The Games Kids Play

When my kids are getting along, you can rest assured it's because they're coming up with stupid things to do together.

While getting ready to move, I’ve been ruthless in my decluttering efforts. I’ve tossed garbage, set aside outgrown clothes and other items for a garage sale, and boxed up those things we want to keep, but don’t need for the next few months. I stacked the boxes and several pieces of superfluous furniture in the garage. No problem, right? All neat and organized, boxed up, and out of the way, just ready for moving day. Except for the fact that I have six children who like to destroy things.


Yesterday it was 80-something here and the kids played outside all day. At one point, I took a break from packing, plopped my butt down in a lawn chair, and watched my kids come up with stupid ideas that were sure to end in broken bones games to play with each other.  They played games like Let’s Break These Thick Foam Insulation Boards With Our Heads Until We Pass Out, and Dunk The Baby In The Basketball Hoop, and Hey, Lightbulbs Make A Cool Sound When You Whip Them On The Ground.  At some point during my ulcer-inducing nice, relaxing break, I noticed that the rows of neatly stacked boxes in my garage had been scattered about all over the place.  There was water on the floor of the garage.  Items had been taken out of boxes and were haphazardly thrown here and there.  After my head exploded, I decided to order a pod so I could lock my kids in it.  Did I say that out loud?  I meant, so I could safely store my belongings while I’m showing my house.

So the guy who came to drop off the pod looked like Chris Rock.  That actually has nothing to do with my story.  But it did make me think of a zebra saying, “cracka-lackin” every time I looked at him.  Anyway, I asked him if he could put the pod on my driveway alongside my house.  He looked at it, made a face as if he was weighing whether or not that was possible, and finally said he’d give it a try.

So, he backed up the truck and stopped on my driveway exactly where I wanted the pod dropped off.  He hopped down from the truck to take a look at the placement.  I clapped and said, “Yay, you did it!”

He furrowed his brow, looked at me, and said, “I wasn’t worried about backing up, but I need a lot more room on either side of the truck to unload the pod.”

I felt like an idiot.  I laughed nervously and said, “Ohhhh.  Heh heh, it takes me twenty minutes to back my van into a parking space, so I was impressed with the whole backing the truck up the long driveway thing.”  Then I stepped back out of the way and shut my mouth.

The driver pushed a button and lo and behold, his truck was a transformer!  It turned into a giant mechanical spider-like thing.

The giant spider carefully lifted the pod off the truck, gently placed it on my driveway, then took a walk around the neighborhood, crushing cars and pedestrians in its path.  Okay, that last part was a lie.  It turned into a helicopter and flew off.  It was very cool.
Now I have to load up the pod and make sure all the loud, obnoxious toys accidentally fall out during the move.  It’s not as easy as it sounds.

Sunday Sound Out

From Chicago, the town that, the town that, the town... Waaaaaahhhhhh! Sniff sniff. I just realized I'm only going to have a few more of these before I have to start writing, "From Orlando!" Anyway, it's your host, the woman who painted her kitchen and even got a little paint on the walls, Dawn Damalas Meehan!

And now for answers to this week's questions.

I got a lot of comments like these - YAY! I am so happy you will be in Florida. You are gonna love it, I dont actually live in FL, I live in TX. But the weather is the same. Now...you do understand its very very hot and high in humidity? Cause I dont wanna hear no complaining, bc you sure did hate the snow :-)

Already mentioned above the heat and humidity, but the BUGS are HUGE!!! Seriously so big. My aunt lives in Gainesville...home of the Florida Gators and it was creepy visiting there with all the bugs, and also ALWAYS thinking there was a gator in the pool. However VERY cool for you.

What? No one mentioned hurricanes? It's supposed to go like this. "That's fabulous that you're moving to Florida. How wonderful. And I'm sure the heat, humidity, ginormous bugs, and hurricanes won't be that bad, dear."

I'm so happy for you that you have job lined up already! Is this something that a reader helped you with?
One of my best friends from high school mentioned that she knew of a job down there that would be perfect for me. It worked out well!

beware the kids may want to bring in the lizards they find on the backyard. mine 3 try to all the time and have named them "buddy".
They might want to? Uh yeah, Jackson spent every spare minute in Florida doing just that.


I am so happy for you for your job!!! That's awesome. What will you be teaching? Have you taught (other than your own kids) before?
It's not a teaching position, but I will be working with kids who need a little extra help and encouragement.

So happy to hear the news of the new job!! Hopefully the older kids do understand it's for the better in the long run :)
Austin's the only one who isn't thrilled about moving and it's just because he doesn't want to leave his girlfriend. I understand. It stinks. I don't blame him one little bit. I would've been MAD if I'd had to leave my boyfriend and switch schools before my junior year. But, he's been absolutely awesome about it! I couldn't be more proud. We talked and he told me that he wasn't mad at me for making him move; he understands why we're moving. He's upset, but he's being really mature about it. The other kids are pretty excited about the move.

Does Brooklyn start school (kindergarten) next school year?
Yep! And there's all-day kindergarten where I'm moving. She'd only go half a day here and I'd have to arrange day care for her so I could work. Another plus for moving to Florida.

Dawn, you have done an amazing job! I know you got rid of a lot of stuff, but did you put some in storage, too?
I was ruthless in throwing out junk and boxing up stuff for a garage sale. Whatever doesn't sell is getting donated to Wings. And yes, I did pack up a few boxes of things we want to keep, but won't be needing in the next few months.

Where on earth are you going to keep the kids so it doesn't revert? I rented a Pod for them.

What about your room, Dawn? You've never shown us pictures of that
My room is in desperate need of paint first.

Was Clay's nose broken?
I'm not sure. I didn't take him to the hospital. Since I took Jackson there for a broken nose a few months ago, I learned they don't do anything unless it's grossly misshapen and in his case it isn't. It's swollen and bruised. He can't breathe out of one side very well because of the swelling, but it really doesn't look too bad.

That’s Lexi? How can you tell her & Brooklyn’s baby photos apart?
I have to look at background clues to figure out who's who in baby pictures because they all looked a lot alike as babies. But Lexi has crossed eyes in a lot of her baby pictures. I thought it was just a stupid human trick she did. I mean, she'd passed the vision tests at preschool. But I opted to take her to an eye doctor "just to be sure" when she was five. Turns out she couldn't see and needed glasses. I had no idea. So here's a public service announcement: take your kids to an eye doctor because those school vision screenings do NOT catch everything.

You can my most recent post over at Babble here!

Now I have a date with some bubble wrap. Have a great week and remember, hugging's very different from leaning. Hugging involves arms and hands; and leaning is whole bodies moving in. Leaning involves wanting... and accepting. Leaning. . .

House For Sale

I cannot believe how much time it takes to pack and declutter and paint and clean everything. It's especially time consuming when I'm spending several hours every Saturday and a couple hours most nights at hockey, softball, and baseball practice. But I'm getting there. I'm hoping to have the rest of it finished by next weekend.

Doesn't this look like a house you'd want to buy? Doesn't it make you want to move to Chicagoland just so you can get my house? Seriously, does it look nice? I haven't gone house-shopping for nineteen years so I'm not sure how this compares to other homes. And since this is my house, I don't think I'm objective, but I think it will show well. What do you think?

The Boys' Room

The Girls' Room

Bathroom One

Bathroom Two

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

The number one question people ask me is, “How do you do it?”  That question is closely followed by, “Are you crazy?” and oftentimes, “Is that your son holding a squirrel by its tail?”  People want to know what it’s like to raise six kids, especially now that I’m a single mom.  Well, I’ll tell you how I do it.  Rum.  Lots and lots of rum.  Kidding, just kidding.  Mostly kidding.  Actually, my number one, most important ingredient for raising kids is humor.  You need to realize that kids are goofy and you must have a sense of humor about said goofiness.

Kids do crazy things.  I bet if you took an honest look at your childhood, you’d admit that you did crazy things back in the day as well.  Kids are a little nuts.  It’s how they’re supposed to be.  Once you wrap your brain around the fact that kids are kids (and therefore nuts); and not smaller versions of rational adults, you’re halfway there. 
If you expect children to know everything you know, and behave in ways that make sense, and do things like blow their noses on tissues instead of their shirt sleeves, you’re going to be disappointed and frustrated.  If, on the other hand, you understand that kids are goofy, and they simply don’t know everything you know, and it’s your job to teach them those things, then hooray, you’re ready to be a parent.
I learned a long time ago that children’s brains only hold so much information.  I mean, they have important stuff stored in their noggins; stuff like the names of all the Pokemon in the universe, lines to every SpongeBob episode ever made, the exact ratio of dirt, soap, toothpaste, and water and to make really cool squishy goo.  They can’t be expected to remember that markers are for paper only, or that they need to hang up their coats after school, or make their beds every morning.  Teens’ brains are so filled with texting abbreviations that they can’t possibly remember to take out the garbage or replace the empty roll of toilet paper with a new one.
This is why it’s important to focus on the important stuff – don’t lie, don’t steal, treat others the way you want to be treated, use manners, be polite, don’t wake mom up before 9:00 on Saturday.  And this is why it’s okay to let the little stuff slide.  Because it’s little stuff.  When a kid does some goofy kid thing, ask yourself, “Is this going to matter in a year?  Will I even remember it?  Is it really a big deal?”  Most of the time, those little things we flip out about fall into the No Big Deal category.  I’ll give you some examples. . .
When your toddler sticks an orange Tic Tac up his nose, it’s no big deal. Plug the other nostril and have him blow. Let him enjoy his orange flavored snot and next time buy Nerds; they’re smaller.

When your daughter colors her face like this, take a picture and send it to Stephen King as inspiration for a new novel. Maybe he’ll give you a cut of his royalties.

When your child does this to your TV, relax.  I promise you that one day in the future (and it’ll be here before you know it), you’ll spot that little drawing and it will make you smile.  Pinky swear!

When your son drops a plate and it explodes into 50 trillion pieces, just shout, “Opa!” and pour yourself a glass of wine.

When you find a sandwich that looks like this in your son’s bed, use it to treat your child’s next ear infection.

And when you find your baby happily playing in the toilet, just be thankful you don’t need to give her a bath tonight.

In other words, don’t sweat the small stuff (and most of it is small stuff in the whole scheme of things).  Focus on what’s important and don’t stress over the little things that pass by in the blink of an eye.

The Wicker's Gotta Go!

I begged my friend, Eric to come with me to Home Depot today. I hate that store. The huge ceilings and aisles of foreign looking stuff make me hyperventilate. It smells like guy stuff. And did you know, they don’t sell any shoes or makeup in the entire store?! But I bit the bullet and went because apparently, when you sell your house, you need to fix all those little annoying things that weren’t important enough to fix while you were living there. But for the complete strangers who are going to move in – well, it’s important to have things “just so” for them.  The thing is, it’s hard to move out of ‘What Would I Like In My House’ mode and move into ‘How Can I Make It Look Nice As Quickly And Inexpensively As Possible” mode.


I replaced the ceiling fan that was above my dining room table. It was dark brown and had snazzy wicker inserts in the blades. It was lovely. But since it’s no longer 1970 and I don’t have a macrame owl, or a giant spoon and fork hung on the wall to complement it, I figured it should be replaced. Plus, two of the glass globes were broken because my kids never saw that episode of The Brady Bunch where mom always says, “Don’t play ball in the house.”  Now, I have a nice little white fan/light that blends in and looks really nice. I mean the new people who get my house have a nice little white fan/light that blends in and looks really nice.

I got a couple new floor register vent thingies. That’s what they’re called. Really. Go look at the label on the shelf at Home Depot. I don’t make this stuff up. Okay, yeah, I do. I have no idea what they’re called, but you know what I’m talking about. My old ones were nasty, rust colored metal with God only knows what encrusted on them. The new ones are fresh and clean and white.  I got a new glass plate thingy to hang over the bare lightbulbs in Austin’s room.  His old one broke years ago.  Yep, I’m right on top of these little maintenance projects.

Everytime a door broke in the house, my ex replaced it with a nice, white, six panel door, however there are still a couple old, plain, brown, original, circa 1950 doors left in the house.  I got new white six panel replacements so everything looks uniform.  I’m going to love the way the news doors look!  I mean, the new people will like the new doors.

I need to put a fresh coat of paint on every surface of the house because I don’t think the new owners want to see my kids’ artistic drawings displayed on their walls or the dirty little footprints on the ceiling (don’t ask). So we stopped by the paint department to look around. This is how the conversation went.

The nice lady at Home Depot asked, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m selling my house and I just want a buttload of your cheapest paint so my house will look nice and clean and neutral.”
Then Eric asked her, “Do you have five gallon buckets of antique white?”

She answered while walking down the aisle, “No, not antique white.  But we do have five gallon buckets of paint here.  It’s ceiling paint, but you can get it in any sheen and use it on the walls.”  She indicated the buckets of paint stacked down the aisle.
Eric wasn’t sure about the color.  “But that’s going to be really white-white,” he protested.

I interjected.  “Who cares?  It’s not my house, remember?  I’m selling it.”

Getting back to ‘Help My Friend Sell Her House’ mode, he asked me, “Okay, where do you want to paint?”

“The kitchen/dining area, the hallways and the ceilings throughout the house.”

“How about your bedroom?” he reminded me.

“Oh gosh yes!  I forgot about that.  I definitely need to paint my bedroom and the family room.  I was thinking maybe a nice tan.  Kinda like what I just put in the bathroom, but not quite that dark.  And I don’t want to use flat paint because it’s not scrubbable.  I’d rather it be so glossy that the light reflects off it and blinds you.  That way I can wash the potato people drawings off the wall.”
Eric raised an eyebrow.  “I thought you didn’t care because it’s not your house.”

Pouting because I hate being wrong, I said dejectedly, “Oh yeah.”  Then to the Home Depot lady, ” A five gallon bucket of plain ole white, please.”

It’s really hard to remember that everything I do to improve my house is for another family’s benefit now.  I mean, it could help me to possibly sell my house more quickly, but in the end, it’s not for me; it’s for someone else.  Someone who will probably come in and take out my new ceiling fan because it doesn’t go with their wicker dining room set.  Someone who will probably paint over every wall in the house.  Someone who will mark their own growth chart on the back of the door.  It’s a weird feeling knowing you’re going to be leaving the house you’ve lived in for nineteen years.  The only house your kids have ever known.

On the bright side, I don’t think I need to go back to the hardware store!  The only thing I forgot while I was there, was a shower curtain rod to replace the one my kids somehow managed to pull down.  But thankfully I can get that at Target tomorrow (along with makeup and shoes, I might add).

It's Another Edition of I Spy

Otherwise entitled, Why is the Play Doh hairy?

I've been cleaning my house in preparation for moving. I've gotten the boys' room spotless. I've gotten the bathrooms decluttered and cleaned. Apparently I have ADD because I keep getting distracted every time I start working on another room. Every other room in the house is half-done. This week, I'll finish cleaning and decluttering every other room. That's the plan anyway.

Yesterday, I took out the entertainment center. By "I took out the entertainment center", of course I mean that I stood there, telling everyone what do and complaining when they didn't do it the right way while Austin, Savannah and my friend Eric took it apart and moved it out of the house. This piece of furniture is 100 inches long X 75 inches tall X 20 deep. Obviously it's not something that can be moved away from the wall in order to clean behind it. This is what I found. . .

CONTINUE READING HERE!

With Great Responsibility, Comes Great Joy

Yesterday, I had a little breakdown. The responsibility of raising my six kids, taking care of the house, writing articles, paying bills, driving here and there, attending sports practice, making dinner, and now packing and getting ready to move on top of everything else just got to me. I broke down crying and repeatedly said, "I can't do it all. I just can't do it. I can't do everything. No matter how hard I try, I just can't do it." I felt hopeless. I felt like I was drowning. I felt like I would never ever get caught up and have everything taken care of when it needed to be taken care of.

My little breakdown continued this morning. I have so unbelievably much to do. So much so, in fact, that I didn't know where to start. I just looked around at the empty boxes and the piles of belongings to be packed. I glanced at my long "to do" lists. I gazed, completely devoid of emotion at the stack of papers on my desk. Then I lay down with Brooklyn to watch a movie. Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed, I just shut down. I don't know where to start, so I don't do anything.

I'm happy to say that after 24 hours of a lovely little pity party, I picked myself up, did some cleaning, and made a dent in my "to do" list. I always feel weak when I break down and feel sorry for myself. I hate feeling like that. There's no reason for it. I'm stronger than that. I have too many blessings and good things in my life to wallow in self pity. But despite that, now and then, I do lose control and cry. I have a very hard time remembering that it's okay to feel overwhelmed and it's okay to cry sometimes.

When I look back on different situations in my life and see how they worked out so well despite my tears, aggravation, frustration and fear that things would never turn around, I feel foolish. I love being able to look back and see how God knits everything together for good. I think that's how I keep going and how I can enjoy my kids without stressing out too much over the little things. Because I know, those little things just don't matter in the long run.

This is what I wrote over at Babble today. . .


I’m raising my six children without any help from their father.  That’s not the way I wanted it when we were going through the divorce process.  In fact, the first thing I said to my lawyer is that I wanted my soon-to-be ex involved in the kids lives as much as possible.   But, unfortunately, he couldn’t deal with everything and chose to remove himself entirely.  

Although it’s hard and demanding and takes every minute of every day and then some, I wouldn’t trade places with him for all the money in the world.  At the end of the day, I can look myself in the mirror and (aside from the wrinkles and bags under my eyes) like what I see.  I can go to bed confident in the knowledge that I’m doing everything I can for my family. And not only am I doing the right thing, but I love being a mom. It’s my dream job! It’s my favorite thing in the world! I couldn’t even begin to fathom walking away from it!


My kids’ father showed up for Lexi’s softball practice on Saturday.  Well, for about half an hour of practice anyway.  I can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen any of my kids in the last year and a half (other than the few times he ran into them while he was still working for the school district).  And yet there he was without a care in the world, acting like nothing was amiss; the distant uncle who stops by when he’s in town and says “hi” and then leaves.  No responsibilities.  Just a moment of fun with the kids a couple times a year.  And really, it’s not even “the kids”.  It’s Lexi and Brooklyn and rarely Clayton.  The older three want nothing to do with him.

I bite my tongue and grit my teeth for my kids’ sake, but I can’t even bring myself to look at his selfish face.  The fake niceties from him make me want to throw up.  The fact that he owes me about $8000 in child support and yet shows off the tattoo he just got makes me shake my head in amazement. But beyond the anger and disbelief in his actions, is a degree of pity. I mostly feel sorry for him because he’s the one missing out. He’s the one choosing the lonely path that leads to wasted years and regret.

In a way, it makes me thankful that I’m on my own with my kids.  I mean, it would have been nice if my ex hadn’t gone off the deep end and we were able to effectively coparent, but since that isn’t an option, I’m kind of glad I don’t really have to deal with him.  I can only imagine how difficult it must be to coparent with a less-than-cooperative ex-spouse.  In that way, even though I don’t get a break and all the responsibility is on my shoulders, I have it much easier than those divorced parents who have to manage to get along with each other even though they couldn’t get along in marriage.

So, I’ll be the one arranging to get everyone to practice and I’ll be the one outside in the stinking cold for five and a half hours, watching them and cheering them on.  I’ll be the one buying all their equipment and taking them to the ER when they break an arm (just thinking ahead.  I mean, it’s bound to happen sooner or later.).  I’ll be the one paying their regsitration fees and pitching in for the coach’s gift.  I’ll be the one consoling them when they lose a game and I’ll be the one taking them out for ice cream to celebrate a job well done. 

I’ll be the one enjoying every minute of their lives.  :)

And guess what!  I’ll be the one they thank when they win the Superbowl, World Series, Olympics (again, just thinking ahead here).

Sunday Sound Out

From Chicago, where the Cubs actually won a game, it's your host, the woman who found a pistachio behind the TV (It's been ten years since I've had pistachios in the house. Yeah.), Dawn Damalas Meehan!

Okay, about 50,000 of you have asked me something along these lines - I must have missed something. I thought you were not moving b/c of the housing market being so bad and the loan and what it would sell for didn't match up? Did that change and I missed that post?

I never said I wasn't moving. I said, "Because the economy sucks and the housing market sucks and life sucks, I'm not going to be able to sell my house since I owe more than what it will sell for. Not to mention the fact that houses are on the market for a good year or more around here. My options are limited now and it just sucks."

It doesn't look too promising that I'll be able to sell, but unfortunately that has precious little to do with the fact that I still have to move someplace cheaper. I'm talking to experts about my options - try to sell, rent my house, short sale, deed in lieu of foreclosure, foreclosure, etc. But in the end, yes, we're moving this summer.

I can barely squeak by with child support, but there's no way I can continue living here without it. I'm not counting on my ex to stand up, get a job, and help support his children. (In fact, he told me yesterday that he's had TWO whole interviews since losing his job mid-January. I know, right! Impressive!) Anyway, I'm not waiting around for him.

I was offered a job at a middle school in Orange County, FL that I've excitedly accepted. I'll have a steady paycheck as well as health insurance, and the same hours as my kids. I'm happy to leave winter behind! It looks like I'll be able to cut my housing costs in half by moving there. There are many, many benefits of moving to Florida and no drawbacks that I can see (other than the drawbacks of moving in general which just can't be avoided). I already had it put into my divorce agreement that I can move the kids out of state because I just knew something like this would happen. I remember telling my lawyer a year ago that I was sure he would stop working and abandon the kids. I guess you really get to know someone after living with them for nearly twenty years, huh?

The kids are actually excited about the move. I know all that might change after the novelty wears off and they start missing their friends, but for now, they're looking forward to it. Well, all the kids except Austin, that is. He understandably doesn't want to leave his girlfriend.

So, there ya go. I hope that clears up any confusion.

The surprise with which they greet a daily announcement is starting to get to me. Why is “Make your bed!” (repeated each and every morning) always a brand new concept?
My theory is that they believe we're old and inept. They keep thinking that maybe today will be the day that we lose our minds and forget to tell them to make their beds, brush their teeth, hang up their coats, etc. When we don't, in fact, forget, they're flabbergasted that we've maintained our sanity for yet another day. Either that, or like Bill Cosby says, children are brain damaged.

It looks great! But how long will the boys keep it looking that way?
If they value their lives, they'll keep it that way until we move. Oh, who am I kidding? I doubt it'll last a week.

What did you do with the IKEA shelving unit?
I shoved it in the dishwasher until we move.

Wait a minute! I just realized something. You have THREE boys. Where does boy #3 sleep? And did you buy new comforters and valances? And hang them yourself? I wouldn't have the first idea how to do that. Very impressive!!!
Austin has his own room. I haven't set foot in there to clear out clutter yet, but his room is usually pretty neat and clean so it should only take an hour or so. They've had the comforters for many years. What, you couldn't spot them in the "before" pictures??? They had the valances too, but they were removed years ago when we replaced the windows and they were never hung back up. With Savannah's help, I was able to drill holes and install the hardware to hang them. In case I haven't mentioned it lately, I HATE doing stuff like that! I could live happily without ever touching another power tool. Ever.

why is he [Austin] wearing a ring on a significant finger?
Yes, my sixteen-year-old got married and is wearing a dollar bill wrapped around his finger as a ring. All the elite, famous celebrities are doing that these days. William and Kate will be doing it too. Except they'll be exchanging British pound rings instead of American dollars. You know, because they're English and all.

where exactly in the minivan did that swedish fish land? was it really wasted?
It didn't even make it in the window! I love Swedish fish, but I wasn't about to create a traffic jam so I could stop my van, get out, and search the pavement for a piece of candy.

Have a great week filled with fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, and miracles!

Flying Fish

Tonight, I was sitting on the couch, reading a backlog of email, and wondering why we never have any chocolate in the house. I jokingly told Austin, “Go to 7-11 and get me some chocolate.”

Now, Austin doesn’t drive and I didn’t really expect to him to walk to 7-11 or anything. I was joking and I’m pretty sure he knew it.
Still, he hopped up, grabbed his shoes and said he’d run to the store. I told him, “I was just kidding, but if you want something, I’ll drive and you can grab me some chocolate too.”

I got my shoes and keys and started out the door when he ran past me.

“Austin, I said I’d drive!” I called after him. “Get in the car!”

But he was already a block away. I hopped in the car and drove toward the store. As I passed Austin, I rolled down my window and called, “Really, Austin? Get in the car!”

He insisted he wanted to run. Okay then. I drove on to the store. I got to 7-11, grabbed a pack of peanut butter cups and a Coke Zero (to balance out the Reese’s, of course) and put my items on the counter. The cashier asked me if I was ready to check out.

“Uh no. No, I’m um, waiting for my son. He’s jogging here.”
The cashier stared at me, not fully understanding what I was saying.

“He thought I wanted him to run. But I was kidding. Um, he wanted to jog. I was too lazy to jog. I drove.”

He continued to look at me, wondering just how drunk I was.

“Um, I’ll just wait, thanks.”

I stood there playing Words With Friends on my phone while waiting for Austin. The cashier kept looking at me, wondering if he should call the police, as he stocked shelves. Finally, Austin came through the door.

“Nice, Mom!” he said. “You tell me to go to the store for you so I do and then you fly by me in the car!”

“Whaaat? I told you, but you said you, but I said, I tried to get you in the car!” I sputtered.

He smirked a little. Punk.

“Do you want anything?” I asked. He grabbed a snack and we went to pay for our purchases. As the cashier rung up my health food, Austin piped up and said, “This is separate.”

“No, it’s not,” I insisted. “I’ll pay for your stuff, Austin.”

He refused. What kind of teenager refuses money from their parent??? But Austin has always been super-conscious of money. He knows we’re moving because I need to cut my housing costs and he would never ask for a thing from me. I glanced up at my son, mixed emotions playing through my head when he leaned forward and put some money in a jar marked “Japanese Relief Fund”. I just love that kid. I’m so proud of him for so many reasons.

We walked out of the store and he insisted he wanted to jog home. I sighed.

“Fine, Austin. I’ll see you at home.”

As I passed Austin, on the way home, he whipped a Swedish fish at the open window of my van. And in that moment, I realized he’s not quite as smart and awesome as I thought. I mean, hello? He just wasted a perfectly good, red, chewy glob of deliciousness by throwing it at my van!

"AFTER"

Tada! I still need to do a little patching and painting, but THIS doesn't look like a house with six kids living in it, does it?

"BEFORE"

I've decided that this will be my first move AND my last move. Going through and packing up seven people's belongings is a lot of work! I am rocking on this packing thing though! I keep forgetting to take before and after pictures of each room so you can see the difference. I remembered to take pictures while working on the boys' room though.

This was the state of the boys' room yesterday. Warning: The following pictures are intended for mature audiences only. Some viewers may find the following scenes disturbing. This is not for the squeamish or faint of heart.

Tomorrow, I'll post the "after" pictures. You won't believe it's the same room! I still can't believe it!

It's Bedtime Already?!

I’ve been cleaning and packing like a crazy woman lately. Today, I tackled the boys’ room. Well, I started on the boy’s room anyway. This is going to be a twenty-seven day project, at least. Because I got stuck cleaning the cesspool that is the boys’ room, I lost track of time and before I knew it, it was bedtime. I tried to stand up, but after sitting on the floor for over an hour, my knees yelled at me and refused to bend. I called my teenage son to help pull me up off the floor. He told me I was old. I told him he was grounded. It’s what we do. 


My old-lady, creaky knees carried me out to the family room where I announced it was bedtime for my youngest three.  I was met with utter incredulity.

“What?!  It’s only 8:00!  Why do we have to go to bed?”

“Seriously?  Why do you always act so surprised when I tell you to go to bed?  I’ve told you to go to bed at 8:00 for like the last nine years!” I said, exasperated.

“But Mom, it isn’t 8:00!  It’s only 7:58!” came their feeble attempts at stalling.

I stared at them with my best mom look.  You know, the one that says, You’d better get moving now or I’m going to shout idle threats at you.

They continued to sit there, disbelieving that I was actually going to send them to bed.  Sure, I’d been putting them to bed at 8:00 their entire lives, but maybe tonight would be the night I’d decide to let them stay up and drink pop and watch R rated movies all night.
“Go brush your teeth now!”

One by one, they slowly trudged toward the bathroom as if on death row, walking to their execution.  The only time they walk more slowly is when they make the trek from my car to the front door of their school each morning.

After brushing their teeth (and by “brushing their teeth”, I mean messing around in the bathroom, laughing hysterically, and making a concoction of lotion, shampoo, water, and toothpaste in the sink which they stirred with their brother’s toothbrush), I made them clean up their mess.  Then I expounded on my instructions.
“Brush your teeth.  With toothpaste.  AND a toothbrush.  For more than 10 seconds.  And don’t wipe your toothpastey mouths on the towels.  And rinse the globs of toothpaste down the sink when you’re done.  And put the cap back on the tube.  And rinse your toothbrushes.  And hang them up too!  Oh heck, here!” I said, thrusting Pep-O-Mint Lifesavers at them.  “Just have these and call it night.”

After I snuggled and cuddled and talked to and hugged and kissed my girls repeatedly, I walked toward the door of their bedroom. 

“Mom, don’t close the door, okay?”  came their request.  It’s the same thing they say every night.  Again, I’ve been leaving their door open since the beginning of time, but you just never know when (what with me being so old and all) I’ll go senile and forget and *gasp* close the door.

Then I walked into the boys’ room to tuck in my youngest son, but he wasn’t in bed.  He was hiding.  Like he does every single night. 
“Where, oh where could Clayton be?” I asked, knowing full well, he was hiding in the corner of his room.

He jumped out, I clutched my chest and staggered back a bit, doing my nightly “fake heart attack” routine, and then I snuggled and cuddled and talked to and hugged and kissed my youngest son.
I love bedtime (and not just because it means I get some quiet time to myself).  I love it because it’s a great time to connect with your kids and share some special moments you’ll always remember.  It’s because I know this time literally flies by!  I mean, if I were to try to snuggle or have a tickle fight with my teens, they’d surely think I’d lost my mind, so I try to enjoy every last fun, frustrating, happy, crazy moment I can.