I watched The Simpsons last night. It was a “Treehouse of Horrors“  episode that parodied “The Shining.” I love The Simpsons, love love love them. I’ve watched that show from episode one. My Dad, older brother  and I could quote the series faster than an outlaw can draw his gun. I often compare my kids and family to Homer, Marge and the kids. Last night, and today sadly, I had a Homer moment.

He was playing the Jack Nicholson character and slowly losing his mind. At one point Marge walks in and sees the typewriter. “What he’s typed will be a window to his mind,” she says. All the paper reveals is “Feelin’ fine,” to which she lets out a sigh of relief. Then the lights flash and we see mad scribbling all over the walls saying “No beer or tv make Homer go crazy.” Today, I feel his pain.

I don’t need the beer or television even but I DO want a few seconds of quiet! I guess kids are out of school today and my friend asked if I would keep hers.  I already watch her baby, Noah, for her on a regular basis. She pays me so extra money is always nice. Her older son is the same age is my little Deacon, and they have fun together so I thought sure, why not. Noah is a fat little snugglebug that smiles all the time so I don’t mind having him around at all. Her other son is a sweet kid but I’m just not as great with other peoples children, especially when they aren’t babies. I don’t think it’s my place to tell them what to do. I’ll make sure they are safe, fed and happy, but I’m not here to teach or discipline.

Let me just give you a little back story so, like Marge, you can see into my mind. My washer died on me last week. Thankfully it is still under warranty so the service is free, but when they told me they had to order parts and come back in a few days my heart sank. I have to wash at least 1-2 loads a day to keep up! I can’t have piles of dirty, stinking clothes everywhere! Well, the week is almost over and they have yet to come back and fix my washer.

I also think there is something nesting in the attic above my bedroom and now it smells like funk. We have to climb around in the attic and find whatever has moved in and hopefully shoo them out. In the meantime, my bedroom smells gross and I’ve been lighting every candle I own and spraying smelly stuff everywhere.

Today I have six – count em – six children running (except Noah, he can’t run yet) around the house. No washing machine, no car because my hubby’s is in the shop, so he has mine, a stinky bedroom inhabited by gosh knows what creature and a LONG day ahead of me. I think instead of television and beer, my mad rambling will be: “No washing machine, too many kids and no car makes Katie go crazy”. Catchy, no?

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I’m not a lazy person by nature, really I’m not. I keep a fairly clean house, take care of the kids, I even workout regularly. I don’t have much “down time” and I get nervous when I sit around too much without something to do. One thing I do love though, is sleep. Sadly, I don’t get much of it around here anymore.

Ya’ll don’t even understand how much I love a good night’s sleep. I can feel it. I can taste it! My children, on the other hand, don’t have the same desire. I keep telling myself that one day, maybe when they are teenagers, they’ll sleep late. I’m starting to have my doubts though.

Matthew was the only baby that loved to sleep. His first night home from the hospital, he slept all night. I kept getting up to go check on him (and stare at him) and make sure he was ok. I remember waking up in the mornings at 9:30 or so and jumping out of bed to make sure he was breathing. He was, of course, and slept blissfully through my new Mommy worries.

When he hit about 4 or 5, he all of the sudden started waking up at the crack of dawn. He’d get up, clean his room, make his bed, then sit there until he heard movement from somewhere else in the house.  Yes, he is that good. He cleaned his room first then waited patiently. Amazing, isn’t it?

Miss Sarah, who has recently changed her name to Scarlet because it fits her better, never slept. Never. We finished her nursery the day I went to the hospital. It was beautiful. I had envisioned this lacy, pink, girly paradise when I found out I was having my first girl and buddy, I nailed it too. She had a fabulous Waverly quilt, lace curtains, plush rug, hand painted cabinet (by me, of course) with ballerina slipper knobs, and sweet little pictures and hangings all over. I loved that room but Sarah didn’t seem too.

Realize, I do NOT exagerate these posts, at all. So when I say this, it is 100% true. Sarah was born in about 3 hours flat, no drugs, entering the world like the force of nature she truly is. When the nurses and doctors came in to check on her, she would cry before they even touched her. They would apologize profusely, swearing they didn’t hurt her. I would laugh because I knew it was true, and then they would step back and say what a beautiful baby she was. She really is, my God that child was gorgeous! We had people stop us constantly to tell us she was the most beautiful girl they’d ever seen. Little cherub face, rosy lips, big green eyes and blonde curls: she was absolutely perfect.

Forgive my Mommy moment, but that being said, she NEVER wanted to sleep.  She ate every hour on the hour and slept on my arm for the first 4-5 months of her life. She chunked up from all the late night feedings and earned the name “Butterbean” and later, “Puff” honestly. I didn’t think I’d ever sleep again, so that was tough.

Olivia was a tiny little peanut of a child, and she liked to be right beside me at all times. I think I worried about her more than any of them because she was so tiny. Matthew is independent, and Sarah is tough, but Olivia was just a little bit of a thing. I kept her bassinet right beside me at night and pulled it around the house behind me so I could always see her. This means, of course, that the sleep thing was a big no no.

Deacon is my last baby. Any of you that have the last baby know what I mean.  You want to enter this world of snuggles and kisses with them and hold them every minute of every day simply because you know: you won’t be able to do any of this again. Even when I was up feeding him at 3 in the morning and he’d dirty 5 diapers in a row, I’d just laugh and snuggle him more. You couldn’t help it, he had the fattest cheeks known to man. As soon as he was born, the nurse said “My goodness, Deacon! Look at those cheeks!” How could you not love him?

The problem with that is, they learn real quick that they have Mama wrapped tightly around their finger. I had our play group over not long after he was born and they all laughed at how, no matter where he was, he watched me. If I put him in his bouncy seat, he watched me. Swing, car seat, someone elses arms? You got it!

The only time I’ve slept in recently was when my husband and I took an anniversary trip to Charleston and all 4 kids were with grandparents. Do you know how long it’s been since I went to place that didn’t have kid menus??? Honestly, except for a few birthday dinners that I finish quickly so I can get home to the kids, we haven’t been out as a couple since my eldest was a baby! We had 2 full days of couple time and sleep! I can not even explain to you what that’s like! The closest I could possibly come is “Heaven”.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE being around my kids. I cherish every second of them. It’s just, sometimes, you have to breath and, in my case, sleep! I would LOVE a sleep in Saturday! One where I don’t even hear people getting cereal at 6 am and turning on cartoons. The kind where not a soul moves and all the lights stay off! Is that possible or should I just give up now?

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Last night our 2 oldest wanted to play the game “Password”. You know the game: give one word clues in order to guess the “password”  to win points? Well, since they are 9 and 7, we decided they could be in charge of giving the clues. They are, of course, big readers and being their mother, I feel they have super intelligence. I know their father is a genius and I’m not too shabby when it comes to most common sense type deals. That’s what I get for being a bragging parent.

Miss Sarah was on my team. She was giving me clues with great confidence and joy. Our first round she gives me the words “shiny, metal, hang, and kids”. I sat there staring at her with confusion? Shiny? Metal? A necklace maybe? She gets this look of pure disgust and gives me a “No Mommy!”. Ok, hang? Kids?? A swing? “No, Mommy!”, a little more frustrated this time. We go back and forth for my 5 guesses and she says: “I can’t believe you didn’t get it!” and slides the card over to me. “Bassinet” was the password. I ask her what a bassinet is and she says, “Umm, Mommy, they are those things on the stairs so you don’t fall!”. She left out the “Duh!” right after but I knew she was thinking it.

I had to explain exactly what a bassinet was and she seemed to grasp the concept. Ok, I thought, so she doesn’t know what a bassinet is! She’s a kid, why would she? Bring on the next word! She smiles, confident that she knows this one, no problem. “Clean”, she tells me. “Umm, our house?” I guess. “Mommy!” she frowns. My bad. “Tooth” she says. I’m hoping she remembers that no part of the password can be used in the clue. “Dentist!” I guess. She just gives me a hateful look for my stupidity.

Now, something you have to know about my Sarah: she has a HEAVY southern accent. I mean, it’s absolutely adorable and very charming, but sometimes hard to understand. So the next clue was a tough one. “Jaw” she says, or so I thought. “Jaw??” I repeat. “No, jaaaawwwww!” she says slowly, so I can understand. I look at my husband, puzzled. She says, “You know, like glass, like for pickles?”. He laughs and says, “Oh, JAR!” She drops the last letter and has this easy southern sound more like “jah”. I laugh and guess “toothpaste”. She gets all excited and says, “Yes!!!” only to be disappointed when I explain to her she can’t give “tooth” as a clue for that and this point won’t count.

Matthew gives his Daddy clues. He looks at his card, smiles, sits back and says: “Pick”. Dad looks puzzled and says, “Nose?”. If a look could say:“You ignorant fool!” this was it. He gives more clues: any, card. My husband gives up. “Daddy, this is so easy!” he laughs as he reveals the card. “Ransom”. We ask what ransom means. “Oh, you know, like just picking anything, just out of nowhere?” he explains knowingly. “You mean random?” I say. “Yeah yeah! That!”. Another point lost. Now my husband and I are laughing and saying “You are so gonna lose!”, knowing that, in all reality, we both will!

Sarah gets our next clue and goes to the living room with Matthew to discuss meaning. I hear from the next room, “Oh yeah, ok, I got it!”. I think maybe this time we will win! She proceeds to give me clues like “red, steam, bull and face”. I’m flabbergasted. “Matador?” I ask. “Mommy, is that even a word!?” she argues. Silly me. The big reveal comes: adhesive. What, exactly, did they think this one was you ask? “Aggressive”. She had a cartoonish picture of a steaming, red, angry face to illustrate aggression. Sadly, adhesive has nothing to do with that! I explain and we end up with Matthew and Daddy winning with some easy passwords and laughing our butts off after they went to bed.

Well, maybe their vocabulary list isn’t what it should be! I try to encourage them! I read “The Telltale Heart” with Matthew, had a fantastic discussion about it last week, and thought some of that soaked in! Sarah is great with numbers. That counts for something, right?

I guess we need to crack open a dictionary more often and maybe try “Password Jr.” next time! I still think they are super intelligent, even if they don’t know what adhesive is, and no one can tell me any different!

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Have you ever had a day when you left the house and thought: “Man, I look good today!”? I have. Mind you, I don’t have them often. I’m usually pleased to just be dressed in clothes that aren’t horribly stained and have enough makeup on to resemble a human being. I just happened to be running errands one day recently and left the kids at home with my husband. I don’t usually go out solo, so I decided to take a few extra seconds while getting ready. Realize, I was going to get my nails done and the oil changed, but I’ll get dressed up for just about anything. Not to mention I’ve been working out more these days so I like to take the opportunity to show off any new muscle gains! (Don’t laugh)

Anyways, I set out to run my errands and noticed myself in the mirror thinking, “Well, you don’t look half bad today!”. I guess my ego was in full effect and only one thing can happen in these situations. That’s right, the real world comes along and cuts your inflated behind back down to size!

I go to the Lube place and the technician is nothing but helpful. He found a nail in my tire I didn’t even know was there and fixed it! He offered me coffee, smiled, joked, and let me in on a great deal they had going for a new set of tires. Wow, I thought, guys will do anything for a nice looking girl! He even finished my oil change and tire repair in record time and I left there smiling. So far, so good, right?

I go to have my nails done. My nail girl is going on and on about how young I look, God bless her. She’s amazed that I have 4 kids! She does a wonderful job on my nails and I decide to go ahead and get the eyebrow waxing I’ve been putting off.

I have to wax my stupid eyebrows constantly. I’m borderline obsessive about it, actually. It seems I inheirited the “Hairy Bear” gene from my father. That man looks like he’s wearing a sweater when he’s shirtless. I guess I’m glad I’m not that bad!

Anyways, I go back to the waxing area. There’s a young, Asian man in charge today.

“You have eyebrows waxed today?” he says

“Sure!” I smile

“You have lip waxed too?” he asks

“Umm, sure, why not?” I say hesitantly. (Note: I have that done occasionally, as needed! I do not have some full on mustache!)

He looks me over, turning my face to different angles then say: “You have whole face waxed?”

“Whole face?? What exactly does that mean?” I inquire

“You have lots of hair: here, here, here and here,” he says, pointing out my many, apparently, flaws.

I say no thank you and go ahead with the eyebrow/lip wax and leave a much less confident person than before. My entire face? Really? I knew I had a little “fuzz” but come on! Who doesn’t?! I guess I am my father’s child after all. Part Sasquatch.

Yep, that brought me back down to Earth quick. I strutted a little less, figured that people being nice to me was no more than that and called my husband a broken woman. He found it hilarious, by the way, but I decided to tackle it with Nair. Problem solved…for now.

In conclusion, we have a saying around. “Bless their heart”. You can safely say anything mean or cruel about a person as long as it’s followed with “Bless their heart”. For example: “Susan really is a nice girl, but she is dumb as a rock! Bless her heart”. I have a felling there were plenty of “Bless her heart’s” spoken for me that day.

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I had no idea what to write today but felt the need to clear my head. I was listening to itunes and the Alanis Morissette version of Seal’s “Crazy” came on. I think I need to make this my theme song. Let’s be honest, we all have stress in our lives, some of us more than others. I tend to let it get the better of me, which is actually why I created my blog, (so I apologize for all the rants!). Anyways, I think everyone relaxes in their own way, but me personally, I like to just freak out a little.

Give me a minute to explain before you have me committed, I don’t mean I’m going nuts with an ax or anything. I just like to have my moment where I can turn the radio up really loud, roll the window down and drive alone down the numerous country roads we have here. Isn’t it odd how during the day all I want is a moment of peace and quiet amidst the screaming and yelling of the kids but when I need to unwind on my own, all I want to do is have loud noise?

Yesterday was a de-stress day if I ever had one. My husband has been stressed out at work for a month or so, which in turn, leaves me worried and nervous. I guess my being keyed up has rubbed off on the kids becasue they decided to just go nuts. If it wasn’t smearing their food all over the kitchen at meals, it was the screaming death matches, seeing how many times they can leave fake “poo” on the floor and have me panic, how deep they could dig in my patio citrus trees we had just potted, etc. By the time my husband made it home I was just this side of a twitching, stuttering mess.

Thankfully, he just said, “Go”, meaning “Do whatever it is you need to do to unwind”, so I grabbed the keys. I jumped in the truck, rolled the window down, cranked the radio up and sang as loudly as I could. I drove around, called my best friend and planned our weekend, and just breathed for a second. It was so calming and wonderful.

Afterwards, I went to my garage/gym (well, it has my treadmill, weights, and a radio: it counts) turned on my motivational music, and worked out for a while. I love the after workout rush! That feeling like you could just run out a conquer the world or something. It was fantastic.

So folks, I guess I won’t be confined to the straight jacket and padded room just yet. I think I survived another day, barely. In closing, maybe you too can take a little comfort in these lyrics:

“But we’re never gonna survive, unless…
We get a little crazy
No we’re never gonna survive, unless…
We are a little… crazy”

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Folks, I am SO SICK! Almost the entire family has caught some sort of cooties and I think I ended up with the worst of it!

Sarah was the first in our group to get it. She had a day of headaches, upset tummy, coughing, and 1 throw up incident. Then she was “all better”
The next victim was Olivia. Luckily the Tinkerbell didn’t get tummy aches, but she was sleepy and out of it for 2 days.

Then this foul disease hit me. I don’t think I’ve been this sick in a LONG time. I have coughed until I have no voice left, blown gallons of grossness from my nose, and had not a decent nights sleep in days. My face is puffy and sore, my entire body aches from the giant sneezes and coughs, and the medicine I’m taking is only drying the sinuses out, causing it to burn and hurt!

The bad thing is, I don’t get sick days. I still have to clean up, take care of kids, and make sure they eat. My husband cooked dinner last night, which I appreciate, but left an enormous mess I had to deal with. It took every ounce of strength I had to load the dishwasher and sweep!

I have to make a run to the grocery store tonight, but after that, I’m taking the “P.M.” version of my cold medicine, and hitting the bed! I have to kick the sick, right now!!!

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