You made it! Here it is... the blog where you get to sit back and laugh at - or be completely horrified by - life with 5 kids, 2 parents, 1 dog, 2 cats, 1 guinea pig, & 2 turtles (and those are just the creatures we know about).


Rite of Passage

Growing up, my parents never censored me too much. I've written about it before. They definitely indulged my thirst for scary movies and books (or passed it on to me at a young age - I'm not sure which). Either way, it seems to me that I remember watching my fair share of scary movies very early on in life. This may also be why I never slept in my own room (even though I had one) and I'm still afraid of dolls and clowns. 

Oddly enough, I have fond memories of watching Poltergeist as a kid. I was probably 5 years old and I'm sure I begged my folks to let me watch it. I'm sure I also cried and never slept alone again, but I still think of that film as one of my favorites. Because Hollywood insists on recreating every movie from my childhood, my kids have seen the trailer for the new Poltergeist movie. And they have been begging me to let them see it. I'm guessing that 2015 special effects will have a major advantage over those from 1982, so I have no intention of letting them see the new movie just yet. But I decided that last night, as a family, we would watch the original movie. I was so excited. This was going to be my kids' first scary movie. PJ was a little concerned that we'd traumatize the children and they'd all be sleeping in our bed forever. But, since Charlotte has informed me that she's still going to be sleeping there when she's 6, I don't really see what the problem is. (She's kind of a jerk. And a nightly visitor in my bed. But that's a story for another day.)

So, we busted out the popcorn machine, turned out the lights, and put on my favorite scary movie. And my kids were not scared. Granted, Charlotte slept through most of it, but the rest of them really weren't scared. I have had a lifelong fear of clowns from that one scene in the movie. (Side note: for those of you sending me pictures of people dressed as clowns - NOT scary. It's dolls. Dolls dressed as clowns that scare me. Because they come to life and strangle you under your own bed. People dressed as clowns? They just have questionable fashion sense.)

Seriously - this scene only lasted a few minutes, but it stayed with me for life...

They definitely jumped once or twice, but they didn't seem to be overwhelmingly scared. Not that I wanted to actually traumatize my children, but there were a few times when they laughed. I was highly disappointed. And now I can see that I'm going to have to wait for the 2015 version to come out so that I can really try to scare the pants off them. I'll have to get tips from my mom and dad on how to do this right.


What about you? Are you a fan of scary movies? Leave your story in the comments below...


Snowpocalypse Dinner

For the fourth weekend in a row, my weekly grocery run has coincided with another monster snowstorm. As these snowstorms also mean hubs has to be at work managing snow removal, that leaves me alone with five kids. As much as I love my kids (who are generally well-behaved), I really didn't think I could handle a trip to the store with all of them and ALL of the lunatic storm-peppers who are still buying all of the milk, bread, and eggs. 

So, yesterday, I made a quick trip to the CVS down the street for a few snacks to keep them quiet and decided to wing it from there. Hence this tweet:

We made it through until tonight when I realized that I was pretty much, officially out of food. So, I called the kids into the kitchen and informed them of what I had left. They got to pick from those choices. Dust off my Mother of the Year award because this dinner was just about completely devoid of any nutritious benefits.

In case you're wondering, I had a beer and some ramen noodles. Hopefully, we can venture out tomorrow and stock up on some French toast ingredients (and maybe even some real food). There's another storm coming Tuesday and we're scraping the bottom of the barrel (or back of the pantry).

Whatever I do, I need to avoid the crowds. I can't take another trip to the grocery store surrounded by these people:

Think warm thoughts for us... surviving Snowmageddon 2015 is getting old...
The view from our window this morning. There are streets there somewhere...


What about you... how are you surviving this winter? Share your story in the comments below...


Playing Possum Isn't Just A Saying, You Know...

I used to use the term "playing possum" when Lucy was little. Lucy was painfully shy as a tiny one. I could almost never detach her from my hip. One time, my sister offered to babysit her and Patrick so PJ and I could go out. Lucy then proceeded to spend the next three hours not moving and not making eye contact. She played possum. I think in her little brain she thought if she stayed still long enough, they would all go away. Luckily, she grew out of that by the time I had to pry her off my legs to go to preschool.

I know that the saying stems from a possum's defense of playing dead to avoid prey. I had just never witnessed it, myself. Back in October, I wrote a tip for Tuesday reminding you to lock your dog door (if you have one). This is because I walked through the living room one morning and almost stepped on the slaughtered possum that my asshole dog left on the rug for me. It was completely disgusting and I made PJ get rid of it. I stop my wifely duties at carcasses.

About two weeks later, we were all sitting down to dinner in the dining room. Our dining room and living room share a big space, so when the kids were done with dinner, some of them moved over to the couch. A few of us were at the table and a couple of kids were hanging on the couch. None of us saw the dog come in from the dog door by the slider. All of a sudden, Sean started shouting, "Mommy, mommy, mommy!" in an increasingly panicked tone. Then he yelled, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT HE'S EATING!" This foolish animal has eaten so many toys and baby dolls, I just kind of assumed that was what Sean was so upset about. I should've known better by his panic. I walked over and the dog was very busy playing with a bloody mess that was, in its better days, a possum. How he even managed to walk right by all of us and drop that in the middle of the living room is a complete mystery. Ninja asshole.

I quickly ushered the kids out of the room so PJ and I could deal with it. Possums aren't small, by the way. I've dealt with the cats leaving gifts of birds, mice, and even snakes. Possums are not tiny critters. PJ went and got the shovel and asked me to hold open a large trash bag. As he scooped up this poor, dead thing, it moved. Not only did it move, but as PJ lifted the shovel the damn thing STOOD STRAIGHT UP. It wasn't dead. It was playing possum! At that point, we couldn't stick a live possum in a bag, so I held the front door and PJ walked straight through the house balancing a possum standing up on the end of his shovel. I'm so sad I didn't get a video of that.  (Stop for one moment and close your eyes. Please picture my husband walking ever so gingerly through my house with a shovel held at arm's length and a full-grown possum just standing straight up on the end of said shovel.) Those were some impressive moves.

Thank you Opossum Society of the US for this handy explanation!

Since the great live possum of 2014, we haven't had anymore animal incidents. I can only hope we get to witness the origins of some other popular English idioms in 2015. Maybe someone will actually let the cat out of the bag. Or, perhaps, we will hear something straight from the horse's mouth. Like a neigh. Or a whinny.


-->What about you? Have your pets left you any awful "presents"? Were they still alive?? Leave your story in the comments below...


And Then This Happened...

I think enough time has passed that I can write about what happened over the long weekend. It took me a good week to get over the trauma. (Disclaimer: If you have a weak stomach, this post is NOT for you. Go read something else.)

The weekend before last, we decided to take a little ski trip for the long weekend. PJ & I each took a personal day on Friday with the intent of getting a good ski day in. Naturally, things didn't quite go to plan. Sophie woke up in the middle of the night getting sick. We spent so much time dealing with that, we decided to sleep in a bit and leave later. By noon, Sophie was back to her old self and we headed north.

We got up to Bretton Woods around 4pm. Even though it was freezing out, we figured we could do a bit of skiing with the kids. We worked up a good sweat wrestling all five of them into all of their gear and then promptly froze our damn asses off. After the second run, the kids wanted to quit. We managed 2 more runs before we actually had a few of them in tears and called it quits.

The Accurate Weather app always pegs it. Much Freezy.
The next day, as it was still "much freezy," we decided to hit up the local indoor water park. The kids had a blast, didn't freeze their tails off, and were looking forward to a full ski day on Sunday. Or so we thought. {cue foreboding music}

Aren't they adorable? You can't even see all of the disgusting germs they're harboring.
Saturday night at dinner, I wasn't feeling all that well. I ordered some soup for dinner, but decided not to eat it because I had a feeling that I'd be seeing it again. When we got back to the hotel room, it started. I was officially ill. I knew I couldn't possibly be lucky enough to dodge the stomach bug after staying up Thursday night with Sophie, a.k.a. Lady Barfs-A-Lot. So there it was. I was sick. Dammit.

Our hotel room was a suite with a bedroom, a bathroom attached to that, and a living room with a pullout that all of the kids were sleeping on. I was laying in our bed, feeling sorry for myself and not really resting, because I had a pretty good sense that trouble was coming. Right on cue, Lucy called out from the living room that her stomach hurt. I rushed her into the bathroom just a second too late. So now I was sick and cleaning up after someone else with the nice hotel towels. As she was getting sick, PJ started, too. Those two were in the bathroom together (a bonding experience that should never happen), when I felt another wave of nausea and promptly used the trash bin. We were officially a frat house after a really big night of binge drinking.

After that bout, PJ, Lucy, & I climbed into our bed. I kept the trash bin nearby in case Lucy couldn't climb out of the middle of the bed fast enough. Over the course of the night, I barely slept because I was either sick or sleeping on high alert waiting for the next kid to start. My only concern was keeping the beds clean. We weren't home where I could wash sheets or clean beds (or even send them to another room). We were trapped with only a few clean towels left and one set of sheets in the closet. God help us.

The three of us continued to get sick over the course of the night. Around 1am, Patrick announced that he didn't feel well. Luckily, the hotel is environmentally conscious, so I gave him the recycling bin to keep next to his side of the pullout.That way, we didn't risk him running through the bedroom and not making it to the bathroom in time. I don't think I really slept the rest of the night because I knew the little ones were next. Sure enough, Charlotte woke up around 2am. She told me she was very thirsty. I got her some water and kept asking her if she felt alright. She assured me she was fine and let out a little burp. But, I knew better. All of a sudden, she started, too. The poor kid. She didn't know what was happening. All I could think was that I needed to keep these damn beds clean. So, I slapped my hand over her little mouth and carried her like a football to the nearest trash barrel. For the rest of the night, the five of us were getting sick sporadically in our disgusting little germ factory. Right on cue, Sean sat up in bed and threw up, too. For those of you who believe in Hell, I believe I've had a glimpse of it. Hell is two adults and four kids taking turns barfing in a little hotel suite with one toilet (and, thank the Lord, two trash barrels and a recycling bin). All while the fifth kid, who started it all, talks about how she's totally fine and wants to know when we're going skiing.

Luckily, the getting sick part only lasted a few hours. But then we stayed in bed all day feeling like death. That may be the first Patriots playoff game I've ever watched without food or beer. You know my kids are really sick when you can trap five of them in a hotel room for an entire day and never once have to ask them to be quiet. It was kind of amazing.

The next day was the last day of our long weekend and we all woke up feeling perfectly fine. Sadly, with a three hour ride home, we didn't really have time to do any skiing.We'll have to try again, soon. Hopefully, the next trip will go off without a hitch. Or at the very least, without any vomit.


(And before you ask, I did what I could to clean up the room. We also warned the maid and tipped her well.)

--> What about you? Any stomach bug disasters in your house? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...


Screw italics. How is there STILL no sarcasm font??

I had a little tantrum in the notepad app of my phone last week. This past Wednesday went MUCH better, but I thought my tantrum was still worth posting:

Do you know what's not annoying? Staying late at work every Wednesday for professional development (when Wednesday has the toughest classes). 

You know what's not annoying? When you've had a really tough day of teaching a few really rude students and you come home to children who are acting ever so slightly psychotic. 

You know what else isn't annoying? When your husband decides to test his fancy new smoke detectors at 9 pm to make sure that when one goes off, they all go off. Btw: they work. ALL of them. Yay

And do you know what's not annoying? The Rugrats-themed hold music that the hubs has on speakerphone at top volume while he continues to test the smoke detectors. (Seriously. Google the Rugrats music, then blast it on repeat. Not painful, at all.)
 Also not annoying: the chewed-up chocolate Advent calendar that the dog left all over the rug. Now he'll have the runs and Charlotte will be one pissed-off little elf. SO not annoying. 

Do you know what else isn't annoying? When your shins still feel horribly bruised from the ski boots you buckled your giant man-calves into a full week ago. It's fun walking around feeling like you've been kicked repeatedly by evil midgets. (Dwarves, little people... Whatever. Too busy not being annoyed to be politically correct.) 

It is also not at all annoying when one of your students waits until the class is over (and the next group is arriving) to throw an entire bucket of squares on the floor. Math manipulatives make excellent confetti.
Maybe I should've made this some kind of counting activity...

 So, I'm over it today (it is Friday, after all), but I'm sure this list has growth potential. 

What about you? Anything you'd like to add?...


Wardrobe Malfunction

I feel like it has been a while since I had a good wardrobe malfunction to report. Not to worry, friends. I'm up to my old tricks again.

Two weeks ago, I took a pair of jeans out of the closet that I hadn't worn in a while. (I'd gotten too big for them.) Imagine my joy when I realized that I could actually button them without feeling like I was doing damage to my internal organs! I buttoned them up (with no pain) & thought I looked pretty good. Until I got to work.

Before my first class, I went to the ladies' room. It wasn't until I pulled my pants down that I realized that I could actually see THROUGH the thighs of my jeans. Apparently, I'd put the jeans back in the closet with worn out thighs - Why? Why didn't I throw them out?? - and it had been so long, that I'd forgotten all about the holes. (It's a tough life when your thighs rub your jeans right out.) 

Luckily, I have good friends at work. How do you know if you have good friends? Here's one quick rule to measure by: Will your friends stand behind you and basically look right up your ass to make sure the holes in your pants don't show? No? Then you don't have very good friends. 

I managed to make it through the day without flashing my thighs at anyone. I also managed to throw those babies right into the trash when I got home. (Or, right onto the floor. Where they will end up in the laundry and hanging back in my closet for me to repeat the same mistake on another day. It's hard to keep track of these things.)

I'm pretty sure the whole "ripped jeans" look isn't meant to show you the floor when you have to pee.
Here's to making it through the week without any body parts busting out of their casings. 

HEY! If you enjoy the blog, why not become a follower? I'm the one who is buying pants. You can also stalk find me on Facebook and TwitterLike the page and follow me!

**And be sure to visit my Zazzle store. Don't you need a new coffee mug or apron?

-->What about you? Have your clothes failed you lately? Feel free to share your story in the comments below...


Tuesday's Tip (#43)

Here's a tip for you:

Lock the dog door.

Otherwise, you may wake up early and decide to walk through your living room and narrowly avoid stepping on the carcass of a murdered possum. Because, of course. Why wouldn't my dog go out in the middle of the night and kill a possum to bring back for me as a gift? Silver lining: I'd rather have a dead possum than a live one in my living room. 

Be glad I decided to draw the line at what is Instagram-worthy. No corpses.