Ma'am, Yes Ma'am!

I feel like a drill Sergeant.

I got a little cranky today while explaining to my children that I am not their maid or slave and they can put away their OWN laundry. It's amazing how I can actually get some results when I raise my voice. "Hey! Don't you leave this room when you hear me telling your sisters how they can help. You get right back here and help too!" Or "Who left this on the floor when you hear me sweeping?! Do you WANT me to suck it up?" These kids were stepping and fetching on a Friday night. Theeeen, to make me feel like a jerk Fern pipes us with (in a soft sweet voice so unlike Fern) "I left those there and I'm sorry Ma'am." Bwahaha! Really?! Now we're preparing to eat some ice cream and play Uno. Life is good.

Perils of NOT Having a Credit Card

Last night was band instrument rental night for Bette.  Talk about a strange journey!  There were hundreds of parents shoved into the bleachers looking miserable with just as many squiggling, chatting, and laughing kids shoved in between us.  The gym was so hot the fat guy next to me had armpit sweat stains by time we all stood up to leave.  Bette wasn't bothered one bit by the claustrophobic conditions as we were all herded to the basement to visit the tables of the instrument stores that came to fight for sales/rental agreements.  Oh wait - that's because the instant we walked into the basement she tore off with 3 friends for the cookie table.  Do you think she brought me a cookie?  Nope. 

On the ride home I was a little upset over the financial aspects of renting an instrument and how I had to sign away my life just to get the store to rent to me.  Not to mention I was hot and crowded for the past 90 minutes.  From the backseat, where Bette had gotten real quiet, comes "My tummy hurts."  I automatically thought it was because she could sense my disposition.  I swallowed the guilt of making her stomach hurt by projecting my worries onto her asked her what was making her sick to her stomach.  She groaned and replied "I ate three small cookies.  Then I stuck 3 more into a napkin to bring home to Fern.  But they were so squishy and smelled so good - and I ate them.  Too many cookies."

I learned three things from that conversation:

1. My daughter doesn't pay nearly as much attention to me as I give her credit for
2. My daughter was sweet enough to get Fern some cookies - the same Fern she will insist she can't stand
3. My daughter has my will power when it comes to cookies               

 

On My Butt in the Mud

School has just started. New teachers, principals, and bus drivers must become acquainted with my children and their personalities. The majority of my free time is spent standing at the end of my driveway waiting for the school bus. I make the bus trip 5 times a day – showing up at least 5 minutes early for each bus.

The other day I was bent down petting our kitten that had followed us to the bus stop. Next thing I know I’m on my butt down in the mud (it had rained the last 4 days). Some force of nature had rammed into me while I was bent over and sent me sprawling. I look up just in time to see Fern cover her mouth with her hand. In her haste to get to the kitten she didn’t realize she was going to batter-ram me with her head. This, folks, is why I call my tiny beauty a moose.

Intro

Why, oh why didn’t someone warn me that I would be outnumbered when I had three children? Was this someone’s funny way to get back at me for being a pain when I was growing up? Or was this because my mother-in-law wished kids just like himself on my husband when he was growing up? Either way, I wouldn’t change a thing. Some days can be downright difficult but most are just flat out hilarious!

The idea behind this blog is to chronicle the who’s, what’s, when’s, where’s, and why’s of raising three daughters. My kids are always leaving me in stitches and I thought it was only right to share some of their stories with the world. Maybe I can help save another mom’s sanity when she sighs and realizes it’s not just her and it’s not just her kids. We all have our moments. And before any self-righteous people out there scorn me for laughing at my kids – they don’t always know I’m laughing at them. But for the most part my kids laugh first and that’s what gets me going.

Let me start with a short introduction of myself. I am a 30-something mostly stay at home mom. I say mostly because I work two 12-hour shifts on the weekends for some peace and quiet – I mean extra cash! I do have a degree but I don’t use it yet. I live in a small town in the Midwest 15 minutes from where I was raised. As a child I was a very serious and didn’t find a real sense of humor until I had kids. It was either learn to laugh at some of the situations or spend the rest of my life crying and hanging my head in shame. (Even though I read both What to Expect When You’re Expecting and What to Expect the Toddler Years from cover to cover this parenting thing is a lot of trial and error!)
And now a little background about the children. Together they can be overwhelming, quite the force to be reckoned with. Together they are a ball of united energy that spins, whirls, pokes, and consumes entire rooms, playgrounds, and stores. For the most part they are very well behaved children but they can be silly and a bit noisy at times. They are a happy bunch and I try not to stifle their happiness so I allow for a little chaos. Separately, they don’t seem to be nearly as threatening – you could even say they appear docile. And even though they can bicker with the best of them – they always watch out for one another.




My oldest daughter, Bette, is 10 and comes from a previous marriage. She is very bright, very mature, a little quirky, and has an odd sense of humor. She has a keen sense of justice and wants the world to be right and fair. She loves to play sports and has no problem getting up to bat alone in front of all the parents. But don’t even think about asking her get on a stage or sing in front of anyone. Currently she plans to spend her future living in the arctic with wolves so she can research them and their habitat. There was never a dream to be a fairy princess living in a castle for Bette. Nope, she wanted to be the one to build the castle and take care of the kingdom’s animals.


My middle daughter, Fern, is 7 and is the perfect mixture of her father and me. She is also very bright but tries to use her intelligence to get others to do her work for her. She is loud, spontaneous, and can be a little anxious. She would rather have fun and get in trouble than sit around bored. She once told me “Mommy, I’m sorry I can be so bad sometimes, but it’s just so much fun!” There went that nice family dinner as Dad laughed at her and I shot him a nasty look. Fern is always doing something that throws me for a loop. She’s rough, tough, loves to wear dresses and likes to play in the dirt. There is no middle ground for Fern, she runs to extremes. She is either extremely happy or she is sullen and cranky with the best of them. With that though, she is also the most loving person I have ever met.



My youngest daughter, Deena, is 6 and fits the role of ‘the baby’ perfectly. If I say “My baby” in a sweet voice she coos like a baby and replies “My Ma-ma”. My husband hates it but I’m holding on to whatever I can at this moment. They are all growing so fast! Deena is very bright like her sisters and she loves to perform – singing, dancing, and acting. She is outgoing, funny, and kind. She calls herself Bette’s mini-me and aspires to be just like her biggest sister. Deena has quite the little sense of humor and is always trying to make people laugh. She’s always running around giggling with a smile on her face. The world is Deena’s playground and she already seems to know just how to make the most of that.