Thursday, May 31, 2012

One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

We are on day 3 of summer vacation, and I am already losing my ever-loving mind! It turns out that the mess makers, chaos inducers and instigators of noise are indeed my oldest two dudes. Everywhere I turn there is trouble brewing: laundry reproducing sporadically, food disappearing mysteriously, little two crying and tattling that the big two did something or other, things leaving their designated "homes" and appearing in the middle of the floor without assistance from people (because nobody claims the offense!). I've come into the kitchen after killing myself on the treadmill to find a Rice Krispie explosion, the gallon of milk warming itself on the table, cereal bowls full of soggy cereal sans of an snap, crackle, or pop waiting to be addressed...and always somebody's stinky socks discarded under my table! For the love of dirt! Do I look like the maid?!?! (seriously, don't answer that...actually, if Lt Hubby was here, a French maid's outfit would be quite enticing...wait, I digress!)

Don't get me wrong, the other's contribute to my craziness-er frustration- just as much as the smelliest-er biggest two. If I find one more haphazardly discarded sucker stick I'm going to boycott the "Dum-Dum" company! They appear in the most random of places; in between the couch cushions, in the diaper basket, stuck to baby brother's play mat, in my plant! What's wrong with the garbage receptacle?? The concept actually keeps me up at night! Why am I the only family member that remembers where the garbage can is??? I pick up wrappers of all kinds of wonderful treats just lying on my floor and in the backyard: tootsie roll wrappers, fruit snack bags, Mr. Freezie tubes, Popsicle sticks! Apparently, I forgot to cover "waste management" in our summer orientation!

The atrocities don't stop there! The closet fiasco actually gives me involuntary eye twitches! Shirts hanging sloppily by one sleeve or clipped into pants' hangars; underwear EVERYWHERE ( do they know what's clean or dirty?!!!); here's a sock, there's a sock, everywhere a sock SOCK!; clothes jammed into dresser drawers preventing the possibility of said drawer closing. I'm not sure why I even fold their clothes. I could simply dump all clean laundry in the middle of their floor and let them dig for whatever they desire on that given day. It could be like a treasure hunt! Saves me time!!

Speaking of treasure hunts, why do I always have to hunt for the remote control? Where can it possibly go?! But nobody ever knows the answer to that question. All I want to do is turn on my dvr'd episode of "Keeping Up With the Kardashians" and unwind, but I am never able to win at this torturous game of hide and seek! And of course no one is ever to blame...they actually blamed their dad this most recent time for the missing remote. WTH!?! We all know where Lt Hubby has been for the last almost 13 months now...AWOL!!!

And last but certainly not least, let's not forget my sometimes overlooked sixth child, Itwasn'tme. He seems to emerge when all of my fabulous five are together, and it turns out he is one heck of a trouble maker! He leaves hats, hoodies and stuffed animals in the dirt; his nut-cup is always on my steps or middle of the floor; he broke the kick-stand on his brother's bike and busted my sprinkler; while he was playing in the garage, he dumped out all the of the sidewalk chalk and squished it; and last night he spilled juice on the just-recently-shampooed carpet. I feel a spanking coming on but I can never catch him in the act. It-wasn't-me is my sneakiest one yet!

What's a mom to do?! No one else seems to be phased in the least by the afore mentioned disasters. Suddenly, a short stay in solitary confinement doesn't sound so bad...just leave me with the darn remote and a glass (or bottle, whatever) of wine, and I'll be good to go! OR send Lt Hubby home and we can put that French maid's outfit to better use!

Friday, May 25, 2012

Back In The Saddle

I know what you're thinking...but no, Lt hubby isn't home. Stand down soldier...Zorro will ride again soon enough! What I AM talking about requires a lot less mmm's and ahh's and a whole lot more ohh's and uggg's. I've been sweating and panting, and panting and sweating...and none of it has left me in a very euphoric state of mind. Oh I am still plenty light-headed once the deed is done, but the work it took to get that "after glow" was a lot more "work" and a lot less "fun" than the other thing I know you're thinking!

Creating, and the subsequent housing of said creation, for 40 weeks takes a toll on one's body...well, not just any took a toll on me, my body...and I'm not fond of the "new" body that was bestowed upon me after my loving creation fled the premises. I realize every mama has to deal with the aftermath of "creation", but we don't have to like, love it, or want more of it! I'm on a mission to bid adieu to the new and a hello to the old. Unfortunately that mission takes a lot, LOT longer than I would like. I'm an immediate gratification kind of girl!

I've dusted off my treadmill and workout DVDs and have made a delayed New Year's resolution: "Get in Shape, girl!" (please, tell me some of you remember that particular product from our youth!!). I'm ready to kick butt and take names...unfortunately my mind and body have different ideas. My muscles are stiff, inflexible, and a little creaky. No pain, no gain is my daily mantra because I can barely move! This tin lady needs some oil! I'm pretty sure my leg muscles atrophied during pregnancy because touching my toes seems to be an impossible feat (I blame this on the inability to reach them for 7 months...I just simply quit trying...and now, I'm paying the price!). And my abs give an audible groan when I attempt to challenge their resistance to "bounce back". The a** seems to have gone south for the winter and is refusing my phone calls, and my once shapely arms are flapping more than I would like to admit.

It's truly a sad state of affairs in my kingdom especially since my oldest warned me not to break a hip as I attempt to reclaim my inner athlete. So bring on the squats and lunges, welcome in the push-ups and pull-ups, and I will greet the treadmill with a smile. I have clothes to get back into, after all...clothes for which Lt. hubby has spent some hard-earned money! Plus, swimsuit season is on parade around the corner...and it scares the hell out of me! No child should be subjected to the pale whale beached at the edge of the pool! As I search to find the most flattering, miracle bathing suit (for $200!!), I comtemplate the idea of a head-to-toe alternative. Truly, there's nothing in this world that can crush a mama's self esteem like trying on a swimsuit.

So sweat shall be my new body spray; grunting, groaning, and gasping for air will be echoing from my basement; the zumba will beckon my name...Brazilian butt-lift will be my friend...and flirty girl fitness better guarantee results!

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Maybe...Just Maybe

I've been doubting my mothering skills, or lack there of, lately. While hubby has been away, I've had several individuals (I'm sure completely well meaning albeit incredibly annoying) inform me of the many, many things that I'm doing wrong. The who's, what's, when's, where's, why's, and how's are all addressed, picked apart, and informed how to do differently...correctly. The hits have come from every angle leaving nothing to chance. Every part of who I am and how I'm doing life has been observed and torn apart.

Being a self-professed people pleaser, I am not one to ever disagree with or correct. Basically...I just take it! And then boil and stew over it later. I'll be the first to confess that I have most assuredly screwed my kids up to the point of necessary intervention and therapy in later years. Mistakes, blunders, and faux pas happen daily in my house...and mostly by me. I'm cranky, moody, temperamental, and kind of bossy. It's true...just nod along (ask my hubby...but I'm certain he will answer 'no' to that question mainly because he hates the dog house). But I'm "mom" (and "dad" for the last year and counting) and all things -ALL THINGS- run through me. I mean...I AM running an empire of one-day kings, I have lots to do!

With all that goes into my 5 princes, I admit some things fall through the cracks. I like to refer to it as "picking my battles", but to the outsider it must look like slacking off, and when that judgemental you-know-better-than-that glance or "I told you so" demeanor slaps me in the face, I doubt my track record in this game of life. I recount everything I've done wrong as a mama, every moment that was less than angelic, every growl directed at my child, every frozen meal or drive thru supper I've divied out to my crew. All of it makes me doubt my success at mothering...maybe God gifted the wrong mama with these boys. Raising boys into men is no easy task, after all, and I may be messing them up.

But every now and then, something brings me back, centers my thoughts, and squeezes my heart; a random snuggle from a 9 year old that's growing up way too quickly, goobery kisses from my 5 year old that can't seem to get his fill of "loves", the unconditional smile from my 4 month old when I look at him, a 3 year old that "needs" mommy to kiss every single owie because it makes it better......or an "I love you" from my 13 year the baseball front of the other players. Yes, I've made plenty of mistakes and am bound to make hundreds more, but I think my princes are my ultimate success. A teenage boy proclaiming "I love you" to his mom in her minivan seems pretty victorious to me.

Maybe I'm not the one that's here for them...maybe they are here for me...

Saturday, May 19, 2012

I Ain't Too Proud To Beg

Becoming a new mommy, no matter if it's the 1st, 5th or 10th (dear God, please don't bless me with 10!), brings with it the dreaded all-nighters, late-nighters, no-nighters and whatever else you want to call the sleep deprivation cycle. It starts the moment that little blessing rips a hole through your "secrets". No honeymoon phase allowed...let the sleep-less nights begin! Those demanding little bundles of joy have zero care about the hour(s) of night and even less care about your need for uninterrupted sleep. All they care about is "me", "me", "me".

Good thing God created this to be a joint-force effort between the mother AND the father...wait...I almost got through that without choking on my coffee beans! This particular duty should have been agreed upon before one said "I do" because more often than not, according to any women I have ever talked to, the night-time duties fall on the "To Do" list of the mama. No 50/50 split in responsibility, no turn taking; just "good night, love you, see you in the morning" and the hubby sneaks quietly off to the comforts of laying horizontally in a cushy, soft bed. Jerks!

Sleep deprivation in and of itself is torture enough, but when you add to it all of the other daily tasks as wife and mother, life becomes borderline insanity dipped in delusion sauce. At that point, the only humane thing is to put the poor woman down...if for only an hour of uninterrupted, horizontal sleeping! There has been many a night when trudging through the hells of infant induced sleep deprivation that I have begged, pleaded, and bartered with God to grant me an hour or two of sleep. I've even offered Him sacrifice if that is what He needed to grant me the sweet relief of sleep. Of course, the soul I am always willing to sacrifice belongs to the man sleeping soundly in my bed!  On more than one occasion, that man I call the love of my life has claimed to be "sleeping" and unaware of the screaming, crying fits the baby and I were throwing just a few tiny feet away from his body.

I'm calling your bluff! Women aren't the only ones who have learned the art of faking!!

Friday, May 18, 2012

Vagina Chronicles, Part Deux

54 weeks and counting...that's how long my hubby has been gone. The return date came and went without Lt Hubby being given back to us due to an injury. He is now lost in a sea of paperwork, protocol, and policy. I fear he may never be actually coming home. There are many reasons I was looking forward to the return of my man; he was supposed to join forces with me as my partner in crime against the uprising of our 5 boys (they are planning an overthrow, I can feel it!), I have been waiting patiently (and complaining loudly) for him to reclaim ownership of the chores that I hate, and I was counting down the days for him to rid me of my re-grown virginity! Yep, that's right. I fear my hymen has actually grown back! 54 weeks is a really, REALLY long time!

I'm honestly starting to fear for my own health (and his a little...let's face it!). There's nothing like a little abstinence in the name of patriotism to make you appreciate your spouse in a whole new light. God bless America, indeed! I think I get the patriotic award...Lt Hubby can have an honorable mention. I know he's the one who served, but I think my vagina is taking more hits than she signed up for. Fifth baby was not on the war-time agenda (however, we wouldn't put him back, obviously...he'd never fit!), and the never ending boycott on sex is bordering cruel and unusual punishment! "We the people"....NEED SEX!

My girlfriend even pointed out that I am emitting an "aura" as of lately. It's the I-need-to-do-the-hokey-poky aura! It's so strong I'm even attracting men in the grocery store...with an over flowing cart and 3 of my littles hanging all over me. The glow I'm emitting must be blinding. I either look smokin' hot or my gotta-get-me-some aura is on super charge!

"What about mid-tour?" you may ask. My lady bits were only 8 weeks post trauma and sleep deprivation over runneth. Plus, the other 4 dudes consumed all of the hubby's time, energy, and attention. The poor fella needed sleep more than me! The horizontal mambo didn't even make it onto the "possible" agenda. My poor hubby may be the only soldier (married or single) that didn't get to participate in the "rockin' robin" while home on leave. Obviously my heart goes out to the guy, but in my defense, I'm not gettin' any either!

Any man in camouflage better watch out at this point. I was promised at year end a wham-bam-I-missed-ya-ma'am kind of reunion...but the military kept my sex-er man- with no apologies or promise to give it-er him- back! Oh I'm gonna get me some....I just can't be expected to be responsible for my actions at this stage in the abstinence game (by the way, this game is NO fun) Be warned...I may just "jump" the next camo-clad soldier I see. Take one for the American team, dude!