SchlegelRock

If you haven’t heard my complaints before about lunchtime you’re about to get an eye full.  Which is totally funny because I only have one at home now but it still effects me the same way.  I hate lunchtime.  I hate it with a passion so fierce I can feel it tightening my chest even now just thinking about it.  Why, you ask?  I’m not sure what the root causes are but I have come to loathe lunchtime more than any other time of the day.  And you know how much I hate mornings so I’m being real serious here.

I guess it started when Max was little and he would start asking me about lunch time starting at 10 am and then every five minutes after that until noon.  Add another kid and it’s another mouth asking when lunchtime is at ridiculous intervals.  Then the third comes.  Oh my gosh.  If one of them isn’t asking the other two are.  It’s non stop.  And yes, I do feed them snacks so they’re not starving.  Thank goodness I finally drilled it into the older two’s heads to watch the clock.  Stop asking me and look at the stinking clock.  Is it 12:00?  No?  Then it’s not lunchtime.

Then lunchtime actually comes and all I hear is, “I want a peanut butter and honey sandwich,” “I want a turkey sandwich,” “I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,”  ”I want cheese bread,” “I want grilled cheese,” “I want a cheese sandwich.”  Can you hear me screaming?  Because I am.  No one ever wants the same thing.  Do I look like a short order cook?  Because I’m not.  I am a loving mother who wants to make sure her children are fed but who would like to make one type of sandwich a day.  That’s all I’m asking.  One type.  Not four (Jessica our neighbor has been with us this Summer).

I even tried making one type of sandwich per day but it didn’t stop the little voices.  ”But I want turkey.  Why can’t I have turkey?”  ”I don’t want peanut butter!”  ”I said I wanted two squares one rectangle and a triangle.”  ”His squares are bigger than mine.”

And don’t even get me started on the shapes they want their sandwiches cut into.  Someone who shall remain nameless actually took cookie cutters and cut shapes out of their sandwiches for them so of course that’s what they want me to do.  I am not Martha Stewart people.  I’m not even grandma.  I’m mom and I cut in half.  That’s what I do.

So a month ago I finally wised up and started making the older three make their own sandwiches.  That way they can make whatever they want and cut it into a bajillion pieces if that’s what their hearts desire.  And now that the school year has started I’m going to let Max and Tru make their own lunches the night before so they can do whatever they like with their sandwiches.  Genius, if I do say so myself.

It’s looks like everything is taken care of right? Well, I’m writing this post because at 9:30 this morning Oli came into my room and asked if it was lunchtime.  I just about lost it.  I guess it’s time to start teaching him how to read the clock.  Poor kid has no idea his mom has so much built up anger about the subject.  But I am not a short order cook people.  I love being a mom but I do not love making four different types of sandwiches and cutting them in four different shapes.  I have my limits.

Now I’ll take a deep breath and try to put this all behind me.  There’s just one more kid to train.

I know there’s something that you have to do as a mom or a wife that drives you absolutely batty.  And it comes up almost everyday if not everyday.  I know I’m not alone.  What is it?

Update:  Even if you’re not a mom or a wife there’s gotta be something that makes you nuts.  We wanna know.

Once upon a time there was a fair maiden who had a brand new Pilot.  She loved her Pilot so much.  She used to have a van, which she also loved, that had a handy little tissue dispenser that hung from the passenger side seat.  This tissue dispenser did not fit in the Pilot.  She despaired and thought, “What will I do that I may have tissue in my new car?”  Alas, one day the thought came to her that she should just throw the tissue box in the center console.  It might not look very pretty, but you never know when you will need a tissue.

The next day the gorgeous maiden and her super fabulous son were driving back from Safeway when the little one cried out in agony, “Mommy, open my door!”  ”I can’t open your door,” said the majorly hot maiden, “I’m driving.”  ”There’s a booger on my finger!” said the sweet, helpless little boy.  Our dear heroine reached into the center console and handed her spectacular child a much needed tissue.

The smart, intuitive maiden recognized the beauty of following the prompting of the day before and vowed to always (well, as much as possible) follow the promptings she receives in the future.  The day and the car were saved.  

And there was much rejoicing!

Now I know what you’re thinking and no, I’m not drunk.  Yes, I am on drugs, but only the ones my Dr. gave me.  I know I’m not over here much and I thought you might be feeling neglected so I thought I’d share a story with you.  It’s hard work trying to get a blog off the ground so I’ve been spending most of my time over at Blog the Day Away.  Please forgive me and know that I’m tying to find more things to write about.  Thanks for hanging in there with me.  I really do love blogging.  I’ve just got to find some balance between my two blogging loves.

Want to know what mine is?  For sure it’s our couch.  We bought it when we were first married and have loved it every day since.  I spent a grand total of nine months of bed rest on that puppy.  The color is a beautiful cranberry/wine and the leather is as soft as butter.  Want to know where we got it?  JC Penney.  Yeah, can you believe it?  It’s held up almost nine years now and we have not a single complaint about it.  Not one.  

Now, I’m afraid we’re going to see some wear soon because the kids use it as a jungle gym.  I know there are some of you out there that are appalled at that but we live in a tiny condo.  There are very few places for the kids to horse around so we allow them to jump on our furniture.  So even they love our couch.  It’s our meeting place.  Where we hang out and it’s served us well.

So, what’s your favorite purchase?  Your home, your car, your cell, your vacuum, the haircut you got when you were 17 and haven’t been able to replicate since?  Come on, tell me.

Why is that?  Why do I have three potty trained children that cannot keep the pee in the toilet?  At friend’s houses, at school, in the car, in the dining room, at the park!!!  Holy crap.  If they would even give me one minutes warning I could at least get them to a bush.  Just kidding.  I would at least get them off of my carpet.  I guess the one’s where there is a bathroom in the same building is the one that baffles me the most.  And yes, it is all three of them that are currently peeing in their pants.  I’m about to have a nervous breakdown.  One of them actually said to me today that he peed at school but didn’t tell anyone and is still wearing the same pants.  I guess that might be OK if it was the first time.  This happened last week also.  Is there a puddle of pee under his chair just waiting to be stepped in?  Did he only pee a tiny bit so it really wasn’t a big deal?  I don’t know the answers to these questions.  This has been going on for three weeks now.  Every time I turn around at least one of them has peed somewhere other than the toilet.  I’m baffled, I’m perplexed, I’m sick of cleaning up pee.  But I digress.  I know in a few weeks I’ll have a clean and tidy house, car, classroom, park, etc.  and I’ll forget all about this.

 I just thought you might like a change of pace from the election so I decided to throw all my garbage on you.  Thanks for letting me vent.  I mean there’s nothing I can do, right?  It’s just a passing phase, right?  I look at those angels and think “Why are they doing this?” and I have no answers.  Oh well.  Has this happened to you?

My friend Clisty posted a challenge on her blog to get real with your mess and post some pictures of your own.  Scott keeps our house clean so there aren’t too many places where I’m actually able to make a mess but I found two that I could show you.

The first is of my shoes.  I like to kick my shoes off when I’m done with them.  I personally like them in a pile on the floor. It just feels good to me but in light of this challenge I’m showing you how nice my shoes can look if I just organize them.  

They do look nice and tidy.  I’ve actually kept them this way for about two weeks now.  Yeah, me.

Then we have one cupboard in our bathroom that I am in charge of.  As you can see bottles are falling on top of bottles and there are pads falling out all over.  I can even see the underwear they gave me at the hospital when Oli was born.  What are those even doing in there?

Here’s our beautiful cupboard sans underwear and all nice and neat.  I will admit I like it better this way.  Although I could find whatever I wanted before I will do my best to keep my cupboard well organized.

Then I don’t have any before pictures for you but this is what our kids room looked like when we were going through our closets.  We had all sorts of baby stuff that we were storing plus all of my big clothes that I was too afraid to give away.  We had to lay down the seats in the back of the car and just filled it full of bags and bags of stuff we didn’t need but hope someone else can use.

So there it is Clisty.  Those are my messes.  Not the everyday trash the house messes but the staring me in the face for years messes.  Btw, Scott sends a big “Thank you.”

I was on the treadmill yesterday with the kids in the front room watching a movie. All of a sudden Oli and Tru come in my room with these big eyes and I couldn’t figure out what they wanted so I told them to go back out to the living room. They wouldn’t budge. Finally, I raised my voice a little and told them they needed to go out and watch their movie. Tru started walking out and then stopped in my doorway and stared at me with terrified eyes. That’s when it finally hit me. Someone was in my house! I turned off the treadmill heart racing and walked slowly out my door. There was a woman.  I relaxed momentarily until all of a sudden she started yelling at me. “I am going to call the cops on you. How dare you be on the treadmill and not taking care of your kids. I’m an old woman and look at me I have goose bumps. How dare you. You should be taking care of your kids. etc.” Needless to say, I was shocked. I had no idea what to do with this stranger standing in my living room yelling at me. What I finally gathered through the screaming is that Oli and Tru had gone out to the street to throw sticks at cars. They were also collecting sticks out of the street. This woman drove past and it scared the begeebers out of her so she yelled at them and followed them home to yell at me. When she finally left the house I called Scott in complete hysterics and he thankfully talked me down to a calmer place. So I get that she was worried. I really get that. When I found out they were outside playing in the street I was quite upset. What I don’t get is why she thought it was appropriate to walk in to my home uninvited and yell at me.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been yelled at either. Once I was yelled at because someone felt my children were walking too far away from me while we were walking home from the bus stop. That was some fierce screaming of obscenities. Then there was the time it was raining and I took my kids to the Target parking structure to ride their scooters in the covered second floor where NOBODY goes. The security guard didn’t even stop his truck to yell out the window about how dangerous this was and how dare I. The nice thing about that one is that he actually came back and apologized for yelling at us. I completely get that these people are concerned about my children’s wellbeing, but when is it OK just to yell at someone? Isn’t a rational conversation more appropriate?

Have you ever been yelled at because of something your kids are doing or is this just a knack of mine?

btw Max took this picture of me tearing my hair out in my favorite Harry and the Potters shirt.

OK, so I need to vent.  I don’t get road rage in the extreme sense.  No wanting to run into anyone’s car or even shout profanities (it doesn’t count when it’s in your head right).  But I do take issue with people who park in the fast lane.  If you look ahead of you and the road is empty and you look behind you and there’s a line… it’s time to get over.  I’m no Danica but if there’s an open road, I like to cover it as quickly as possible.  Please, please let me.