Hey Kids! Check out this mushroom!

Yesterday I celebrated 15 years of motherhood.  Do I get a badge or like a free meal or something?  At least a card for my wallet or a discount on Tylenol?

I started the day by napping on the couch with my snuggly 8 month old daughter that I was woken from by a particularly insane nightmare.  A pink & black tarantula with razor legs that sliced my cats face and then gave birth to some really UGLY kittens was in my kitchen.  For clarity - the tarantula did the birthing, not my cat.  Cleaning my 8 & 4 year old sons bedroom then followed.  I was putting off mowing as looooooooooong as possible.

My procrastination was for good reason.  Or reasons in this case.  I've only mowed a lawn like twice in all my 33 years.  My yard now is quite large.  Most of my neighbors all have riding mowers.  Last year I was pregnant so I got a pass.  I hired some guy who tried very hard to soak me of money.  My old yard was maybe 50-60 feet.  It shouldn't cost me $100 every 2 weeks to have it mowed.  ANYWAY.......... I digress.  The mower hasn't been started in ages.  I can't get it started.  I'm just not very mechanical like that.  I've since determined that it's broken.  It involves duct tape.  LOL.  (Did someone hear Jeff Foxworthy?)  WOOHOO.  My sister offered to let me borrow hers.  The fun begins.

Getting the mower into my minivan - Task #1.  My sister lives on a steep hill.  Getting the mower OUT of the garage was the easy part.  It sailed quite quickly down the hill and almost into the street.  (sshhhhh!)  I open the back door and move some seats forward, hop in it and attempt to pull it into the van.  Uh, notsomuch.  Then I got out and picked it up trying to not touch blades.  I tried to push it.  That didn't work either.  I can feel eyes on me now.  The neighbors are staring.  Everyone is looking at me.  Watching.  Laughing.  Finally, I got it in!  I got home and proceeded to try to gently get the derned thing out of the van.  I dropped it.  (sssssshhhhhh!)  I've never felt so "on the spot" before.  Everyone is outside.  There's a party going on across the street.  Now there are more people watching than I want.  I really don't want anyone to watch.  I feel stupid.  But alas, I must mow!  I checked the gas - full.  I primered - 3 times per the instructions!.  I hold the stupid handle...... and PULL.  Nothing happens.  And again with the pulling.  The mower mocks me.  And again.  Now people are looking again.  And pointing.  And I can hear their whispering.  I move to the garage so that I am no longer a spectacle.  And it still won't start.  I text my sister - "How do you start this thing?  There wasn't a key!"  (I was kidding about the "key" part) She calls from Amish Country.  Walks me thru - then The Oldest joins the party.  Together we started the mower!

My one neighbor is TERRIFIED that I am going to hurt his car.  Dude - it's a Dodge.  Not a Porsche.  Get over yourself.  We live in suburbia.  Seriously, I'm not going to damage your sweet ride.  He moved his car.  Whatever dude.  Anyway... So I start mowing.  Seems easy enough.  I really wish people would STOP watching me.  I feel like I'm a Macy's float.  It really feels like I should be waving to those around me.  I need a mowing Tiara.  The mower stalls and I'm struggling to get it started again.  Here come some neighborhood children to ask me questions.  I just want them to shut up and go away.  I don't want them to draw attention to the fact that I have NO flippin clue what I'm doing.  So I play it off as though I have to pee so I can go investigate the source of the stall out without an audience.  And I'm back in business!

  Once I finished the front lawn I was ready to move to the back.  At least there the judging eyes of neighbors and passersby would be gone.  This is where it gets tough.  I'm mowing dandelions.  The clippings come out of a side chute right into a gust of wind and all over me.  They are wet which adds to the experience.  I now know why mowing should be done in pants.  I ran over a patch of mushrooms and had the same outcome.  I feel so gross right now.  As I mow the parameter of my backyard I am noticing little things about it that I didn't see before.  A rut here, a strange patch of grass there....  When I come across this large, whitish flattened mushy thing that was bright orange on the inside.  It's the strangest looking mushroom I've ever seen!  I make a mental note to show the kids.

I finish and turn around - I feel all accomplished and proud.   It feels great!  I did it.  Oh and I purposely didn't mow the side lawn that I share with my neighbors driveway out of spite (and the mower stalled again).  Then I remembered.  "Hey kids!  Check out this mushroom!!!!"  As I approached the mushroom I was so excited to see the looks on their faces.  I made it to the spot in the yard and just as I started to call for the kids a second time I nudged it with my foot.  A wave of the realization of stupidity came over me. It was a moldy orange one of the kids left out in the yard last week. 

Let's keep this between us.

And I still don't know what it is...

I fancy myself somewhat of a Do-It-Yourselfer when it comes to car repairs, home improvement tasks and most everything that is not of the electrical pursuation.  Some things I'm pretty good at.  Some things I need some more practice with and some things are straight up over my head. 

Over the weekend I encountered one such obstacle.  For the first time in about 8 or 9 years I have a fireplace.  Let me tell you that I am head over heels in love with this fireplace.  It makes me happy to sit there holding my little girl in the rocking chair, warming my tootsies, sipping hot cocoa by glowing embers.  Talk about relaxation!  Maybe someday, when I meet a man brave enough, I'll share it with someone special.  One downside to this awesome feature of my new home is the care and maintenance of said fireplace. 

Currently, I am without a fireplace kit.  No poker.  No shovel.  No strange little brush.  Of course this does not deter me from using the fireplace.  Ever.  I'm a whiz at improv!  So I needed to clean out some of the ashes in the fireplace.  I find this to be a tedious job using an empty box of Little Debbie Star Crunch's and an empty speculum box (what?  My sister works for a gynocologist and she saved me some boxes).  As I am scooping up ashes with the star crunch box and pouring them into the empty speculum box I make a discovery.  There, in the bottom of my fireplace, is a trap door.  It's about the size of a mail slot.  And it's right there in the floor. 

I press on it and it opens.  I can't really see anything in it either.  My ex conveniently took most of the tools and the flashlights (not that it would help since the kids like to run the batteries down in them anyway.)This is when The Oldest offers his suggestion.  "Put your hand in it and see if you can pull out the DaVinci Code."  Yes- that's my kid!  He's gonna make some woman so proud someday.  I, of course, decline.  Instead, I drop some ashes down in it.  Then I got to wondering where it leads to and what it's for and maybe putting ashes in it is a bad idea.  So I closed it back up and went about my business.  My dad has been gone for roughly almost 8 years.  Can't call him.  Everyone else I know suggests I google it.  I am sure that it has to be some kind of storage for ashes but I can't be 100% sure.  If it is - um where does it lead to?  Do I have to clean it out?  Is there any other way of opening it without getting burned. 

Most importantly, WHAT IS IT???

Motherhood - Only The Strong Survive

I wrote this quite a while ago..........


(Here I go again.  For the 4th time)
Here are a few things I want to say about Motherhood.


1.  I do not want to be urinated, defecated, snotted, vomitted, spit or farted on.  It's a thing I have about not wanting DISGUSTING touching me.  So why can't they all aim the other way?


2.  Sleep.  Sleep is meant to be done in consecutive hours and until you are rested.  I would like to engage in this activity.  I sleep in 1.5 hour increments.  Sleep is imperative to my functionability, ability to get through the day, and overall mood and demeanor.  Want me to be nicer?  Let me sleep.  For at least 5 hours.  Please?  Also, pee or vomit in your own bed.  Why?  Because it is easier to change your sheets.  Toddler bed/crib mattress vs. Queen sized bed with memory foam mattress pad at 3 am?  I'll pick the little ones please.


3.  I don't want to use the toilet to an audience.  When I pee - picture it - I have to pee, wipe while keeping the tp away from the baby then stand up, flush and pull my pants up all simultaneously then quickly land a foot on top of the toilet to keep baby hands out of the pot.  Also, wait to ask me life's important questions until I am out of the bathroom.  Don't sit outside of the door asking the following:  What am I doing, when am I going to be done, can I change the channel, can you watch a movie, can you have a snack, where the remote is, where your shoes are, or tell me that you have to pee.  We have 2 bathrooms - utilize that!


4.  Food.  Your food belongs in your mouth.  Where food does NOT belong:  In your brothers hair, on the floor, in the carpet, in the bathroom, in the basket of clean laundry, in the printer, on the computer, on the tv, behind or underneath the furniture, in or on the couch cushions, in your bedroom, on the stairs or in the hallway.  Here are a list of things that are not food products for your eating pleasure:  Change, band aids, baby wipes, pens, pencils, markers, my contact case, my glasses, eye drops, anything in my make-up bag, toilet paper, anything that you have in your toy box and cat food. 


5.  I am not a mind read, code talker, translator or Steven Hawking.  I cannot understand what you are saying mid squelch.  Take 5 then tell me what atrocity your brother committed.  Breathe before you try to explain what toy you just stepped on that I have asked you to pick up 100 times already.  Calm down.  I'd have better luck deciphering Lassie's bark then what a child is saying while screaming.


6.  List of things that your brother is not:  Invisible, invincible, immortal, a battering ram, a trampoline, a gun to shoot any substance or object, a slinky, a gymnast, Superman, Freddy Kreuger, balance beam, home gym, remote control, robot, animals of any sort, target practice, punching bag or object of revenge. 


7.  I am not really Wonder Woman. Seriously, I have only one head, heart and brain.  Freakishly I was born deformed for motherhood.  I came with only 2 arms, 2 legs, 2 ears and 1 body.  I have to make due with what God gave me.  Unlike Ben's mom I can't be in two places at once, part the Red Sea or pull baked goods from any of my orafices.  You'll have to survive on what I am.  Sorry. 


8.  Showering is my 10 minutes alone.  Keep it that way.  Crying outside of the bathroom door is annoying.  Stop it.  Don't bother me unless the house is on fire.  At least I will have the water to douse the fire with.  Go annoy your father.  he doesn't get a fraction of it that I do.  Go punish him for a few minutes.


9.  The television gets more than Disney, Noggin, Cartoon Network and the Sci Fi Channel.  It will not explode if your mother takes control of the remote.


10.  Most of all, I love my kids more than anything in the world.  I wouldn't trade them for anything.  Even when they go on haircut strikes, wear clothes that not only don't match but don't even fit, tell me that I can't dance or sing and to be normal in front of their friends, explain to teachers that they are going to need years of therapy after being raised by us, pull my hair, tell me they hate me and commit the above offenses repeatedly and without remorse.  They are still my babies and I wouldn't have it any other way.