Well, that was really crappy of Moon? and the llama?

Peanut, apropos of absolutely nothing:  And then, he was done with what he was doing and he said he was going to do it and HE DIDN'T!
Me:  Wha, huh?
Peanut:  The llama.
Me:  The, llama?
Peanut:  Yes!  Exactly.  And he didn't.
Me:  Could you possibly stop and explain to me exactly what the hell you are talking about?
Peanut:  The llama.  Moon said he would and he finished what he was doing and he still didn't.
Me:  ???
Peanut, completely disgusted:  Nevermind.

Things are better than they used to be

D. is gone for about eleven hours a day. Sometimes twelve or thirteen, but mostly eleven. He doesn't travel all that much anymore. He used to be gone for two or three days every week, sometimes more. But now it averages less than two days a month. Things are better than they used to be.

Dinnertime tonight was the same as last night, but shittier because I made Peanut cry. He sits next to me at the table and he has a chewing problem. The problem being that he shovels food in like he hasn't eaten all day and then chews with his mouth open. And he sits next to me. He's hungry. I understand. We eat dinner too late. The boys are starving by five o'clock and I really should feed them then. But that means I make dinner twice, or D. has to reheat a meal and eat alone every night. Neither situation seems like a winner to me. So, Peanut is starving by dinnertime. And he shovels food in. And chews with his mouth open. It makes me crazy, and tonight I yelled. I yelled. He cried. I am totally fucking this up.

Last night, D. and I talked about career. He offered praise and encouragement for the marketing work I'm doing. Told me I don't need the acknowledgement of being hired for a full-time job. That along with a steady paycheck and someone to tell you "nice work," being employed by someone else also comes with its downside (see first paragraph). Reminded me that self-employment is where it's at because I can set my own hours and take vacation when I want and do the work that I WANT to do and still pick the kids up from school every day. And I cried. Because picking the boys up from school every day and being alone with them for four to seven hours is exhausting. I love the crap out of them, but they're exhausting and I am tired. I'm tired of cleaning the same messes over and over, and wiping poopy butts, and not sleeping through the night even though my youngest child is almost three. And I'm tired of yelling.

I walk around the house whispering to myself, "it could be worse....it could be worse....it could be worse...." It could be worse. So much worse. Everyone's healthy. We have enough, everything. Food, clothing, shelter, wine. We have enough. D. is employed, I have awesome clients, we have a CABIN for pete's sake. A cabin. I have friends, both online and in real life. I even had a friend this week who just stopped by for margaritas. That never happens anymore, and it was so nice. D. and I have gone through some rough shit in the last year and a half, but I think we've come out better for it. We talk more. We COMMUNICATE more (though it's still a work in progress). He's a much more involved father. And frankly, less of a dick. I like him so much more when he's not a dick. We have so much to be thankful for. I have so much to be thankful for. And I am, I swear.

But this day-to-day? It's wearing me out. Things are better than they used to be. I'm just still so tired.

About twenty minutes. Only slightly condensed.

There are approximately seven hours between picking the boys up from school and them passing out at night. This represents about twenty minutes. I'm not great at math, but I think that equates to this basic series of events occurring 21 times, every....fucking....day....

Peanut: Mom. They keep saying the "s" word.
Me, in the kitchen making dinner: Who?
Peanut: This song.
Me: Oh. Yeah. Don't listen to that.
Peanut: Okay.
Henny, coming downstairs: Mommy, I pee in my pants.
Me: Why did you pee your pants.
Henny: I dunno.
Me: Let's get you cleaned up. Moon, can you get some new pants for Henny?
Moon, rolling eyes: Urghhhhhh!!!!
Me: I know. Just help out, okay?
Peanut: What's for dinner?
Me: Greek salad with chicken.
Peanut: I hate that.
Henny: I heet that!
Me: You do not.
Peanut, poking and hitting Moon: Moon, play with me. Play with me! PLAY WITH ME!
Moon: Ow! Mom, he hit me!
Me: Don't hit your brother.
Peanut: He won't play with me.
Me: Of course he won't. You're hitting him.
Peanut: I want him to play with me.
Me: Nobody wants to play with someone who's hitting. Be nice.
Peanut: I don't want to be nice. I want him to play with me.
Me, bending over: He's not going to play with you if you're hitting him. Moon! Can you get some pants for Henny?!
Henny, hopping on my back: Piggy wide!
Me, falling over: No. No piggy ride. Get off of me. Moon! Get Henny some pants, please!
Moon: Urghhhhh!!!
D, calling on the phone: Gurgle gurgle gurgle.
Me: What, I can't hear you. You're breaking up.
Henny: I wan talk a Dad. I wan a talk a Dad. Lemme talk a Dad.
D: Gurgle gurgle gurgle.
Henny: I wan talk a Dad. I need talk a Dad.
Me: I can't hear you at all.
D: Gurgle gurgle gurgle.
Henny: I need talk a Dad!
Me: I'm going to go.
Henny: I need talk a Dad!
D: Gurgle gurgle bye.
Me: Dinner's ready. Come and eat guys.
Henny: I heet that.
Me: You don't hate that.
Peanut: I don't want any salad. I hate salad.
Me: Don't eat salad.
Henny: I don't wan chicken. I heet chicken.
Me: Don't eat chicken.
Henny: I spilled.
Me: Okay. I'll clean it up. Let me grab a napkin.
Henny: I lick it?
Me: No. Do not lick the table.
Henny: I lick it.
Me: Please stop licking the table.
Henny: I need salad. I wan scoop it.
Me: I'll scoop it for you.
Henny: I wan scoop it. I need scoop it!
Me: No. Let me do it. Here, here's a scoop of salad for you.
Henny: No. I need more. I need scoop it.
Me: If you eat all that I'll give you another scoop.
Henny: No. I wan scoop it. I can't eat all dis. It's too much.
Me: That makes no sense.
Peanut: Can I have a dessert?
Me: I do not even care.
Henny: I wan ice cream!
Me: Have ice cream. I don't care.
Henny: Can I have more ice cream?
Me: Don't care. Hey, we need to go pick up Dad from the train. It's raining.
Henny: I don't wan pick Dad.
Me: It's raining. We need to pick up Dad.
Henny: Can I bring my ice cream?
Me: No.
Henny: Why? I wan bring my ice cream.
Me: You can't take ice cream in the car.
Henny: I bring my ice cream.
Me: You're not bringing your ice cream.
D: Hi! How are you?
Me: Eh.
D: What's wrong.
Me: Just. You know. They're just.
D: Dinner smells good.
Peanut, running around corner: NAKEDSTUFF!!! NAKEDSTUFF!!!
Me: Where. are. your. clothes?!?!

P-Eu Strikes again

I have this "friend." She is European. That probably has nothing to do with anything, but people have tried to assure me that she's not really rude, she's just "European" and somehow therefore has different standards for what makes one an asshole.

I've written about my friend, the Pushy-European (P-Eu) before. We have an almost three year history of her putting me in uncomfortable situations that violate my boundaries. I even succeeded in passive-aggressively breaking up with her shortly after Henny was born.

But, we live in a small town. And Peanut likes P-Eu Jr. And I had a shitty, shitty, really rough patch in my life last year which resulted in huge amounts of anxiety, introspection, and some major life changes. It's an ongoing process, that will hopefully result in me being better as a person and us being better as a family.

Somehow, somewhere in the midst of the super vulnerable time that was last year, P-Eu reappeared. And I let her. Because I was not in a place to turn down anyone's gesture of friendship. And because Peanut likes her son.

They've played a few times. Not as often as P-Eu would like, but at a level of frequency with which I feel comfortable. Having not seen each other for a few months, a playdate was planned for today. Peanut was invited to P-Eu's house after school. I agreed. Peanut was excited.

As we pulled up in the driveway, Mr. P-Eu emerged from the front door to greet his children. Who were at that very moment arriving home from school. With their teen male babysitter whom I have never met or heard of before. As Peanut scurried into the house to play with his friend, I asked Mr. P-Eu if I should call P-Eu in 30 minutes or so to see how the playdate was going. Mr. P-Eu told me not to bother, as P-Eu wouldn't be home and he, himself, would be in the attic working. But not to worry, because the babysitter was there. The teen male babysitter whom I had never met or heard of before, and whom nobody had informed me in advance would be watching my child. Have I mentioned that I absolutely do not allow male babysitters because someone I care for had a horrible childhood experience with a teen male babysitter?

I sat in my car for a few minutes, trying to figure out a polite way to say "Oh, Hell no, Mr. P-Eu!" I tried calling D. to see if I was overreacting. I started to drive away, trying to convince myself that it was fine, not wanting to disappoint my son who was already in the midst of playing with his friend. About 30 seconds away from P-Eu's house, feeling pissed off and vomity, my mom called.

I told her the situation. She said, "Oh Hell no. You go back and get him right now." And I did.

When I got there, Peanut and P-Eu Jr. were on the second floor, hanging out P-Eu Jr.'s open, screenless bedroom window. I'm glad I went back. I have to break up with P-Eu once and for all. And I need to learn to trust my instincts at all times. And to make my boundaries clear and insist that everyone in my life honors them.

For (once again) reminding me of those things, I am grateful to P-Eu.

I'm still totally breaking up with her.

Valid point

Me: You need to get your fanny in here right now and do the cleaning up I asked you to do.
Peanut: I don't even know what I'm supposed to clean up.
Me: All this food the dog got into.
Peanut: Um, it's kind of your fault this happened in the first place.
Me: I'm not the one who left my lunch on the table.
Peanut: Yeah, but the dog wouldn't have had a chance to make a mess if we wouldn't have left the house. So, that makes it your fault.
Me: It doesn't matter whose fault it is. It just matters that we get it cleaned up.
Peanut: Um, yeah. It kind of does. You know. So we know who to blame.

Oh, sorry

Laying in bed at night with Henny:
Henny: Da-ee has penis?
Me, shaking head yes.
Henny: Peanut has penis?
Me, shaking head yes.
Henny: Moon has penis?
Me, shaking head yes.
Henny: Mahwee has tail?
Me, shaking head yes.
Henny: Mommy has penis?
Me, shaking head no.
Henny: Mommy has boob?
Me, shaking head yes.
Henny: Da-ee has penis?
Me, shaking head yes.
Henny: Mahwee has tail?
Me, shaking head yes.
Henny: Peanut has penis?
Me, shaking head yes.
Henny: Moon has penis?
Me: Yes. Daddy has a penis, and Moon has a penis, and Peanut has a penis, and Molly has a tail, and Mommy has a boob.
Henny, whispering: Shh...quiet. I seeping, Mommy.

Really? Dad and I just call that "Tuesday"

Moon: Can I have a sleepover this weekend?
Me: No. But you can have one in two weeks.
Moon: Ok. Because I haven't had a sleepover since summer.
Me: That's not true.
Moon: Well, I've had K over twice, but I mean, I haven't had a GOOD sleepover. Where I go to someone else's house.
Me: So, you're saying it's not a good sleepover if it's at our house? I'm mildly offended by that.
Moon: Sorry, but it's not a good sleepover at our house.
Me: And why is that?
Peanut: Because I always annoy him.
Me: That's not a good reason.
Moon: Mom! He took off his pants, put on a mask, and ran into my room yelling "NAKED NINJA!" I don't call that a "good" sleepover.

And once again

Peanut: Mom, do you want this little comb that came with your new mustache scissors?
Me: Nose-hair scissors.
Peanut: Whatever. Do you want this little mustache comb?
Me: No.
Peanut: You're not going to use it?
Me: No.
Peanut: Can I have it?
Me: Yes.
Peanut: Cool. I'm going to grow a mustache. I mean, not yet, but when I do grow one I'm going to comb it.
Me: Ok.
Peanut, leaning over my face: Do you want me to comb your mustache for you?
Me: No.
Peanut: Because I could, you know...

Yeah, I know

Peanut: Mom! Why did you buy these mustache trimming scissors?
Me: To trim my nose hair.
Peanut: Oh, I thought you were going to trim your mustache.
Me: No. I need to trim my nose hair.
Peanut: So, you're not going to grow your mustache out?
Me: No. I'm not.
Peanut: You have a mustache, you know.

I didn't feenk so

Henny (aka Toddler ): I see San-a!
Me: Ooh, I see Santa, too. Hi Santa!
Henny: Hi San-a! San-a gon bing Henny a pesent.
Me: Santa is going to bring Henny a present because Henny is such a good boy.
Henny: Ess. Henny good boy.
Me: Is Santa going to bring Moon a present?
Henny: Ess.
Me: Is Santa going to bring Peanut a present?
Henny: NO!
Me: I didn't think so.
Henny: I didn't feenk so, too.

I guess I'm glad there wasn't a machete wielding psychopath at the front door

Peanut: MOM!
Me: WHAT?!
Peanut: MOM!
Me: WHAT?!
Peanut: MOM!
Me: I'm in the shower! I can't hear you!
Peanut, increasing urgency: MOM!
Me: What? Is someone here? Come up here! I can't hear you! Are you okay?!
Peanut: MOM!
Me, getting out of shower, dripping, sticking soaking wet head out bathroom door: WHAT?!
Peanut: Can we go to Target?
Me: No.

No, not exactly the same

Pushing Peanut on the swing at the park.

Me: Want me to do an underdog?
Peanut: No.
Me: Good. I'm too old for that. Grandma used to do underdogs when I was a kid. But to be fair, she was like, 21.
Peanut: What did Grandma look like when she was 21?
Me: Mmm...I dunno. I guess she had curly hair. Otherwise, pretty much the same.
Peanut: Even the same wrinkles?

Shake your love. I shake shake shake your love.

Me:  Peanut, would you mind grabbing me a Monster Energy Drink from the basement fridge.
Peanut:  I guess.
Me:  Thanks.

Peanut:  Here you go.
Me:  Thank you very much.


Peanut:  Um, Mom.  Monster Energy Drink isn't a soda, is it?
Me:  Yes.  It's just a soda with a lot of caffeine so you can't have it.
Peanut:  Right.  But it's not the kind of soda that has fizz in it, is it?
Me:  Yes.  It's carbonated.
Peanut:  Right.  But it's not the kind of soda that would explode if you shook it before you opened it, is it?
Me:  Go get me a different one.

Time to re-check his browser settings

Peanut:  Hey Mom!  When you click on a pop-up, it always takes you to a different site where it says you have to enter your ID.
Me:  Do NOT click on pop-ups.
Peanut:  I know.  I didn't.  But, this kid in my class, he has a much older brother, and HE clicked on some pop-ups and it took him to this site that tried to get his ID.
Me:  Do NOT click on pop-ups.
Peanut:  Oh, I know!  I didn't.  Besides.  It's always just a scam so people can probably come to your house and steal all your stuff.
Me:  Yes.  That is exactly right.

Do they make feline paternity tests?

Peanut:  Hey Mom!  I have something very surprising and exciting to tell you.
Me:  Ooh, what?
Peanut:  T's cat had three kittens.
Me:  Oh, wow.  They didn't know the cat was going to have kittens?
Peanut:  Nope.  They were just sitting on the couch one night watching TV and their cat started having kittens.
Me:  Oh my.  That really is a surprise then, isn't it?
Peanut:  Yep.  But, I just know that my guinea pig will never have babies.
Me:  No.  Your guinea pig will never have babies.
Peanut:  But she might.
Me:  Um, do we have a boy guinea pig?
Peanut:  No.
Me:  Then how would your guinea pig have babies?
Peanut:  I dunno.  She just might.
Me:  Peanut, didn't we talk about where babies come from?
Peanut:  I dunno.
Me:  We did.  Do you remember, it takes a boy and a girl together to make babies?  We only have a girl guinea pig.  No boy.  No babies.
Peanut:  Oh yeah.  Wait, then how did T's cat have kittens?
Me:  T's cat met a boy cat outside.
Peanut:  Who?
Me:  I have no idea.
Peanut:  I bet it was Slinky.
Me:  Probably.
Peanut:  Figures.

That's love

Peanut, crying, feelings horribly hurt:  Mom, Moon said my craft project is stupid.  Now I don't want to do it anymore.
Me:  What?  Your project isn't stupid.  It's awesome.  I love what you're doing.
Peanut:  Moon says I'm obsessed.
Me:  So what.  You're doing something creative and super cool.
Peanut:  Moon think it's stupid.
Me:  Look, Moon is an ass.  He's on his laptop doing absolutely nothing productive, and you've spent two days doing this totally awesome, creative, amazing craft.  He doesn't know what he's talking about.
Peanut:  Mom, I think you lost weight.

Would someone else care to explain why this is inappropriate?

Peanut, singing:  Santa's comin' tonight, tonight.  Santa's comin' tonight.
Me, ignoring him...
Peanut, singing:  Santa's comin' tonight, tonight.  Santa's comin' tonight.
Me, still ignoring him....
Peanut, singing:  Santa's comin' in meh butthole, Sant's comin' in meh butthole.
Me, no longer ignoring him:  Um, no!  Not appropriate.  Absolutely not.
Peanut:  What?  Why is that inappropriate?
Me, at a loss:  Because you can't say butthole.
Peanut:  We say butthole all the time.
Me:  It's not appropriate because I say so.  And I'm the Mom.
Peanut, sighing:  I don't get you.

That would be an interesting system

D:  Aren't we supposed to get all that rain tomorrow?
Me:  From the hurricane?  Yeah, I think so.
Peanut:  We're going to have a hurricane?
D:  It's not going to be where we are.
Me:  We'll just get some rain.  We're too far inland to get a hurricane.
Peanut:  Oh, because we're by Pennsylvania?
Me:  No, because New York is in between us and the ocean.  Do you guys know about hurricanes?
Peanut:  Yes.
Me:  Do you want to watch The Weather Channel so you can learn about it?
Peanut:  I guess.  Sure.
Me:  Do you know how they pick names for hurricanes?
Peanut:  Whoever dies first.

Schpeak up, Schonny

Peanut:  Mom!  I peed in the bathtub and the Toddler just put tub water in a cup and drank it!
Me:  Oh my God!  That's disgusting.  Drain the tub.
Peanut:  I poured it on him.
Me:  No!  I said drain the tub.  Do not pour pee water on your brother.
Peanut:  Come on, Mom.  Are you deaf?  I wouldn't pour pee water on him.  I SAID, "I farted on him."

They'll probably find this even funnier when they learn what "cock" means....

In the back yard with all three boys.  Neighbors are home.  There is a little league baseball game going on across the street.  Lots of local families within hearing range.

Me:  Come on, let me use the swing.
Moon:  No!
Me:  Come on.
Moon, laughing:  No!
Me:  Ick.  When is the last time you brushed your teeth?
Moon:  Mmm.....I dunno.  Probably this morning.
Me:  You have chocolate cake all over your top teeth.  Gross.
Moon, laughing:  I have chocolate cahk?
Me:  Cake.  I said cake.
Moon:  Chocolate cahk!
Me:  Stop it.  I said cake.
Peanut, laughing:  Chocolate cahk!
Moon:  I need to brush my chocolate cahk!
Peanut:  You have chocolate cahk!
Me:  Ok.  Can we please stop yelling chocolate cahk?
Moon:  You said it!  Listen I have a song.....

Honestly, I don't even remember how the song went.  But it had a lot of chocolate cahk in it.  And I totally will understand if the entire community bans their children from playing at my house.  But, the cahk was delicious.