I am the Resume' Whisperer

This morning felt like I was waking up from a long winter's nap.

I'm not sure if this qualifies, but I was out for TEN WHOLE HOURS last night. I was that wiped out after going to Chicago for one day. I can't imagine how exhausted I'll be if a bunch of us crazy triplet mommies go there for a whole weekend.

I need a nap just thinking about it.

But I'll tell you more about my trip tomorrow since none of the pictures are loaded and I'm currently typing this (in a hurry, of course) on my parents' laptop. They're "loaning" it back to me so I can write *cough*throw together a few notes on*ahem* my dad's promotion application.

I'm going to start charging for resumes. That could be a "job," right? A dollar a word and a five-spot every time I use "safety" or "team"...

I'm also watching Mike's dad's cats for 8 days twice a day. Plus my sister's cats for 6. And taking my parents' dog to our house for a week while they go to Dallas for the big game.

It's like Animal Planet around here. A dollar per turd in my lawn....

We're low on cash for a bit, so I'll take the pennies where I can find 'em. We have two budgets around here: No and Hell No. As in: Can we buy (insert any item here)? We're currently in Hell No mode.

Things were going fine. Thanks to the ladies who took me to Chicago, I only had about $230 in expenses. And Mike was scheduled for Mancation in two weeks to Kansas City.

Then I got in my car this morning when the brakes started screaming at me. So I U-turned back to Sears. $530 later, we have new rotars and brakes and a couple extra things I threw on for fun.

It wasn't a total loss. I spent over two hours in the mall and learned a lot about nose piercings and PS3 games by chatting with mall employees. I think the guy in Game Stop was just excited that a girl talked to him for more than 15 seconds... he even made sure to cover his ass crack when he bent down to grab a game.

In a coup, I convinced a stranger at a cell phone place to charge my phone on his personal cell charger.

Then I went back to Sears where I bent over and took it like a prison bitch in the wallet. As a parting gift, the mechanic dropped a ferocious butt bomb. Of course, I walked right through it. Couldn't escape from it, actually.

And a good afternoon to you, too, Sir...

Because I needed cheering (and I still needed to steal a key off Mike's ring) I stopped by Wendy's to buy lunch for Mike's coworkers. Nothing shocks a cashier like ordering 16 cheeseburgers, as I learned today. Is the tradition of buying food for fellow employees dead? You would've thought I'd ordered up a side of cow testicle with how befuddled it made people.

The funny part was watching the guys in the back piece together the burgers just like I do at home: assembly line style. Except without as much swearing and child-shooing.

I dropped them off, got my key, played with Al's cats, then got home in time to plug my computer in and blog for a few minutes before it's time to pick up the kids.

I'm so glad this day is over...

Oh wait, it's only 2:30.

Thursdays are the new Wednesdays

Yesterday at school, I spoke to Alison's teacher about possibly coming in another day each week. I'm sure it was because my brain-to-mouth filters were out of order after spending the previous 4 hours multitasking gluing and cutting and cutting and gluing while overseeing a group of kids playing a made-up game that involves counting and trading beans and rafts and bears, oh my! As soon as the words left my mouth, I had a flashback to the moment that morning when a boy had "rolled" his dice by chucking them through the air... I'd had to bite my tongue lest I haul them back to their classroom and get the hell outta there. It looks like I'll have a whole extra day to cherish those moments.

But it's all for the good of the kids. It's all for the kids. Just keep repeating that.

It was eye opening to have a candid conversation with Mrs. S over the state of their "art" programs. We used to do lots more art projects, but now we don't have time since, well... and she waved her hand over the thousands of workbook pages that I and another mom were sorting. They do a whole 30 minutes of Art Class every week. So the plan is that I will come in once a week on top of my Wednesdays to do JUST ART. Fun, right? I know. But I am royally pissed that our new-ish Governor (to whom I lovingly refer to as Chippy) has proposed a budget freeze on schools, meaning they'll have to cut programs due to built in cost of living increases for employees. And he wants to eliminate free 4 yr old preschool. Even Mike said people will just not send them because it would be too expensive.

Sigh. Anyway, one of my favorite parenting words is "garboflage." It's when you hide your kids' art projects under other papers in the trash so your kids don't know that you've tossed them out. I perform garboflaging every afternoon with their homework and some if the crappier art that makes its way home.

But after seeing how long it takes to make some of these things (our painted/colored/glued/written/stuffed/wrapped time capsules took weeks to put together), I have a new respect for the kids' art. And I will never throw any of their projects away. Ever. Because the thought that some parents would garboflage the art that the kids spent hours making with me kinda makes me want to punch myself in the throat for volunteering.

It's all for the kids, find your Zen place, it's all for the kids...

I want you to put that clusterfuck of noodles and paint on your Goddamned front door.

In other news, the Packers are going to the Superbowl, which is causing nothing short of hysterics in our family. During the last game, it was 'thrown out' by Jeff that he should buy tickets, especially since he's a Steelers fan. And then they won. And he booked a hotel room and is buying tickets. And my parents and aunt and uncle are going, too. They are all bloody insane. Now there's talk that the ticket seller was a scammer, so they're considering getting tickets for a party instead. I'll sit home happily and watch for footage of the crackheads on TV.

Although it would be kind of fun to go since we've got both Packers and Steelers fans, and my husband is a Cowboys fan and the SB is in Dallas....

Either way, I think this week is gonna be crazy busy.

Keep the Chicago suggestions coming; I can read comments from my phone but for whatever reason haven't been able to comment myself.

Titillating Tuesday: Time to send Alison back to her cell for time out

Kristin: I don't like when Alison counts down from ten. I'm on the swings and she yells at me because she wants to be by Emma. But I want to swing by Emma.
Alison: But I love Emma and want to swing with her. We're on Team 2.
Me: Don't you love Kristin, too?
Alison: Yeah.
Me: Then can you tell Kristin? I think she needs to hear it. She's sad.
Alison: Kristin.... Can you get off the swings when I tell you?
Me: That's not what I meant, Alison. What do you like about Kristin? Do you love her?
Alison: Nope. I want the swing.

This is me, thanking God those kids don't spend more than recess together at school. It would be like putting Kristin in a school prison where her sister is the scary guy you don't make eye contact with in the lunchroom.

---

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it, but I'm going back to college (again... I wonder how many times you can go back to school before you become a professional student) in the Fall. I felt old last time, and I was 3 years younger. It's hard to see Mike's puny $2300 in student loans when I've amassed over $28,000 and counting. Phew.

Guess I'd better get sewing some more bloody aprons to pay for this crap.

---

I'm heading to Chicago with a few people this weekend, and I'm looking for suggestions to make our evening unforgettable. In other words, roofies and high levels of alcohol are probably out, as well as strip clubs.

Any thoughts? Thanks! And happy Tuesday!

Spending time with the ones you love to lock in their room

I'm playing the Twenty Minutes To Clean Until I Come In With a Garbage Bag and Throw Everything Away game with the kids. To add to the fun, I've taken away their Leapster Explorers and am holding them hostage. Good times... I figure it'll give me enough time to blog this all out on my phone since - you've guessed it - my computer had a nervous breakdown.

In other news: The girls didn't have school yesterday, so I used that opportunity to teach them stuff. Like who George Washington and Abe Lincoln were. And why our current president has slightly different colored skin. Not that they asked, since they think we're all shades of tan, anyway, but I'm trying to open their eyes to history. And I'd like for them to stop yelling, "Mom! Look! A BLACK guy!" every time they see Darth Vadar. (Or, on the opposite end of the token, calling Storm Troopers "white guys.")

I'm not sure how it happened, but "school" lasted nearly SIX HOURS. And then I was spent. And I realized I had to clean yet and start the roast for supper. I have no idea how teachers do this every day without killing someone.

I probably shouldn't joke. I cracked Emma in the head with the Wii remote today. I would like to say now that I do NOT abuse my children... on purpose. Just accidentally when they get in the way of my exercise programs.

UPDATE: Their timer just went off. Many tears as I stuffed everything from favorite sleeping buddies to books and Lite Brites in the garbage sack. Fortunately for them, I am a merciful god mother, so after they wailed and cleaned their room through sobs, I brought the bag out. I have never seen them put stuff away faster in their lives.

The Honeymoon didn't last long... I can hear them jumping off their bed, pretending they're on a pirate ship about to be eaten by alligators. And, countdown to injury. 5, 4, 3, 2...

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

In an unexpected surprise this afternoon, the girls had report cards in their backpacks.

I was surprised by two and a little less than thrilled with the third.

I know my girls are smart. It's not the "cliche' mom who can't see her kid is a dim bulb" situation. There are some major barriers for my kids simply because they don't like people. Let's just throw that out there. Can you blame them? Every person they've met has looked at them like they're a freak of nature.

So my kids need structure and time to show what they know. I hate that my kids are so shy it's affecting their education.

Emma had met expectations in every category except Writing Proficiency (she "exceeded expectations") and Phy Ed where she got a P which pretty much means she must be farting around instead of playing leapfrog or whatever kids have to do in Kindergarten PE. Same with the other two girls. Do they even explain to the kids that it's not recess when they're playing these games?

I was happy with that report.

Alison had pretty much the same. Alison. My unruly child. She is kickin' it compared to the horror scene I'd had in my head when I envisioned school life for her. Since she's such a mini Mike, we'd both thought it was going to be a rough road for her. Surprise, surprise.

Emma and Alison certainly could still do better, and I know that because I am in the classes enough to want to yell at them Open your mouth and tell her the answer! The teachers don't have time to wait and see if the kids knows something. Maybe that's why Alison is doing so well. She's less inclined to shut her mouth.

Kristin is the one that bothers me. She is crazy Rain Man smart. (She's also the one who was obsessive with patterns from near-birth and the teachers said she fell below expectations in that category last quarter. I was all "What the what?!?")

On Kristin's latest report card, she fell below expectations on half of her categories, mostly including "speaking coherently" and reading and writing readiness.

Here's the quote: Kristin is an enjoyable student. She is quiet in the classroom. It takes her some time to complete her work. We encourage her to participate in classroom discussions.

The teachers have told me in the past that Kristin would rather color and write on her workbook than finish so she could play with toys with the other kids. (Just like her mommy... I loved homework as a kid.)

Kristin is a perfectionist. Borderline OCD. But it doesn't affect her except that she likes to do a good job, so she takes her time. She also needs a little prompting to speak up in big groups. I think the teachers assume that because she's so quiet, she's cognitively slow.

Not only that, but I think they've got her in the slowest reading group.

There are three reading groups in each class: Fast learners, medium learners, then the sloooow-or-not-at-all learners. I'm trying to be nice here, but that last group is so slow. So so so slow.

Alison and Emma - from what I gather - are in a faster crowd. Emma is bringing home full length sentences to read for homework: Sam is so sad. See sad Sam? Sad, sad Sam. See me. I am happy.

It's a piece of cake for the kids, but to me, it's Dr. Seuss hell.

Kristin is still bringing home older sheets that are half pictures: See me. Sad, sad me. I ["hear" picture] 1 ["dog" picture]. I see 1 ["dog" picture]. I am [smiley face].

When I have Kristin read Emma's homework, she whips through it like it's all a sick joke. Maybe Kristin is screwing with us?

In school, she plays stuttering Sue...

and at home, she blazes through the 1st Grade Placement questions (that I printed from the company's website the school uses).

the, of, and, a, to, in, is, you, that, it, he, for, was, on, are, as, with, his, they, at... see, me, am, dad, seed, than, ant, weeds...

What do I do??? I can't force the teachers to put her in a faster group, can I? I want her to earn her way up.

Can I pull the I'm a genius so my kids are genetically gifted card? Hahahaha... seriously. Can I?

I talked to Mike and we're adding 20 minutes of "school time" every night per kid.

SHOOT ME NOW.

Speaking of school, I spoke to my college advisor today. I need 25 credits to finish out my major and minor, plus an internship. About a year or a bit more, in other words. It was great to get that in motion.

I'm trying to decide if I want to lean more toward communication or politics in my final push. And I have to figure out how that's going to affect my future employment at some minimum wage hell hole.

Speaking of which, I asked Mike to pick up an application to Barnes & Noble while he was in town this morning. I'm not joking. They told him they're not currently hiring, but I wonder if he forgot to mention the application wasn't for him. It might make a difference, since Mike's hair and beard is so long he looks like a young Kenny Rogers.

They probably thought he was homeless.

So things, they are a changin'. Let's hope we all survive.

Titillating Tuesday: Kindergarten Slut

That's me. Kindergarten Slut. Maybe they could hire Ahnold to play me in a movie based on my life.

I have survived yet another round of Volunteer Day.

This morning, I'd promised Kristin's teacher that I was all hers. It seems I get stuck in a time-consuming project in Emma's room every day and never make it over to Kristin's.

And I'd just found out that the only other volunteering mom in Kristin's room was no longer volunteering after today. Now I'm the only one.

...Their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of springs, they're bouncy, trouncy, pouncy, flouncy, funfunfunfun FUN... the most wonderful thing about Volunteering Mommies is I'm the only one!

I was bouncin' and flouncin' all over the Kindergarten pod today. I was the Kindergarten Slut, and everyone got a piece of me.

Even Miss Katie* (*not her real name) got a piece of the action when she walked over to the library books I had stacked on the floor for Alison's class and kicked them over.

Smack.

---

Last night, Mike and I were discussing My Future. As in the: Time to Get a Job Conversation.

Any of you stay-at-home parents out there, please DO TELL if you've had the privilege of holding one of those little chats... It sucks the joy out of surviving the last six years of hell when the only thing holding you from locking yourself in your running car was the idea that Kindergarten is only a few years away.

I don't blame Mike. I'm sure it's been hard to go to work and see me "sitting at home" with the girls. I know he'd have loved to have stayed home with them, too. I just couldn't make the kind of cash HE can. Not without selling a kidney or two. And he won't let me harvest eggs to sell like a people farmer...

He thought aloud that I should forget about finishing my degree this year and go to work at Rockwell like everyone else in this half of the state. I can feel about a dozen people cringing through the computer.

Instead, I called my college advisor this morning. So I'm waiting to hear back about if I'm starting school this summer or in the fall. I am excited and scared. Real life is creeping oh so much closer.

*On a side note, I'd like to add that Mike has recanted his position this morning. I'm not sure if it's because he's had a change of heart or he realized he'd have to do half of the laundry/dishes/cleaning/homework/vacuuming/cooking/bill paying/remodeling if I'm working full time, but either way, I'll take it. I'm using it as a final push to get my college degree back on track.*

Mike also had another fun suggestion:

Get a job at the school since you're there so much anyway.

I told him that's not how it works, and he said that it SHOULD work that way. I wish that was the case. But I figure some day I'm gonna lose my shit and go all Crazy School Marm on the handful of kids who misbehave. I'd like to not have my income hinge on that possibility.

---

I shared a thought last night with Mike:

Why hasn't someone invented a button on the side of a TV that - when you push it - makes the remote go BEEP BEEP BEEP? so you can find it when it's lost? Because everyone talks about losing the remote. I'm a GENIUS.

You mean like a phone pager?

YES! Exactly.

(Long pause.) Duct tape the phone... to the REMOTE.

Then we both cracked up laughing.

Seriously, though. The remote pager. Someone needs to get on that because I can't even COUNT how many times Mike travels with it into other rooms or I put it on the laundry pile and can't find it.

---

Target STILL has stuff going further on clearance. Yesterday, I was walking through Target for groceries and noticed a hoard of employees in the Women's section.

What I saw was a veritable paradise of cheap women's apparel. I didn't have a chance to even look through most of it, but I did grab a fake suede coat for 75% off. We like to buy the girls' clothes a year in advance when possible, so I picked up three pairs of boots for $4 each and leggings for a buck a piece.

When it was all said and done, I was running late for a lunch date with my mom, so I checked out. (Not without grabbing a $4 yoga-esque hoodie for my mom... they didn't make size XXHuge for my boobs.) I realized in the car that I'd gone there for groceries and left with $70 in non-edibles.

DAMN.

They sucked me in again.

But I thought I should mention it for all you Target-shopping maniacs. The next section to go uber-Clearance looks to be housewares and bedding.

I'll be baahck.

---

Happy Humpadump Day!

School cancelled. Apocalypse imminent.

It's days like this that reaffirm I am not cut out for a real job. Insomniaisamutherfucker.

I'm running on 90 minutes of broken sleep and coming down off what had to be a near-fatal high of caffeine yesterday. I thought I was vibrating because I was tired, and then I checked my pulse. Tachycardia, much?

I told Mike several times over the phone that I was headed to bed, only to wander around and clean. Exactly how I'd imagine a meth head.

All because these kids are trained to kill me on the weekends. Their idea of "play nicely so Mommy can make supper" is chasing the cat on their scooters until she scrambles up into the ceiling, at which point I have to take a ten-minute break to convince the (still-claw-sporting) cat to come down. Then Emma pesters me at least a dozen times a day because she wants chicken and pea pods for supper, and we don't have any chicken to speak of.

Nothing wears them out anymore. Playing outside. A game of Simon Says. Animal Action games. Artsy crapsy. Bathtime. Movies. Stories. Singing and dancing.

If anything, I'm freakin' exhausted and the kids are doing circles around my lifeless body lying in the fetal position mid-livingroom floor.

By the way, if you ever want to find out how not in shape you've gotten since high school, I highly encourage you to jump on one foot for as long as you can. Three times, ten times, I don't care. I thought my ankle was going to snap just thinking about it. Note to self: practice jumping on one foot.

So last night, there I was, wiped out and in the middle of a disaster. I gave up on anything resembling cleaning, gave the kids baths and haircuts, then painted all 40 of our toes and 40 of our fingernails. In rainbow colors, of course.

Once they were in bed, I started downing the energy drinks... then agitated around the house for six hours. I fell asleep for half an hour after the second airing of World News Now. Just long enough until the school folks loudly sent a text saying that school was delayed and then cancelled.

I live for Mondays. I was more than slightly disappointed.

So much for sleeping after the kids went to school. I would have gotten them to school if it required I strap a couple neighborhood dogs to a sled and mush our way there. I need my ALONE TIME!

Back to the makeovers...

Since long hair is SO not cool according to my 6-year-olds, Emma insisted she wanted her hair short "like Alison's." And I'm not sure if it's me being overtired or if they really do look that much alike, but I'm having problems telling them apart today, at least at a glance.

Even Kristin is hard to pick out if she's in motion, which is pretty much nonstop on the weekends. (I would like to apologize in advance to their teachers and classmates for any confusion.)

To make up for it, I gave the girls a very short but emphatic speech tonight that they DO NOT HAVE TO DRESS ALIKE. Let's see if it works, since tonight, I insisted they pick out their own clothes from now on.

Is it weird that they haven't cared to speak up too much on that front? I thought for sure by now they'd have shut us out of the clothes-picking process, but no, they still expect me to do it.

So far so good. Tomorrow we have one going in a Packer jersey, another in a fleece hoodie, and a third wearing layered Hello Kitty t-shirts. Let's just hope that they didn't genetically receive any of my father's fashion sense. (Sorry, Dad. I promise to step in if they mix plaid and stripes.) I have a feeling Kristin is going to be our "accidentally creative" dresser.

Finally, to answer Anon's question and mortify any male readers who have made it thus far, yes, I got my period. Yes, it's aweful and drawn out, but I am NOT complaining.

Could you imagine adding another child to this insanity? As I type, the girls are running down the hallway laughing hysterically because Emma hiccoughed so hard she let one rip. It's times like this I'm grateful we never removed the child locks on the doors...

A penny saved is a penny that could have bought a nickel's worth of crap at Target

I'm a little late in posting today since I gave the cat a bath.

Hilarious, and worth every single scratch.

Anywho, we had a busy day yesterday. First off, Mother Nature decided to pay a visit. Yay! How many days is that? Was anyone counting?

Secondly, we spent the afternoon ravaging Target. And yes, Virginia, the Target Clearance Sale is real. Just about every triplet mom knows what I'm talking about, but for those of you who don't, let me explain...

See this?

That is $635 in merchandise.

A drumset, originally $80, got it for $19.
$140 tent for $69.
$120 in girls' pea coats for $30.
An over-the-door Toy Story basketball hoop for $30, got it for $9.
$50 in Paperoni for only $10.
A $40 Toy Story 3 train for $9.
$60 in men's t-shirts for $18.
Etcetera. Etcetera.

Grand total..... (drumroll please)

$212.

It is pure shopping insanity. And you should see how crazy people go in that aisle. Customers had hidden items in the back so that others might not find them after the final markdown. And some items weren't marked, so if you scanned them, you might find that the Paperoni for $10 was actually only $2.49.

One guy was wandering around in his business coat, no doubt sent there by his wife on lunch break, with a stack of toys from his waist to his chin and more dangling from one arm.

For those of you wondering what the hell is happening, every year just after the girls' birthday, Target moves into its final phase of clearance when they mark items from 50% off to 75% off.

OR MORE.

(They do this in July, too, which is when I do most of my Christmas shopping.)

And yesterday was the first day. By the time Mike and I arrived at 1 PM, half the shelves were empty. The trick is to look closely and wander the store. People are sneaky. We found items that were 75% off, unmarked on the 30% off shelf.

To anyone in the Cedar Rapids area, go to the North store if you need a princess kitchen. There are TONS LEFT. Also, buy your kids coats for next year. And candles. Over half the candle aisle is clearanced.

Mike was hesitant to buy the tent, but we'd planned on getting a new one this Summer anyway (since our last one fell victim to the Camping Weekend from Hell.) But when he saw soccer t-shirts going for $2.50 a piece, he jumped right on them... every. single. one. Because he's maybe watched an entire 10 minutes of soccer in the last 10 years...

So tell me, what deals did you find at the sale? Cough 'em up.

By the way, we gave them the drumset last night. I think Moochie's gonna need some Kitty Xanax after her bath and all the cymbal-playing in this house.

Ba-dum, *tish*

Brrr.

I called my mother to ask about her upcoming trip to Northern Wisconsin this morning. The family and some friends have rented a horse-drawn sleigh (read: hay rack) to pull them through the woods. They've done this a few times before, and it's a lot less magical than one might imagine, trust me.

Then again, I'm not one for being cold.

And supposedly, they're not even stopping at any bars this time. Blasphemous. Mom gave it one last try to get me to go with, but I told her I'd rather stay home and sleep. But, you know, have FUN WITH THAT.

With the -4* wakeup this morning, I'm going into Hibernation Mode.

Well, most of me.

While I had Mom on the phone, I took time to thank her for giving me the opportunity - through the low-rise jeans she bought me for Christmas - to share my ass crack with the world. Because there just isn't enough white girl ass crack being thrown around nowadays.

As an added bonus, Mike hid my belts from me. When I dropped the girls off at school, I had to walk like John Wayne with my hand on my belt loops, just to prevent a catastrophic ass crack exposure to the -73* wind chill.

In case you're wondering why this is such a bad thing, my husband ritualistically throws popcorn/money/straw wrappers down my sister's ass crack whenever she bends over. I feel like there's no way to explain just how bad things would get if I suddenly had that kind of target over my backside.

Plus, no one takes a girl seriously when the crack below her back is smiling at them.

And serious is what I'm going for.

I trekked my frigid ass to the City Council meeting last night. The Library Board (to our non-existent library) gave a presentation on a brilliant plan to scrap ideas of building a new library in favor of acquiring a BRAND SPANKIN' NEW brick building at a rock bottom price that hasn't sold or rented.

If you're not familiar with our town of Podunk, we have a single block of "downtown." It is our: Post Office, Bar-slash-Restaurant, Bank, Chiropractor, and Slum Apartments.

Yep, I think that just about covers it.

Right in the middle, there's a hardware store that's boarded over and one door down: a beautiful building with lots of windows that would be PERFECT for a library. It would kill lots of birds with one stone. 1) Fill the downtown. 2) GET A FREAKIN' LIBRARY ALREADY. 3) And it would make the boarded up store fronts a lot more attractive to developers and possibly put something in there besides mold and mice.

I sat through the 90 minute meeting completely contented, knowing that Mike was home, just then realizing that the kids needed to eat supper. (When I got home, he was making his specialty: Ramen Noodles. I think they would either die from starvation or become morbidly obese off carbs if something happened to me that I couldn't cook for them.)

Our neighboring town (that shares our school district) is in the process of building yet another school building to accomodate our growing population.

We'll have FOUR SCHOOLS, but our town doesn't even have a library. Or a city-owned snow blower.

Sheesh.

Anyway, it's been loads of serious fun around here.

I've been so busy, I haven't had time to post pictures from the girls' birthday on Tuesday. Mike's dad came to visit and become victim to me forcing cupcakes and 12" round cakes on him.

The girls wanted carrot cake, chocolate cake, and strawberry cake. They also thought it would be fun to stack them into one cake. Yum, sounds GOOD, right?

I figured it was okay to share a cake for one year, especially since they each had a "cake" to take to school AND a cake to share with Grandpa Scooter on Sunday AND a 3-layered cake on their birthday. That's three. Count them.

Plus a dozen leftover cupcakes and a round cake.

I don't care if that's cheating. If I had to bake any more cakes within 24 hours, I would have hunted down Martha Stewart, held a gun to her head while she baked, then tied her up in my basement for the next time I needed treats.

Which... is looking like the school party I was forced to sign up for on Valentine's Day. And Mike is going to be out of town on his Mancation. How do men always get out of doing that crap???

Here, Martha Martha...

Titillating Tuesday: A birthday and a pee stick

It's NEGATIVE. I know this disappoints some of you, and I'm pretty sure that includes my husband (he's teasing me that my excitement at the minus sign "crushed" his dream of another baby... wait a second, let me cry a tear for you - nnnnnhi UGH - one tear).

Now you can go back to your regularly scheduled program of wishing horrible things on other people...

(And for those of you who hilariously mailed me pee sticks - or the people who immediately told me how Up and Up brand pee sticks have false negatives or whatnot - if Mother Nature doesn't get movin', I'll be using every damned one of those things if I have to drink water nonstop for days. Today is TEN DAYS, people. TEN FREAKIN' DAYS.)

But thanks! I finally caved in when Tammie sent the last update request over Twitter...

---

So, it's my kids' sixth birthday today. Yay... I just spent the last three hours constructing the world's weirdest 3D cupcake creations for their classrooms. Because they just HAD to have a dog, cat and frog.

I'm hiding them from the cat in the computer room.

I learned my lesson this morning after eating a piece of bacon that had been Moochie approved via licking.

---

Mike told me tonight - as he wound up his fifth hour of racing Gran Turismo 5 - he knew that our marriage would last because, and I quote: I act like a child and you like taking care of children.

To which I responded: I like it? Or "it's legally required"?

I jest. I love my kids.

---

And since Mike is on a roll in sensitivity, he told me I'd better start putting in 40 hours of work a week. When he asked me what I do, I started listing off the basics.

Cook for 90 minutes.

Drive the kids every day for an hour.

Do the dishes for 15 minutes.

Do the laundry for a couple hours.

Flush toilets for at least 5 minutes a day.

Pick up the garbage that everyone else miraculously doesn't notice around the house.

Teach the kids stuff, like, oh... where the sun goes and how plants grow, or how our heart works to create circulation. You know, stuff that they ask about.

Un-crash the computer every other goddamned day.

So really? Not much.

But it'll seem like I do a lot more once I make his butt spend three hours whipping up a little batch of cupcakes... about 72 of them. Only to drop them off for other people to eat.

---

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

And Merry Non-Pregnancy Day!!!

Babies!

Just kidding.

Let's just throw this out there:

I have no idea what's happening here.

First off, it's Day 8. Still no sign of Mother Nature or her evil twin, PMS. But whatever. I'm trying not to care.

I'm trying to be like Mike.

When I told him I wanted to buy a test but knew as soon as I bought it, I'd get my answer the old fashioned way, he said without even looking up from his game: Then don't buy one. You'll find out eventually.

Like when? A month from now? TWO months from now?

No, when your stomach gets bigger with... A BABY.

(Like, duh.)

That wouldn't work anyway, because I've tripled my food intake in the last two days. If I don't have a real baby, I'm gonna give birth to a food baby.

By the way, I'm still sticking with: it's a fluke. Let's put some money on it.

I can say that if I was a man, I probably wouldn't care, either. And Mike's Mr. Sensitivity, fer sure. Just ask him to tell you one of his hundreds of fat, pregnant jokes. I think he's secretly rooting against me.

So I had a plan. Last Thursday, I'd gone to the local grocery store (a town away) for "noodles" and to scope out the medical section. Good thing they have plenty of supplies for periods and tooth whitening and if you get a little too much funk in your junk... but no pee sticks. And I know the gas stations don't carry them. I've looked.

On Friday, I went to the pharmacy ten minutes away. We sell odds 'n' ends here, but I don't think we sell tests.

Really? I shouldn't be surprised. There IS no such thing as an "unplanned pregnancy" in this neck of the woods. Because as soon as you get married, you should assume the birthing position until your parts shrivel up and turn to dust. This is the Bible belt... "Real America." We like our booze, our guns and keepin' our women with child.

Fuckers.

And I have more important things to worry about this week.

Like the girls' sixth birthday on Tuesday, and my dad's mini birthday party today.

I "get" that this could be a joke by some higher celestial power, but isn't that a little counter productive? Why would they want ANOTHER little me out there somewhere? It would be funnier if my uterus dropped out. Yeah, that would be a much worse punishment. Get on that, Jeebus.

Better than nine months from now, crapping out a kid.

I could really use a drink.

The low-down

Real life.

Okay. Believe it or not, there are things I don't talk about on here. Very juicy things.

Like the letter I unearthed last night in the bottom of the girls' dollar store Christmas presents from "someone" demanding that we give them $3,000 for a new furnace, ya know, because they don't want to earn the money themselves.

Like the fact that I feel guilty for spending any money because I haven't had a "real" job for six years, yet my husband can take yearly trips with friends and would have a bicycle worth more than his car if it was up to him. And I still can't bring myself to get excited about going to Chicago with Stephie the end of this month. And I really, really want to go. I'm glad that Mike has that freedom, but I can't let go of being "responsible," like we'd end up in a cardboard box on the street if I didn't put pressure on the money wound.

Like how I haven't bought more than two pairs of jeans and a handful of underpants for myself in the last five years. And I'm wearing a sports bra as I type that's at least two sizes too small. My tits are suffocating.

But mostly, things like:

I'm six days LATE.*

And I live in the only place on Earth where there isn't a single pee stick within a 15-mile radius.

I can't decide if I need to vomit or nap. Anxiety much?

*I would like to add that I am 95% sure that I am JUST late and nothing more, but I figured if I could "pee it out," (much like my stress relief habit to "dance it out") I could find out and move on with my life. One more reason to love living in a one-store town...

PSA for volunteering

*I am going to refer to a little girl today as Katie... that is not her real name, but she has such an unusual one that I'm pretty sure someone local might read this and know her. And I have no desire to get anyone's panties in a bunch today!*

Yesterday at school, it was Miss Katie's birthday.

Not her REAL birthday, but her half birthday. You know how I know? She had a crown on with her name written across it. And she told me. Twice.

The first time I met Miss Katie, I was sitting at the children's water fountain (bubbler, for all you Nort' Woods folks) filling up vials for Kristin's class. Katie ran over and grabbed a vial, stuck it under the faucet and refused to give it back to me.

A teacher walked over and told her to go back to her classroom.

I wrote it off as a 5-year-old's compulsion.

About half an hour later, I was in the center of the Kindergarten pod at a kiddie table, sticking kids' pictures to questionnaires when my fellow triplet mom Lori brought a group of kids to sit at the adjoining tables. This group included Miss Katie, her attitude, and six of her classmates.

I worried about the size of the group, first of all. I'd seen Lori in action and she's so nice I wonder how she ever survived raising multiples. (The best comparison I can make is Diane Keaton's character in The First Wives Club.) Her kids seem so well behaved that I wonder if she just lucked out? I have pretty compliant kids, but damn. Maybe it's genetic.

Was I surprised when Miss Katie plopped down next to me and refused to work? Not a bit. I could tell right off the bat it was going to be a problem.

She grabbed at the pictures I was working on, the markers I'd had lined up, and asked me constantly if I wanted to come to her birthday party, which, by the way, doesn't even exist. I reminded her that working on her art project was a privilege, and if she wasn't going to weave her beautiful paper basket thingy, there would be consequences.

Miss Katie was not in any of the three classrooms I volunteer for, so I gave Lori a chance to sort things out.

Lori finally came over and caught Miss Katie trying to cut her tongue with her scissors.

Since Lori had six other kids to tend to, when Katie acted up again, I turned her toward me and told her to look in my eyes.

You need to work on your project. This is fun! Look at all the other kids. Don't you want to have fun, too?

She looked at me with pure evil in her eyes - the kind of evil that only a 5-year-old can produce. No. I want to do what I want.

I lowered my chin and told her, You have two choices. You can either sit here nicely and work on your art project, OR you can go sit in your classroom.

She shook her head and said, Nope, I'm gonna sit here and watch.

I told her to give me her hand and I stood her up, marched her into her classroom and handed the shocked "birthday" child to her teacher with an I believe she belongs to you... Katie has decided not to work on her project. The teacher nodded and thanked me and handled the situation, then as I walked out the door, I said under my breath: Cuz that's how WE roll.

When I walked past her, Lori mouthed Thank you! to me.

I've decided that when I'm at school, all of these kids deserve to be treated like I would treat my own - I laugh with them, I try to make sure they're all included, I teach them, I redirect them when they misbehave, I give them help if they're having problems with school or other kids, and if one of them starts acting like a spoiled little shit, they can go sit by themselves while the rest of us have fun.

There are some kids who were so sassy to me on the first day that I thought I would just DIE if I had to do that once a week.

Oh my gawd. Remember Chase who tried to stab me in the eye with scissors then threw his pencil box at the principal as he walked away? I thought, I can't deal with this. I will lose my freakin' mind. Now when Chase sees me, he stands up and waves with a huge smile.

It makes me wonder if they get away with that stuff at home. I find that most kids (at this age) have a built in feature that they want to impress you. You've gotta work it.

One little boy who gave me a hard time in the beginning of school wrapped me up in a hug when I saw him out in public a month ago. His dad looked at the boy like he'd lost his marbles when I told him I know your son from school... I work with him once a week.

I'll be working on projects in the middle of the K pod and kids will file by on their way to recess or lunch or the library... I'll hear, Hey, Mrs V! and a bunch of kids are frantically waving. My girls are probably sick of hearing about how awesome their mom is. (I am awesome.) One little girl asked me if she could come to my house and play yesterday. They crack me up. It is way better than getting paid to do this.

Plus I figure I can hear all the good gossip. And when Emma's classmates had to list who their friends were, I made sure to note the ones who included Emma (for future parties and playdates...) Sneaky, sneaky.

I love seeing MY kids, too, but the best part for me is knowing that some of these kids needed someone to listen and make them feel important. Or needed someone to show them the line and what happens when you cross it.

So it's not all bad. But it's certainly trying when you have limited time to make sure everyone is having fun and learning, and one child is being a thorn.

I hope I see Miss Katie again next week. I'm going to make small talk and let her know I don't hate her.

Maybe it'll be HER next time running up to say hi in the grocery aisle... OR coming after me with a pair of scissors.

Either way, should be interesting!

Time to whip out my bitch stick

Lovely, isn't she?

That's how Kristin came home from school yesterday.

I overheard her talking to her sisters in the back seat on the way home, I have a BLACK EYE.

And since I rarely inspect the children any more than just counting them as I put them in the truck and rush out of the madhouse parking lot at the school, I hadn't noticed. But damn, sure enough. Big purple and black and green oval covering her entire eye socket and the bridge of her nose.

I dug through her backpack looking for some kind of note from the school. Nothing.

Okay, so there I was, worrying about Alison the whole previous evening and what I would ask the teachers, and then my OTHER child comes home with a shiner?

I was in disbelief.

I gave Kristin the third degree. Maybe they didn't know she got hurt? I went to the nurse's office and she gave me an ice pack! Maybe they didn't know it was turning purple? Everyone in class wanted to see my black eye. Maybe the teachers didn't think it was that serious? It certainly wasn't an emergency, but it was making me doubt that they would get back to me if something REALLY serious happened... Dallas accidentally punched me in the eye at P.E.

I had yet another fun topic to chat with the teachers when I went in to volunteer this morning.

I spent the first two hours directing kids to paint paper towel roll "time capsules" while filling out a questionnaire to go inside. In between groups of kids, I would sneak off to peek in on Alison.

Finally, one of the special needs helpers looked up and asked me if everything was okay. I mouthed to her, I'm spying on Alison... she's having issues. With JACK. She gave me a nod and I continued that Alison had been crying at home over things he was doing at school. She shook her head and said, He's been removed from the classroom today.

Hmmm... I wonder if it was coincidence? Do any teacher friends read this blog? Hahaha...

Anyway, Alison's teacher was gone, so I put that topic on the back burner for yet another day.

Off to finish up the paper towel rolls...

As a highlight of my day, there are two boys - Harrison and Parker - in Emma's class with special circumstances. Harrison has Autism and Parker has Down Syndrome. They spend most of their time with their own special helpers, but I approached the women to ask if the boys would be able to paint their own time capsules.

When the boys sat down to paint, I began asking the sheet of questions that nearly every other student had problems answering. Harrison answered every single question. The helper was so impressed, she wrote a note on the back of his questionnaire: These are Harrison's answers, given 100% independently. It felt great, since I know in the past I've had problems getting Harrison to cooperate.

Parker also did 3/4 of the questions on his own. Some of the answers were hysterical. Harrison answered: What don't you like to eat? with: Fish food.

Good answer, Harrison!

At the very end of the morning, I spoke to Kristin's teacher - the one who worked yesterday.

As soon as I started with I wanted to talk to you about Kristin... she looked completely apologetic and said I'm so sorry, I meant to write a note!

Turns out, she was in RECESS (not PE) in the gym and slammed bodies with Dallas - in Emma's class. Emma's teacher saw it and sent her to the nurse, or more likely the secretary, as Miss O. explained, to get an ice pack. Miss O. didn't call me because that is the nurse's duties if she feels it's warranted. If Kristin was intercepted by the secretary, she likely didn't call but sent her back to her room. And once back in the room, the teacher likely didn't know what had happened to begin with (and the kids go to the nurse for ice packs a lot in that school) so didn't call.

BUT, she said what she WAS going to write a note about:

Kristin had had tears running down her face, and black marker on her hands.

I'm guessing that's why most of her "bruise" was gone this morning... 20% shiner, 80% art project.

Sheesh.

These kids are going to be the death of me.

I'll get back to you on the Jack situation, as soon as I can contact Mrs. S...

Titillating Tuesday: The Bully Edition

Day Two back to school and I'm already pissed. We're having bully issues, but not how you might imagine it.

All three girls love school. If I want them to hurry out of bed in the morning, all I have to do is threaten to keep them home from class. They love their teachers and have a few friends each.

At the beginning of the school year, I started a tradition. On the way home, they'd take turns telling me the fun stuff they did that day - who they hung out with, what projects they worked on, whatever they wanted to share. I could drive home while they knocked out our "debriefing." Two birds, one stone.

Every afternoon, Alison would begin her turn with: Jack (stepped on my hand/pulled my hair/was mean/got in trouble). At first it wasn't a big deal, but I finally asked her to tell me what SHE did that day, not Jack.

I was volunteering in their classrooms and knew there weren't any obvious problems, but the teachers fought over who got the helper and Alison's class needed me the least. I spent most of my time with Emma's and Kristin's rooms.

For the first few weeks, I wasn't really sure what was going on with this Jack kid. Alison's typically a kid who can let stuff roll off her back, and if anything, she's the sassy independent one of all three of my girls. I decided to investigate.

It turns out another triplet mom has a son in Alison's class, too. I nonchalantly asked her if Lucas was having any issues with this boy, Jack. She looked at me in surprise and then nodded and smiled like she was relieved it wasn't just her son. That was a big YES.

Then I asked Emma's teacher if I could volunteer with Alison's classroom instead.

That was the eye opener.

Pester pester pester.

Jack would NOT leave Alison alone. He wasn't being intentionally mean, but he would pull her hair to get her attention or insist loudly that he had to sit next to Alison, then he'd steal her crayons and talk to her instead of leave her to do her projects. And I mean talking LOUDLY at her. And grabbing her pictures. And just generally annoying. He thinks he needs to be connected to her 24/7.

Best of all, they're in the same group, so when they rotate through the stations, he goes EVERYWHERE with her.

Alison looked up at me while he was petting her hair and yapping at her with eyes that said HELP ME.

I found out that this little boy has major behavioral issues, but I wondered if it wasn't equal parts nature and nurture. His parents had sent pop to school with him for lunch until the teachers found out and told them to stop.

As far as my interventions in the classroom, I could spend every waking moment redirecting this kid. Put your snowpants on your hook. If YOU take your snowpants, I'LL take your jacket. Please sit in your seat and draw three pictures that start with I. No, you CANNOT sit over there. You have to sit in your spot. Pick a crayon. Any color. Here, TAKE THE CRAYON. Okay, now what's something that starts with I?

I swear I got him to draw an icicle in about ten minutes. The teacher looked over from the guided learning table and mouthed: I'm so sorry!

Later when I spoke to her, she said he usually has a helper to direct him, about half the time. The other half? The teacher's pretty much on her own. And she said he would take up all her time if she let him. I completely understand because he DOES. He refuses to get his snowgear on and fights her so she spends half her lunch break dressing Jack.

I feel bad for both of them.

But most of all, I feel bad for Alison.

Yesterday, she was in tears on the ride home. She refused to tell me how her day went. I thought she was just being moody, so I took her aside in the livingroom.

Alison told me she played by herself today and just wanted to be left alone. I asked her if she had any friends. She - in dramatic fashion - said no. Then I asked about Claire. She perked up. Yep, Claire is my friend. We play puzzles together.

I went down the class list quickly and methodically, and every person was her "friend." She told me what they did together.

In an absentminded moment, I said Jack.

She shut down. She put her chin down and started to whimper. I asked her if Jack was her friend or nice to her sometimes. She shook her head No and started to cry.

So of course I Facebooked it. My neighbor said she needed to talk to me, and when I called her, she said they were having problems, too. She knew the mom - friend of a friend sort of thing - and when she had found out their kids were in class together this year, my neighbor friend sent Jack's mom a message to say hi. The mom's response? I just hope we can still be friends after this school year.

So what would YOU do?

Obviously this boy needs help or structure or more guidance for an emotional disorder - I don't think he has any diagnoses at this time - but I can't put Alison through this day after day.

She's starting to hate school.

First off, I'm speaking to the teacher one-on-one when I go in tomorrow, and asking that they be separated into different groups.

Then again, is it really fair to the other kids? I don't know what to do.

I would definitely love help from any moms of special needs kids or others who might have tips on how to get Jack some help, too. This has become a circus.

2010 Brain Purge

2011 is starting off with the removal of all things jolly.

I asked Mike a couple days ago: I'm thinking of taking down the tree... what do YOU think? Or should we leave it and decorate it for Valentine's Day? That could be fun.

It's taking up at least 16 square feet.

More than THAT...

Okay, 25 square feet. Get rid of the thing.

Ho, ho, ho!

I should mention that I'm making an effort not to complain for a while. So what you're about to witness is not complaints so much as a tally of this past week's events.

First, Emma had some weird recurring blister-looking raised rash that would show up on random parts of her body over three days. Face. Belly. Arms. And then it would disappear just as quickly. Like within MINUTES. I thought it might be hives, but there wasn't anything she had consistent contact with. A very smart woman - you know who you are - told me it could be from heat. I think she's onto something.

As soon as I took off her PJs, Emma's welts began to disappear. Think it's the pajamas? Think again. She got them the next day under her t-shirt. Weird.

Then I tried to be fun and tune Emma's guitar - give her something to focus on instead of her itching skin.

And I tuned it a bit too high and snapped a string. Whoops...

A trip to Target, five dollars and an hour later, we had tunage. She was slightly ecstatic.

The sound of the girls "playing" Jingle Bells combined with the first eight notes of the Charlie Brown theme song for four straight hours drove me up the wall brought joyful tears to my eyes.

Alison entertained us by turning on the Jazz Music provided by her drum pad and then dancing like she was on Sprockets.

Then we painted nails with all the fun colors Untie Stuffie gave them. Who needs Hello Kitty nail polish when their aunt buys them the fancy O-P-I stuff? It was more fun than I had anticipated. Gone are the days of painting one child's hands while screeching at another I told you those aren't dry yet quit rubbing your hands on your pants ohmygad just stop. Just stop! Yes, MUCH more pleasant this time.

And they went sledding on the lawn for a whole 15 minutes. Didn't you love to play outside in the snow at night? That was my favorite memory as a kid.

These kids? Nope. I had to shove them out the door. I'm pretty sure they had fun, though. Until Emma came in with bright red cheeks and another blistery rash spreading across her forehead...

The next day, it started to rain.

The girls were devastated when the piles and piles of snow disappeared. But we didn't go to Grandpa Reuben's house and go sledding! (My grandfather in Northern Wisconsin... we went sledding through their woods the past two years and they talk about it incessantly. I'm thinking a trip up North might be in the works in February.)

So I let them write a letter to Grandpa Reuben and Grandma Louise. Kristin tried to spell their names on her own... notice the Roobin on the left and the Uwez on the bottom by my thumb.

By the way, that's a Gingerbread Man holding a hot air balloon. Half the fun is guessing.

Despite the icy roads, my sister brought her family up for New Year's Eve. We spent most of the night playing Mad Gab and watching Stripes, then The Man Who Knew Too Little.

The girls were so excited to show everyone their toys. And no matter how many times I reorganize their room, it looks like Santa's workshop took a giant crap on their floor. Toys EVERYWHERE.

But most of all, Kristin adored having her cousin Elliott to visit (she's on the right).

Nine out of ten pictures I have of our kids, they're in that exact same order. Alison and Emma, Elliott and Kristin. I told Stephie that her son is Kristin's vanished twin.

And of course all three of the girls smothered my sister. It might have something to do with how much she spoils them. Just a hunch.

They left early the next day, and my parents sent me a text asking if we wanted company. (The surprising part is not the text but that it was a complete sentence with punctuation. Hallelujah for technology. Although I'll miss receiving cryptic text messages from my father like: "We have to PPPOIOO9909P9[OPOKO." Or: "Reynaldos 6.")

And by the time they left, they had convinced Mike and I to send the kids back with them and have a date night.

I hate doing that, but we had a few free bowls saved up at Genghis Grill and a newfound sense of adventure. So we bought the Family Guy Star Wars spoof trilogy and went back home. Yes, we are living the high life.

Not before having a little Wal-Mart wildlife interaction in the camping aisle when a heavily tattoed, pierced and smoke-scented guy in leather approached us to chat about cell phones.

(I have to admit - I checked to make sure my wallet was there when he finally wandered off.)

In other news, the Packers won their game yesterday and are in the playoffs.

And Mike had to take our one functioning vehicle to work today so my parents brought me a vehicle at 8 AM this morning. From 25 minutes away. I owe them. And if Mom ever needs a kidney, I will totally cough one up.

Like I said, I can't complain. Things always seem to work out.

As you can tell, my brain is all over the place. I need to take a little time this morning to relax and enjoy the silence.

2010 is over.

And Christmas Break is over.

It went way too fast.