Ambushed

"Mom, Rachel threw up and needs Medicine" ~startles awake in the early AM to the demands of hyper children who obviously have alarm clocks that go off at 3am to be awake this time of day~

"Mom, the baby has the medicine." ~eyes start to drift shut until I hear this one~

"Mom, we don't have enough bags of sugar to make the Kool-Aide." ~thinks 'bags? how many bags does it...wait, what?!~

"Mom, the cookies look burnt, do I give them to the baby?" ~thinks 'I haven't made any cookies in a week, what are they talking about?'~

"Mom, can I have a Mt. Dude? (should be Dew, but...it's Dude to my 7 year-old) ~thinks 'heck no'~

Commotion commences downstairs, then a blood-curdling scream. Lord WTF has laid in wait, ready to ambush me as I sleep off two days of exhaustive house cleaning. New year, same war. Hope everyone's holidays were great.

Pointless Question

I'm not dead. Just to prove it, here is a quote heard in my house yesterday.

"Gah! Why is the floor crunchy!?"

~I give a puzzled look to such a pointless question~

"You have kids, now get the vacuum."

Pimp My Ride

I'm used to Lord WTF using biological weaponry in this war of ours, but seriously, my toothbrush?

So, the oldest boy asks me if he can wash his toy truck in my bathroom sink. I say sure, needed him distracted for a few while I handle the baby. I come back upstairs after a "capture the baby and wrangle a new diaper on him" battle. Faintly, I hear a slight vibrating noise. It's subtle and I, for the life of me, can't make out what it is.

As I walk into the bathroom, I see the boy using my electric toothbrush to detail his truck. He's got that sucker on high and is doing the rims, the grill, even the interior as if I don't have to put that thing in my mouth later.

I just didn't even know how to scold him and sent him downstairs to play. I'm getting a new toothbrush head tonight. Case closed.

Get bent

Church is an adventure every Sunday. It really is. It's a time for renewal and reflection as we give the first morning of the new week to the Lord. I mean, He does deserve the attention, much more than we show, but it also a time of testing for our children. How will they behave? Will they get along with other kids? Be polite? Tell someone when they need to use the bathroom?? For one hour a week, we put utter faith that all the teachable moments at home have stuck with them and they will shine for a little while in front of others.

Then there was last Sunday. As we are getting ready to take the kids to their classes, I'm helping Aaron put his shoes on. They get time on the indoor playground before class and I make them remove their shoes so they don't kick each other or someone else's kid in the face. Well, me being the princess of grace that I am, ended up knocking the boy to his arse when I tugged on his laces to tight and he fell back, off balance. He was mortified. So, I help him up, dust him off, and finish with the laces. As I'm gathering up the diaper bag and a gazillion other things that have to go with the kids to their classes, he proceeds to tug his pants down to show the world his bottom.

"You ruined my bottom," he practically hissed, showing me his now red from impact butt.

I could already feel the stares as parents filed passed. Eh, nothing new with our family.

"I'm sorry," I apologize through barely muffled giggles, pulling his pants back up. My lack of self control causes further humiliation for the boy.

"Mom, you are so bent," he growls.

Oh, if he only knew. :p

Weapons of choice

Oh, Lord WTF was in fine form this morning. Ever notice how so many of the greatest battles in our world's history began at dawn? Before the modern centuries when things like night vision goggles, even electric lights on a mobile scale came into use, armies would strike at first light. For either practicality or affect, it was cool.

Well, dawn served us an ass whuppin' today.

Since the time change, our children have decided that 5am is the hour of choice to rise and greet the day. Let's just say they hand the sun his morning cup of coffee when he rolls out of bed. What is worse, the 3 year-old gets up first. This a problem because he is at that age where he thinks he's as tall as his father and can fly like Superman. And when he thinks he can pour his own juice.

With his general and commander Lord WTF behind him, Samuel decided to get out the gallon, the new gallon of apple juice out and pour him a cold one. In what must have been a spectacular cascade of shimmering amber liquid, 3/4ths of the bottle dumped across a table, three chairs, a bench and a hardwood floor. Sadly, it sat there for a half hour before I made it downstairs so I could catch a shower.

"I'm sorry," was about as much as the husband could say before he flew out the door to the peace of his daily grind, a 'thank God it wasn't me' look covering his face.

Yeah, apple juice. A true Weapon of Mass Destruction.

When blue bears come knocking

Ah, it has been awhile since I've updated. Homeschooling has me busy, but I'm going to put forth a new effort to get my WTF moments out there. So, here we go.

This morning, well before dawn was creeping over the horizon, hubs and eye peeked our reluctant eyes open, becoming vaguely aware of a new day barreling down on us at warp speed. Things were quiet, but that lasted all of three minutes when we heard the kids starting to stir...loudly. Our marital affections had been on hiatus for more than a few days (a record for us), so with ginger footsteps, Hubs crept out of bed and shut our bedroom door. Click went the lock. A few moments of amorous affection began to ensue before the herd completely broke out of their pens and we would be, uh, interrupted yet again.

Fate hates us having sex. No sooner had the thought of even remotely thinking of doing such a thing with each other crossed our minds in mutual agreement when a loud rapping came at the door. "Mama...Daddy...you lock the door?"

Samuel. Sammy-boo, Samwise. He was up.

"Yes, I called out. We'll be out in just a minute." Sad to have to admit that our time together was probably going to be just that, but I would take anything at this point.

Silence on the other side of the door. He bought it!

*knock, Knock, KNOCK* "Mama, Daddy," he called again in such a sweet sing-song voice. "Blue Bear wants to see you!" Jeez, how do you even think about sex after that?

"Coming," I sighed while Steve grumbled all the way to the shower. Blue Bear was very pleased.

*and for my family who reads this, sorry for the subject and all, but this was seriously funny. so if my bros are wretching right about now....hahahahahahaha!

"Wait for it..."

I flicked on tennis today and my oldest son sat down to watch it. The kids are beginning to bud into sports nuts like their mom, but what floored me was how into the match he was. He kept track of score and seriously, when a serve was lobed over the net, he whispers..."wait for it..." to the returning player. I nearly choked. Kid already has an eye for the game and is giving tips. Armchair enthusiast! It's genetic.