Snow Snow

We had actual snow here today.
Not just dandruff-sized flakes that floated down with just enough abundance to tease... but real snow.
Golly.

In response to this winter milestone, Donny had to be terrified. All was good and fun for about 3 minutes.. until he saw the snow gathering on the tips of his shoes. Then, suddenly ... "WHAAAAH!! A MESS!!!"
Um.
Ok.
Now the question is, should I be glad I am instilling a sense of orderly cleanliness in my child -- or I should be worried I have created Howard Hughes (but without the money)?

Jason's response to the snow was to prove it isn't a big deal by taking the trash out in his bare feet.
Yeah.
Any other time he would, at minimum, throw his sandals on or say "I caaaan't, I don't have my shoes!"
But today... bare feet were fine. Snow and freezing rain and all.
I'm so proud.

And, in case anyone has been following and wondering... here is the status of the bike that is NOT being destroyed by being left outside:

I'll put up another pic when Spring hits and it is still in this exact location.

Silence is NOT Golden

Maybe I should make Sunday my day to list everything that has pissed me off recently. But I have a feeling it would be the same ev-er-y damn week.

For now, I'll just let you know what that sound was.
It was my head popping off.

And the reason is... because I am forced to have the conversation below every day.
I wish I could say this is a kid-only problem, but quite obviously they have learned this habit from their father.

THE SCENARIO:
I ask a member of the family to do something.
I get no response or indication that my voice did anything other than bounce off the walls.
I wait.
I ask again.
Again, no response.
The next thing that happens is I raise my voice in the attempt to break their computer/tv/video game coma.
They either then get pissed cause they heard me and wonder why I am asking the same thing 3 times.
OR
They get mad cause they didn't hear me and no wonder why I seem to be mad out of nowhere.

I am then forced to ask:
"How am I supposed to know if you heard me or not?"
It doesn't seem to register that if I don't get a respone, how am I supposed to the difference between being heard (but ignored) or not being heard (due to media-coma)?

Later. Rinse. Repeat scenario daily.

A Kid's Point of View

This happened quite a while ago, I admit... but it still kinda sets the tone for the daily mentality, so I thought I'd share.
Here was the conversation:

ME: You guys need to do your chores, it isn't that much. Nobody likes doing chores. Do you think I like doing MY chores?
SARAH: YOU have chores?
ME: Uhhh, yeah... what do you think I am doing when I do dishes and laundry and vacuuming and stuff?
SARAH: I thought you were just cleaning the house!

(facepalm)

My Scary Valentine

I am really not sure what to say about this.
It just... frightens me. With that same creepy crawly feeling you get when you walk in the dentist's office knowing you haven't flossed since 1984...

The Careful Care and Feeding of Sports Equipment

< /on > sarcastic bitterness

Ok.
Carefully evaluate this sentence and see if there is anything confusing about it:
"If you leave your bike outside all the time, you will ruin it."

Did I stump anyone?
Did I toss out words with too many syllables?
Was I vague?
Did I speak in the English tongue?

In the interest of full-disclosure, let me state the other method in which I have tried to convey this message:
"Jason, put your bike away. If you leave it out all the time it will get ruined by rain and sun and ice and snow and rain and sun...."

Anyone?
Anyone?
Bueller?

Wait.
What was that?
You say you UNDERSTOOD what I said???

That is astounding.
Because I have to say, I thought it was possible I speaking some rare Hungarian dialect. After all, I have said that phrase repeatedly over the past...oh... year.
Yet the bike never gets put away.

And now... guess what?

(Oh common... you can do it. Put your thinking cap on.)

Yep.
Chain rusted and fallen off.

Yesterday Jason said in an oh-so-innocent voice: "Should I just put my bike out for the trash?"

Of course I wouldn't let him, and I again pressed that if he had just put it away....
But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (Steve Martin voice)....
I just don't understand. Never being put away is NOT the reason the chain is now rusted, broken, and fallen off. It just BROKE! Apparently I don't get it... the chain just rusted and broke. It has nothing to do with the fact it lived outside in every possible weather condition.

(clear throat)

Oh... and in case you are wondering.... the bike is still lying on its side in the yard -- in the same exact place it has been for the past several months.
I guess a rusted chain isn't enough.
We're gonna go for something REALLY big... like fully-corroded handlebars and a split-open seat.

I would ponder the reason he doesn't care is that he will now just use his skateboard... but he has already ruined that (and his sister's) using the same "Putting things away is too boring" method of sports-equipment care.

It's too bad adults and/or stepmothers are so dumb.
Otherwise they might do something useful... like provide advice on how to keep a bike from being destroyed.


sarcastic bitterness < /off >

It's Raining Frogs

Twenty minutes ago I wouldn't have been surprised if the roof opened up, thunder roared, and frogs started raining down in my kitchen.

The Scene:
Sarah and I were innocently preparing a lovely chicken pot pie using my oh-so-nifty DS Cooking Trainer. We were approaching a critical stage of preparation -- that delicate balance between simmering and boiling -- when... suddenly... the clouds parted.

In the interest of clarity, I shall list the disasters in the order of their appearance:

(1) I reach in the fridge to grab milk for the pie filling and accidentally pop the top of the sideways-laying apple cider jug. It commences to spew fruity stickiness over every shelf (it was on the top of course) and form an impressive puddle on the floor.
(2) Donny, seeing the fridge door open, runs over and starts pointing and yelling "Gee GUT! GEE GUT!!!!". Having no clue what he is saying.. and in the midst of trying to remove every item from the fridge, I attempt to ignore him.
(3) He comes closer to the puddle and I have a sudden flash of sticky toddler footprints filling the house. (Because, of course, the time a toddler would decide to run through every room of the house at an unprecedented pace is immediately after stepping in something difficult to clean.)
(4) Sopping paper towels in hand, I try to block his path. "GEE GUTT!! GEE GUTT" he is crying....
(5) In the other room, baby Thomas starts to howl.
(6) Sarah and I try to block it out while alternately grabbing items from the fridge, soaking up cider, moving "GEE GUT" Donny away from the fridge, and rushing over to stir the pot-pie filling before it boils over.
(7) "GEE GUT!!!" "GEE GUTTTT (crrryyyyyyyy) GEE GUTT!!!!!"
(8) "Whaaaaaaaahhhhh" continues to emanate from the other room.
(9) "GEEEEEEEE GUTTTTT!!!!!!!!"
(10) Paper towels... water.... lysol wipes... stir pot...
(11) Helpful husband in other room: "Can you bring a bottle out here for Thomas?"
(12) Sarah starts on the bottle. I juggle the fridge and the stove.
(13) "Donny!! What do you WANT!!!!??!?!?" I ask him, my head ready to pop off.
"GEE GUT!!" he cries tearfully again and again...
(14) "Where is the bottle?" Helpful husband yells.
(15) (whimpering tears) "Geeeee gutttt!!"
(16) I look at the counter. Somehow the bottle that was in progress has been abandoned. I grab it and rush to put formula in it.
(17) (sad crying) "Gee guttttttt!!" he points at the lower shelves of the fridge.
"Cheese?" I ask hopefully as I grab for a bottle ring and nipple? "NOOOOOO!!! GEE GUT!!!" Sarah pushes him away from the puddle of stickiness yet to be tackled.
(18) I quickly sigh and attempt to put the top on the bottle. It bounces off and lands..... right in the middle of the cider puddle.
(19) "WHAAAAAHHHH" Thomas yells.
(20) "GEE GUT!!"
(21) "Sarah, stir the pot!"
(22) "Where is the bottle???"
(23) "Donny get away from there!!!"
(24) "GEE GUT!!!"

(Let us pause to reflect on the fact that Helpful Husband was, at least, holding Thomas. Jason, however, continued to sit in the middle of the living room on the Wii Fit Balance Board complaining that there was too much noise for him to concentrate on not blowing the Zen-candle out with his butt.) (It's something you gotta see.)

RESUME SCENE:
(25) "GEE GUT!"
(26) "Donny, get away... I don't know what you want!" I search for another bottle nipple.
(27) Bottle finally ready, I deliver it to Helpful Husband and screaming baby Thomas.
(28) I toss cider-soaked, two-year-old fridge food into the trash and stir the pot.
(29) Donny continues to point frantically at the lower shelves of the fridge. "GEE GUT!!!" he cries pitifully.
(30) Fridge now more or less cleaned out, Sarah works on pouring the milk (remember, this is how it all started) in the pie-filling pan and stirring.
(31) "Geeeee guttt"
(32) I stand over him. "What????? What do you want!!??? Show me." He points.
(33) "Cheese?" I ask again. "Noooooooo."
(34) He points again.
(35) I pause. There is no way that THIS is what he has been trying to say....
(36) "Yogurt?" I ask tentatively?
(37) "YETH!!!" he says happily... stopping to wipe tears from his face, happy that mommy has stopped being such a moron.
(38) "Sarah, put that stuff back in the fridge now."
(39) I stir the pot and head to the table with yogurt and a spoon. Donny stands by me helpless, too traumatized by his efforts to eat at his seat -- he needs to sit in my lap.
(40) Donny in lap... Thomas being fed.... an entire roll of paper towels decimated... fridge being re-loaded... and pot being stirred... (oh yeah, and Jason not disturbed from his Wii-Fit)... the clouds finally begin to dissipate.

Sarah is now clasping her head and asking for a tylenol.
I think I'll join her.
And I'll add a wine-chaser.

My New Assistant

Ah ha!
I have a slave flunky assistant today!!!

We have warned Jason on numerous occasions that his tendency to oversleep and race for the bus exactly 14 seconds before it arrives is going to get him into trouble.

We are O-V-E-R the "I didn't hear the alarm"/"The alarm didn't go off"/"I had the alarm set for PM instead of AM"/and other various "It's not my fault" excuses.
I've told him the "user error" alarm issue has run it's course, and he needs to start setting more than one alarm if he has such problems.
After all he only has, like, 3 or 4 clocks. Trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, we kept giving him more clocks in hopes THOSE alarms would work.

It's to the point where he's had more warnings than Brangelina has kids.

He's had so many warnings, in fact (all unheeded), that we finally had to tell him that he and he alone is now responsible for getting himself up for school. We are not going to continue to be his alarm clock after he ignores the one he has set.
He was told if he misses the bus we are not going to take him to school. (I know, this sounds great... but wait....)
AND... we will not give him a note, therefore anything he missed that day will get a failing grade.
(Or so we assume. With this "No Child Left Behind" bullcrap they might just give him an "A" on everything anyway. ...But that is a rant for another day...)
He also, of course, does not get to sit around all day drooling in front of the tv.

So, this morning... the school bus came and went... and he was still downstairs sawing logs.

So now, I have an assistant.
He (with supervision) is in charge of the babies.
He is gonna feed, change, and rock the baby.... change and get food and such for the toddler... watch SPROUT channel all day, and, in general get so annoyed by the fact he is the all-day babysitter that he will not want to "accidentally" oversleep or miss the bus again.

I've already gotten a few sighs and "woe is me" looks from him... so the plan may be working.
We'll see.

Maybe I should go get a massage....