Hiding

Charlotte has this quirky little habit and I think it needs a name. It's been going on for at least a year, but it seems to have ramped up in the last few months. Charlotte is a "hide-o-maniac." She suffers from a severe case of "hide-o-mania." Seeing as she is a pretty typical toddler, I feel like this behavior must already have a proper scientific name. If you know what it is, please fill me in.

If you were to come to my house, I would warn you not to put anything small or even remotely valuable anywhere that Charlotte can reach it. If you don't heed my warning, then don't complain to me later. It will be gone. Possibly forever. Take your car key, for example. I have found PJ's car key in with the bath toys. I found it right before I dumped all of those toys into the tub. It was a close call for that little electronic key. We've already had issues with that foolish key, so this was a nice save, for sure.

Yesterday, I was getting milk out of the fridge. Charlotte sidled up next to me and started rummaging in the door of the fridge. She pulled Rondo's collar out from behind the mayonnaise and announced, "Oh. That's where I put that." Um, what?

This morning, I was searching high and low for the spray cleaner. I knew I had just used it last night. I couldn't track it down anywhere. I ended up getting a new bottle from the closet and cleaning whatever the latest mess was. Then, I went to get something from the refrigerator and found the bottle of spray cleaner right on the shelf next to the spinach. That's normal, for sure.

The case for my phone was missing for a few days and eventually found with the bath toys. Three remote controls were in the drawers of my dresser. And numerous things have gone missing and have yet to be found. Charlotte is well aware of what she is doing. Usually, I can ask for a missing item and she will go get it (from inside the baby wipes container). She's so busy hiding things, though, that she often forgets where she puts them.


So, please. If you come over to my house, do so at your own risk:



And if you have a name for this compulsive hiding thing, could you let me know? It would be helpful if I ever need to get her treatment. ;)


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Rocking It

How do you know when you're rocking this Monday morning?

• When you have so much difficulty putting on your tights that you're sweaty and out of breath. A sure sign of needing more cardio and some weight loss.
• When you almost crash your car because there is a spider on the ceiling. And then you make your 9 year old kill it. Which he doesn't do successfully. So you drive the rest of your commute waiting for that creepy little bugger to crawl onto your head.
• When you send the 4 year old to school without a jacket. In the pouring rain.
• When you get almost all the way to the babysitter's house before you realize that you put the 2 year old in the car with no shoes. Then you decide to go all the way back home to get them. Even better, you text the babysitter (from a red light) and she offers to lend some of her kids' old shoes that are almost the same size. What a time saver! Better still, at the next red light, the 2 year old points out that her black, patent leather Easter shoes are on the floor of the car. I knew there would be a benefit to having a messy car. Triumph!
• When all of this happens in the 90 minutes it takes to leave your house, drop off the kids at school and go to the babysitter's.

How many more Mondays until school is out for summer?? The countdown is on, baby!



Peace out, homies.
(Photo courtesy of my 10 year old niece who is teaching Charlotte to take peace sign/duckface photos at a nice, early age.)



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Tuesday's Tip (#33)

Here's a tip for you:

Buy some birthday candles.

I bake cakes ALL the time. Most of them are hired jobs, but, you would think that a lady who bakes at least one cake a weekend would have birthday candles in the house, right? I mean, come on. I have five kids. Someone is always having a birthday. Alas, I never remember birthday candles. Which is why my eight year old is blowing out a tea light on her cake. Happy birthday from the cake lady who can't be bothered with more details.



Have a tip to share? Or a pack of birthday candles? Feel free to leave a comment below...

...& be sure to check back every Tuesday for a new tip!

Wordless Wednesday - Teacher Appreciation



I got some teacher appreciation love from the Blue Room. I love my tiny students!



Tuesday's Tip (#32)

Here's a tip for you:

Stop watching Law & Order SVU (or get a chiropractor).

I went for a run a little after it got dark last night. I then spent 30 minutes running and flipping my head back and forth like a lunatic because I was fairly certain that some creep would be sneaking up behind me at any second. It's really not good for my neck. Clearly, I watch too many crime dramas. I was avoiding dark bushes and giving parked cars a wide berth. Hey, at least if I ever get attacked, it won't come as a surprise. Just pray for the poor innocent bystander who tries to share a sidewalk with me. They're going down. (Sorry, old lady.)

And don't make fun of my new rainbow shoes - they rock.

Have a tip to share? Or some pepper spray? Feel free to leave a comment below...

...& be sure to check back every Tuesday for a new tip!

It's Not That Hard

Brace yourselves, dads, because shit's about to get real.

Here it is, your guide to the perfect Mother's Day. Please, bookmark this now and save it as a reference for next year. You can thank me later when I've saved your marriage.

When the kids are little and not quite adept at being responsible for their own Mother's Day gifts, it's up to you dads/significant others/partners to help them out. It's really not all that hard.

With any luck, the school-aged children will come home with some adorable craft to give to mom. Beautiful. Half the battle is already won. If not, grab a few pieces of paper out of the printer, some crayons, and set those little kiddies to work on some homemade cards. Us moms eat that crap right up.

Okay. The cards are handled. Here's the big finale. Walk into your bedroom while mom is still sleeping (but not too early) and give her the big gift. Whisper into her ear, "Honey, I'm taking the kids out for a few hours. You're going to be all alone. Get your nails done. Eat chocolate in bed. Watch crappy tv. Read a book. Take a bath. Do whatever you want. ALL ALONE."

That is all. We adore our children. They are the center of our chaotic little universe. Just please, for the love of all that is good and holy, give us a few hours out of the year to take a freakin' break.

Heed my advice. You'll be the hero of Mother's Day next year.

You're welcome.

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It's My Birthday

Today is my 35th birthday. (Okay, so it was really Wednesday. That's what happens when you have 87 kids and a job and a birthday. You don't really get anything done on time.)

I spent some of the morning commute realizing that I feel pretty old. I really don't understand where time has gone.

19 years ago today, PJ gave me a claddagh ring for my sweet 16. I still wear it every day (even though it no longer fits on my ring finger - damn kids made my hands and feet bigger).

14 years ago, I was sitting at midnight on my 21st birthday having my first legal drink at a bar with my college friends. It was awesome.

10 years ago, I was 25 and pregnant with my first child. I was so excited to be starting my family. Who knew how far we'd go with that idea?

Today, I am the mother of five kids ages 9 1/2 -2 1/2. How the heck did that happen?

Those kinds of things make me feel really old. (That and the fact that my mother called me "middle-aged." Just remember, mom, you officially qualify for a senior discount.)

I might be middle-aged, but I don't really feel like a grown-up yet. I'm not really sure when that will ever happen if it hasn't happened yet. I do grown-up type things. I go to work. I pay bills. I put naughty kids in a time out. 

But it's all a farce. Internally, I'm fairly certain I'm still about 20. I love to blast the music in my car and sing like I'm a rock star. I secretly laugh uncontrollably when a toddler says a bad word. I eat chocolate in bed when my kids are asleep while watching Friends reruns. I share the same sense of humor as my 17 year old niece. (Although, she is a little mature for her age. Her mental age may actually be older than mine.) I get the giggles during meetings at work and have to cough loudly to cover up the fact that I'm about to snort. And I adore Far Side comics. 

So, I'm a middle-aged lady with 87 kids and the mental age of a 20 year old. You know what, though? You're only as old as you feel. As long as I don't start trying to dress like a 20 year old, I think it just makes me more fun.

You can't tell me those aren't funny. If you didn't at least chuckle, we can't be friends anymore. Just saying.

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

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