is no need to hide under 'anonymous.' If you have an opinion, own it. It's okay. We can disagree. You can feed your kid formula. I won't hate you for not agreeing with me. You can vote against gay marriage. I won't not be your friend. And unless I get really, really, really upset I won't even stop reading your blog or leaving you comments.

I promise. Scouts honor. And above all, I won't delete you from my Facebook.

(Not that that happened to me or anything.)

So! For the record: I will continue to do what I feel and I'll say what's on my mind.

And if you mind (or delete me) I might have to send Bennett after you:
 Consider yourself warned.

I said it before and I'll say it again: this whole time changing thing sucks balls. My children need a reset button and a MEMO taped to their foreheads. It should read something like this:

Sleeping is required from 8 PM-7:30 AM. Otherwise VMM (very mean Mommy) will come out to play.

So basically my kids have been waking up between 6:00 and 6:15 am. Although I think we turned a corner this morning because it was 7:00 before any one started stirring. The first words out of Simon's mouth? "Look Mama! I see a 7 on the clock!" This may or may not have had to do with the fact that VMM gave specific instructions the night before. 

"If you wake up and the first number is not a 7 on the clock then ABSOLUTELY no talking, no moving, and no wiggling in my bed. I will not answer questions. I will not find you a bandaid. I will not allow you to turn the TV on. I will not make you breakfast. And if  you wake up your brother, BAD things VERY BAD things will happen. No 7, no moving. Got it?"

So this morning, he's all "Look a 7!" And I'm all, yes. Thank you Jesus. 

In other news, the state of Maine, you disappoint me. It's not about sex, it's about love. If everyone quit thinking about the sex part and started thinking about the love part then maybe, just maybe, we could see past our differences.

I don't believe that we need to protect the sanctity of marriage. (What does that even mean? Like marriage is a goal in soccer? DO NOT LET THE BALL GET IN. DO NOT LET TEH GAYS MARRY.)

I think we need to live and let live. We need to love more. We need to give everyone equal rights. We need to stop judging other people so harshly. It's about allowing people that love each other, that are committed, to get married. It's about protecting their rights. It's about insurance, the end of life, adoption, buying a home. Quit your judging and move on. 

Of course, if you decide to formula feed your baby, I probably will judge you for it. And, this goes without saying, if you wake me up before 7:00 am go ahead and SUCK MY BALLS.

Oh, change of time,
I hate you more than slime.

You mess with my sleep,
I want to kick your *BEEEEEEP.*

My children are awake,
I want to jump in a lake. 

I will swim far, far away 
and hope to get laid, hey!

Oh, change of time,
I hate you more than slime.

~~~~~
I keep seeing all these different blogs commit to posting 30 posts in 30 days. 

I'm not playing. I'm lazy. I own it.

~~~~
Anybody really care about seeing the rest of our Halloween pictures? No? Yes?

Too bad. You don't have a choice.

Candy stash, crazy kid, RAWR, and beautiful children (also: neither looking nor smiling.)

~~~~
My eyes burn,
When will I ever learn?

Go to bed now!

Oh, change of time,
I hate you more than slime.

Started the night at Jefferson's.

(Note to self: drink more before attempting downtown trick-or-treating.)

Wouldn't it be cool if everyone looked at the camera at the same time and smiled?

Yeah, I thought so too.

(Note to self: quit trying.)

Simon's costume could be summed up in one word. FAIL. 

Sorry Grandpa. I know I said I wouldn't post anything. But Simon and I made a video.


And making Simon happy makes me happy.

And when the Mama is happy, everyone is happy.

And on that note, Happy Halloween!

It's so quiet in my house. The only sound I hear is that of the rain and the soft click-click of the computer. The washer was spinning but has now stopped. Bennett is sleeping (in his own bed). The kid is at school. Matty is at work.

In about 30 minutes, the activity will return. I'll grab the sweaty, sleeping baby and load him into the car. Simon will be full of stories, complaints, and anecdotes from his day. When we come back to the house, Daddy will be home to greet us.

Noise and chaos will be an understatement. The dinner will be started. The boys will scream while running up and down the hall. The bath water will run. Stories will be read.

But not now. For now, it is quiet.

Somebody stand up and shout praises to the Lord. Hallelujah.

~~~~
 Let's talk about our dinner for this week. Anybody interested in what we've been eating? 

I thought you would say yes. (Like you even had a choice.)


Spaghetti and bloody eyeballs, mummy pizzas, and worms on a bun (with a side of bloody fruit jello). Please click and follow the links because, well, MY PICTURES SUCK.

Somebody stand up and give me praise. I am the best mother ever.

~~~~
And here's a little photo shoot of Bennett being a PAIN in the ASS at dinnertime. Again, the pictures SUCK but you get a general idea of his crazy, OCD like behaviors. His cup was moved and all hell broke out. 


Somebody stand up and get that kid some therapy.  

~~~~
Finally, to the people who said Bennett is looking grown up. POW! Check this out:


Still in the Hotsling (see also: no pants) because he was (again) being a PAIN in the ASS while I was trying to cook dinner. Solution? Shove his too big butt into the sling and continue on with life.

Somebody stand up and give me a sit down and shut up.

The baby is sleeping. The kid is at school. 

It's time to be quiet now.

Hallelujah.

Hey! It's me, Bennett.

 
My Mom wanted me to do the post tonight. She said something about being tired. I don't know for sure. I wasn't really listening. I like to pretend like I'm not listening and say "huh?" frequently.

It drives Mom crazy.

You know what else drives my Mom crazy?


When Simon and I make a mess. I don't see what the big deal is. It's just a bit of markers, paper, and scissors. I personally love using scissors. I just like to sit and cut, cut, cut. See?
 

It felt good to confess my sins a couple of weeks ago. Very similar and reminiscent of Not Me Mondays, but a little less confusing. I am usually working Mondays anyway and so I haven't played along in a long time. SO! I'll just confess my sins here. Who feels like joining me?

I'll go first:

1. Yesterday's post, while a good one, was not a lame attempt for people to tell me that I was not a mean girl. (Did you catch that? Confused? No? Good.)  It was nice, however, to hear I was not a mean girl in high school. I'm not going to lie. 

2. This blog makes me look like a better Mother than I really am. I yell too much. I lose my patience. Simon speaks and I hear myself, my tone, coming out of him. It makes me cringe. 

3. The mouth hugs that keep coming up? Happen once, like, every 15,434 months. But they sure are fun to talk about. 

4. Noah was in a cat fight. Apparently he lost because his battle wound is costing me $331.97 in Vet bills.
5. I just spent $331.97 on that dumb cat. Seriously. I am pretty darn sure the cat is not worth that much money. For the record, I did not have THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS in my budget. I did pay cash though. DUMB CAT.

6. I have the worst eating habits ever. I eat way too much junk food. I drink pop everyday. I let Bennett drink out of my pop can just so he will shut up be quiet.  Simon didn't taste pop until he was at least three years old. Bennett? Has a few sips every couple of days. 

7. Simon is watching his third movie of the day. He didn't have school today and it's COLD outside. This is no excuse, I know, but this does prove that I don't always have it all together.

8. Sometimes I get tired of being the Mom. Today I : got donuts for breakfast, watched Cari's boys from 7:30-12:00, did an art craft with four boys and BLACK paint (I like to torture myself), made bacon sandwiches for lunch, did 4 loads of laundry, took Noah to the Vet twice (with both boys. Torture, again), went to the bank, read books, washed and changed diapers, and cleaned up nonstop after the boys.

9. I am tired. I want a maid.

Your turn! Anonymous comments always welcome.

You want to know something really pathetic? I get way too much excitement in my life out of this silly little blog.

I can't walk by the computer without refreshing my email. You know, just in case, somebody left me a comment.

I check Statcounter daily to monitor my hits. (Top hit? 395. Average hits? 87. Hits today? 78.)

Sometimes I go through my blog and reread what I have written, while thinking about who might be reading. (It's called KNOWING YOUR AUDIENCE). I change my point-of-view and wonder about what they think.

Here's some examples. (Quotations = their thoughts)

Mother-in-law: "WHAT? She gives my son mouth hugs? What's a mouth hug?"
Sister: "Oh my God. My sister is such a bitch. How dare she call me crazy."
People from high school: "She sure was a lot cooler then. I wonder what happened to her?" 
Neighbor: "Grammatical error. Doesn't this chick know how to edit?"
BFF Jennifer: "Such an exaggerator." *rolls eyes* "She doesn't love Simon that much."
Husband: "My wife is amazing. I am glad the whole world knows what I already knew. Audrey is witty, funny, charming, and beautiful."

Except sometimes my perceptions are totally off. Here's another (maybe, sorta, might have really happened) example:

Random person from high school reading my blog off facebook telling random 3rd party person: "I guess she loves Jesus now. I remember her as the mean girl in high school."

WHAT??? I was never the mean girl. Okay, maybe I had a few moments of not being nice. Maybe there was a wee bit of rivalry between our classes. And maybe I was one of the more popular girls, but I wasn't ever directly in your face mean. Was I? 

Nope, definitely not a mean girl. 

And Jesus?? Do I love Jesus? Yes, I do. I hope not in a mean-I'm-better-than-you kinda way though. In fact, I'm pretty darn liberal with my view of Jesus. (Grandpa P: "My daughter-in-law is crazy.") Jesus loves us all. I don't think there is anything wrong with being homosexual. I also don't think aborted babies are floating around in Hell. And the women that made that particular decision? Not going to Hell. Here's the kicker: (Pastor's everywhere: "Pray for her.") I don't think African villagers are going to Hell either. 

So there it is. You, dear readers, deserve no less than my honest beliefs about Jesus and my former standings in high school. I hope I am not going to lose readers or receive hateful comments tomorrow.

It would totally ruin my day and make me sad.

What does that mean? What do I need to make me happy? Would time away from my children make me happy? Would time to do the things I love make me happier? 

The truth is this: when I think about "me time" or what I want/need and it just doesn't seem to matter right now. Some nights, I would LOVE it if Bennett would sleep all night in his own bed. Every night, I would LOVE for Simon to not feel anxious, worried, or scared about anything ever again. 

My Granny is 83 years old. Do you know how much "me time" she has on her hands? She does nothing all day long. She watches TV. She reads books. She waits for her next therapist or nurse to come visit her.

Right now, at this moment, my children NEED me. They need me to fix their breakfast, tie their shoes, and open the door for them. They need me to read their stories, build the coolest train tracks, and pick them up when they fall. They need me near when they fall asleep.

And that's okay. Because someday soon, they won't. Someday soon I will be just like my Granny. I will have more time than I know what to do with. Will I love the same things then? Will I still love to write? Will my children be close? Will they know how loved they are? Will Matty continue to wait on me day and night?

(This man. Oh this man. I know I don't blog about Matty as much as my boys. But oh how I love him too.)

Will they all remember, know, and feel LOVE with their soul?  

Will they remember how much I yelled at them or how often I hugged them?

In order for me to be happy, I need my husband and my children by my side. I don't want to go grocery shopping alone. I don't mind sharing the bathtub with Bennett. Sure, they sometimes drive me crazy. But by you and beside you is where I want to be.

What about you? What do you need?

 A couple of quick, disjointed items for today.

1.) Bennett is officially off the plug. See? We cut the tip off when he wasn't looking. *snip snip* He cried for a few moments, went to sleep easily that night, and is adjusting without many problems. It did repeatedly break my heart to hear him say (over and over again), "Pacy? Broken?" Now our major issue is, since taking the silly thing away, he's not sleeping through the night.

For the love off all things holy, I have a TWO YEAR OLD WAKING UP AND SCREAMING during the night.

I KNOW.

Whose idea was it to take the pacifier away?

Oh that's right. Mine. It was my idea. 

I don't talk about it frequently, but I am usually parenting through the night by myself. I have to deal with him alone. We are co-sleeping, mostly because I am alone anyways like it,  and it's not going well right now. 

I hold him. Rub his back. Think about throwing him out the window. Offer water. Sush and shhh over and over. Pray for the evil spirits to exit his body. Rub his tummy. Offer his blankets. Retrieve blankets off the floor. Rub his feet. Shhh some more. Threaten to "put you in your crib if you don't stop crying." I hold him some more. Think about sending Matt evil text messages while he works away and I hold a screaming kid.

I have to remind myself frequently: this is a short time in my life. It will be over soon. Stop complaining. Bennett needs me. It's my job to respond to him. He's not asking for his pacy at night, just crying. It will pass. He'll sleep again soon.

~~~~
2.) We started co-sleeping again because of our nighttime ritual changed. Previously, I always nursed B down and read his stories. Matt would simultaneously be reading to Simon in his bed. Matt and I would then meet in the hall, slap a high five, and head downstairs to be together before Matt leaves. Since nursing is over and since we've started reading chapter books, everything has changed.

The little boys and I sit in my bed, all listen to the same stories, and eventually all crash out. I usually fall asleep too. Then I wake up 30 minutes later all hot and sweaty from little boys all over me. I head downstairs, usually grouchy, and hang with Matt while he watches Dexter. I hate Dexter. 

Hours later, when I push kids out of my spot go crawl into my bed, I can't fall asleep because of my "nap" and because of that dumb show.

It, honestly, scares the bejesus out of me. 

~~~~
3.) Speaking of bejesus, raise your hand if you grew up reading Beverly Cleary? Ramona Quimby, age 8? Or Ramona the Brave anyone? (Are book titles underlined or italicized? I can never remember. Shut up, I know I'm a teacher).  Back to Ramona, as a child I so identified with her. She was funny. And cute. And her sister (Beesuz) was mean to her too. Anyways, Simon and I just finished reading Henry and Beezus. (See the connection? Beejesus/Beezuz?)

Henry and Beezus wasn't all that great and was really outdated. One of my favorite childhood stories has been shattered. 

~~~~
4.) It's exhausting being me. Childhood memories ruined. Children who won't sleep. Italics or underline?

I think I'll go take a nap.
 

We took some family snapshots the other day.

Ok, lie.  I decided to take some pictures since everybody was actually dressed (as opposed to Ben in his pjs and me in my super ugly sweats that I wear daily), I was wearing make-up, and the boys weren't dirty. 


I think Matt and Bennett look exactly alike. Same chubby round face, stronger chin, hazel eyes. (See also: pictures of two fat babies.) Simon resembles his MAMA, in attitude and appearance. We both are a wee bit wild, prone to moodiness, and ignore-er of most some rules. In terms of appearance, I think his genes come more from my side of the family. (See also: Simon with pretty ladies.)

I, of course, think they both are the most beautiful, most adorable, could-be-child-models, best-looking, smartest children ever.

But what do you think? Who do you think my children look like?

Scratch that. I just wrote an entire post made up entirely of questions, but deleted it. 

I think it has something to do with teaching a class of 1st graders today.

What do I do next? Where does this go? Is it time for recess? What's your name, teacher? Can I go potty? Can I get a drink? Can you tie my shoe? What's this say? Can I? Will you? Is it? Wash, rinse, repeat.

No more questions! Put your hands down and touch your nose so that I know you are ready to listen. Ready? Are you touching your nose? 

There is something different about this picture. Touch your chin if you see something that is different.  Something has changed. Who can tell me?


I'm only calling on friends that have quiet hands. 

~~~~
Dear Oh Wide World of the Internet,

Of course,  I would be there for you too, if you needed me. 
Absolutely, no questions asked.
Of course I would. Of course.

Audrey