The Boy Is Hollow

Tazzie is driving me batty.

He's constantly hungry.  10 minutes or less after a meal, he's asking for something to eat.  We don't 'do' junk, except a rare treat, so he's getting whole wheat bread, lots of fruits and veggies, and protein.

I hope my bank account can handle this growth spurt.  At least, I *hope* its a growth spurt, and not his new 'normal'.

At 5, he makes our fridge look like we've been invaded by locusts.  Heaven help us when he's 15!

A Gift Too Soon

Diva turns eleven today. Yay Diva! Happy Birthday!

And she got her first period last night.

*Insert Mommy fainting here.*

Thank heavens she knew from our talks exactly what was going on, so she had that half excited/half embarrassed look to her.

Wolf on the other hand...He about dropped. I mean, worse than me. I just wanted to cry, because having to deal with menstruation at eleven just seems like a rotten thing (its rotten at my age, I wouldn't wish it on an eleven year old, lol!). He on the other hand, turned green at the very idea that his little girl...lol! On the good side, seems to finally *get* why I've been ranting about hormone free meat and milk, whole foods, an acreage, growing and raising everything that goes into our mouths.

He's even going to talk to his buddy about going hunting for the first time. Wolf's anxious to start providing 'clean' meat now and not wait. Venison is about as clean as it gets, and free to boot. If Wolf finally gets around to getting his Metis status, he can hunt year round, not just in season...same with the buddy he'll hunt with.

Oh, any parental "Oh my, she's too young!" momentary freak outs were done away from the kids, and unheard. Just so nobody thinks we flipped in front of Diva

Parent Manuals Do Not Apply

I've finally figured out WHY I'm the Non Stepford Wife model.

Its my kids' fault. And, by DNA responsibility and other issues, my husband's.

But definitely the kids.

Lets start with the fact that there isn't a parenting manual in existence that deals with the issues I face on a regular/daily basis.

Take today for example. There isn't a parenting manual on the shelf that deals with potty training a la non-Stepford style. Princess has been 'sorta' trained for about a year. The 'sorta' parts come in when she will not ever wear anything on her butt. Initially, putting underwear on this kid had her screaming like I'd dipped her in acid. And not the funky hippie dream, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds acid either.

Sooooooo, we let her go bare butt in the house. Never an accident.

But the problem arises when its time to go somewhere. Yes, even homeschoolers take their kids out. Occasionally.

Put a diaper on her, she uses it. Usually in the worst, smelliest, leakiest way possible. I know there are other moms that read this blog, so I know I don't need to get any more detailed than that. Same with disposable so-called training pants. Training my left foot! Only training that occurred was when I had to teach/train Wolf that they rip down the sides, you don't have to slide a poop filled training pants down her legs. Lets all take a moment for a group shudder at the visual that sentence produced. *shudder*

Until.

I found a no name brand disposable training pant that had PRINCESSES on it. From my Princess' all time favourite movie(s), Shrek 1-3. Well now. Defiling those were obviously a no-no. *cue angels singing*

Of course, me being me, didn't figure this out ahead of time, and neglected to buy out the entire in store stock (they were even on sale). However, the bridge between 'bare butt' and 'scream like a banshee' has been bridged, and she will wear underwear now. *cue angelic chorus*

But only if they're pink. With flowers. aka 'pretty'. *headdesk*

Sigh.

I figure that she'll be in normal underwear about a week before she turns 21, and then will be demanding thongs a week after THAT.

In the meantime, I have a three year old that appears out of nowhere, panties around her ankles, announcing "I pooped!", handing me a roll of toilet paper, and bending over. All my other kids had the grace to simply holler at the top of their lungs for help from the bathroom. Not her. *sigh*

Take that, parenting manual. Never read THAT being discussed.

Its not just my youngest either. Tazzie, at 4, has been known to listen to me, cock his head to the side with a puzzled look, and tell me, "I just can't visualize that, Mom." and walks off.

Seriously.

And, the most psyche scarring event of all occurred with Diva, my eldest daughter today. I.Had.To.Teach.Her.To.Shave.

I may never recover. I literally crawled into Wolf's lap, shaking.

(As an aside, why do men think the cure to psychological scarring is them receiving...uh...personal attention? Or is it just my dh?)

As my ever helpful husband said, "At least it was just under her arms. She could have been asking about bikini---" He wasn't allowed to finish that sentence.

Parenting manuals at the Non-Stepford home...best used as paperweights. Or to start fires...if we had a fireplace. *sigh* And I could use some help, dang it!!

What I Want For My Kids

There's tonnes of updates that I'll get to another time. Someone asked me what I wanted for my kids, for their futures. This is my answer.

When I think about what I want for my children, what readily comes to mind is what I DON'T want.

I don't want them to be like me. Worker's Comp forced me to go through a battery of psych testing, including IQ. All it did was prove my pain WASN'T in my head and that I'm in the top 4th percentile of ppl my age. Not that being bright has done anything for me. I was a lowly nursing attendant, FINALLY going to go back to school (online, part time) get my Licensed Practical Nurse cert, and from there my RN with an eye to either being a Nurse Practitioner or a midwife. Of course, one assault by a resident has left me with a lifetime of chronic pain disability, so that's shot all to h*ll. At this point, I couldn't handle ONE course at a college/University level due to the pain and unpredictable nature of it, sitting through a single class would be a nightmare if the pain were bad, and completing coursework? Yeah. Not.

So I don't want them to be like me. I want them to use the brains God gave them (all my kids have shown clear signs of being very bright) and DO something. Find something they love and pursue it.

I don't want them to struggle financially as I always have.

I don't want them to be a single parent.

I don't want them having a family before they've had a 'life'. I want them to have pursued everything they want to as young, single people that tends to be put aside when raising a family. Higher education, travel...whatever. And if they don't want any of those things, that's fine! But if they do, I want them to have the chance to do it.

I don't want them to be in their 30s, 40s and beyond with 'I wish I had...'

I want them to be young and foolish, to make mistakes, but not life altering ones...no scars on their minds, hearts, souls.

I want them to grow with faith. I want them to be steeped in it, to KNOW without question that God loves them, and is always there for them...especially when the day comes that I'm not any longer. I don't want them to struggle to find their way to God the way I've had to.

I want them to know, with every fibre of their being, that their Mommy loves them, forever and for always.

I want them to know that their Daddy loves them, is proud of them, would give everything he has, is, and will ever be for their safety and happiness.

I want them to be strong,confident, healthy, secure people. To trust others. To make friends easily, to know good from bad, truth from lies.

Yes, I want my children to be and to have everything I'm not and don't.

I want them to grow up to be anybody but me.

Sickness, And Balance

We've been struck down with illness at the Non Stepford Home. No, it doesn't appear to be of the swine variety, but rather of the tonsillitis sort. However, we didn't know that until yesterday. Did you know that severe tonsillitis mimics the flu, complete with fever, upchucking, body aches, chills, and all those delights? Nor did I, but Tazzie has left me a wiser Momma. Thanks kid. Really.

Now Princess has joined the illness brigade, just as Tazzie decided to recover this am. So, she's on the couch, looking like a wee scrap of herself, until we can get to the Drs tomorrow and get her an Rx of her own.

I love Wolf. Sometimes I don't understand him though. I'm not saying that in a snarky manner at all, so please don't get me wrong. We just view things so differently...I think that's probably why we make as good a team as we do, even if it occasionally leaves us tilting our heads at one another, trying to see that perspective.

Give you an example.

Tazzie, as mentioned, has been sick. Today has been the first almost human day he's had. He's been eating, drinking, and thoroughly annoying his big sister. Like I said, almost human...except for the too pale face, and crashed out boychild napping at the moment.

Wolf calls from work, wants to know if there's anything to pick up on his way home from work. Realizes he has to come home first, as his bank card is here. Okies. Then he says:
"I'll pick up Tazzie and take him with me. He hasn't been out in a few days, except to the Drs."

That. That right there is where I tilt my head and go, "Huh?!" To him, Tazzie needs some fresh air, out of the house, etc. To me, out in public, immune system still under attack, nuh uh, no way, not a plan. Both parents with the child's best at heart, polar opposites in perspective. I know Tazzie will be staying at home when I tell Wolf my concerns about the immune system...But I also know that there are times when I would keep the kids close to me whereas Wolf rightly encourages them to wander further and explore.

Balance.

And I think that's what I'd also like to hope people keep in mind at this time of media blaring, conflicting reports, WHO numbers...balance. Caution isn't a bad thing. Freaking out is, just as complete disregard. Be aware. A little extra handwashing never hurt anyone, anyways, right?

One Of Life's Ironies

One of life's ironies, as Wolf like's to point out is that I have to take somewhere in the neighbourhood of 30 pills a day. No, that's not a typo folks, that actually is 3-0, as in thirty. The irony being, I choke on chewable vitamins. Watching me down pills is something of a family entertainment. I've caught Wolf on the phone, taking bets, on if I choke, and to what degree. I hope he at least makes enough money to buy me flowers out of it.

Anyways...

Just had a choke session. Quite the dramatic one, with coffee spewing from mouth AND nose, progeny a 'running to ensure that I will live to make supper. I choked out a request for a towel, and Tazzie returned with one moments later, proudly announcing, "Here, Mommmy!" and just as I was about to wipe my face with it, I hear Diva shriek, "Don't use that! I cleaned up Princess' pee with it off the bathroom floor this morning!"

At least she warned me BEFORE I used the towel. Its those special moments that prove a child's love, folks. I've no doubt that by the time she's 14, she'll wait til AFTER I used it, then tell me while she snickered. Course, if Princess is still peeing on the floor in four years, we've got other issues...Maybe we'll have a puppy piddling on the floor by then? But I digress.

Just an interesting note to close on...I now know what its like to have coffee scented snot. Interesting.

Oh, The Drama!

Just a quick explaination as to why I've been MIA. For those new to my blog, I have RSD, which affects my entire right arm, shoulder to finger tips. Wolf's gone back to work as of Monday, which is a wonderful thing for us financially, and for him emotionally...but for me, its meant that I've been chug-a-lugging the meds the minute he hits the door and going to bed, so its seriously disabled my blogging abilities.

Moving on to the real post of today:

The Princess was walking along the edge of the brick raised planter thing the landlords put out front of our place shortly after we moved in. Something she's done a billion or so times before. Last year, they sawed off an evergreen that croaked, leaving a small stump. So of course, when The Princess fell for the very first time, it was towards the stump.

Thankfully, she wasn't hurt. Well. not in terms that you or I would consider 'hurt'. No gushing blood, no eyes missing, no puncture wounds, nothing needing an ER trip.

She does, however, have a scratch in the palm of her hand. About 2 inches long.
And we're out of band aids.

Well, lil Miss Drama Queen keeps looking at the palm of her hand, gasping, and moaning, "Oooooh! Ohhhhhhh!" and coming over for a cuddle, and mournfully pleading, "Ban aiy? Ban Aiy, Momma?"

I sent Diva to the store. I can't take it.

The Princess is now the proud owner of a Hello Kitty! bright pink band-aid, and all is right with the world again.
*sigh*

Stupid Should Hurt

Stupid should hurt. I even have shirts, etc that say so in my shop. It really should. So should narrow mindedness, bigoted behaviour, racism...but really, when you boil all that crap down, it comes down at its base to 'stupid' or at best, 'ignorant'.
I don't know if its only that I've become less tolerant (and I know I have) or that it really is on the rise, but I witness more and more stupidity, comments that make me want to reach over and smack the living crud out of someone. Do ppl really believe the crap they're spouting, or is it done in an effort to provoke a reaction? Sometimes I have the urge to ask, but am kinda afraid of the answer. I mean, how do you nicely ask someone, "Excuse me, but are you as stupid as that statement makes you sound?"
Nowhere does stupidity seem to raise its ugly head than in parenting issues. Now, I am not now, nor have I ever been, nor will I ever be, a perfect parent. I don't play one on tv, and I don't even pretend to be one online even. I have my opinions, as does anyone else. But there are some things that are just common sense folks.

Discipline is a fine example. If you don't discipline little Jimmy when he's little, he's going to be a brat. And he'll be a brat when he becomes teen Jimmy, at which point you'll have a kid that's bigger than you, cursing and swearing, intimidating you, your spouse and his siblings. If you're inconsistant in your discipline, its not going to work.

We're not talking The Dead Sea Scrolls here, people. Parenting, while frustrating as holy Hades at times, actually isn't rocket science.

Unless you're a homeschooler, and choose to study rockets. But I digress.

And please, before I'm left a million and three comments about how your little darling has a medical diagnosis, I realize that different children require different parenting. Did I say one size fits all? Nope. I realize that for some parents, finding the right way to discipline is way harder and requires far more creativity than for the average bear, and I salute you.

I salute you for two reasons: one, its simply harder. Two, unlike SOME parents that I've had the misfortune of meeting, you haven't used your child's diagnosis as a 'get out of parenting free card', shrugged your shoulders, and hid behind a three letter label to excuse any and all misbehaviour by your child. Unlike that mother of the kid at the community pool a year or two ago, that just about brained Baby Princess with a weighted diving ring, while she sat on her rump, calling out, "He has ODD!" rather than actually doing anything. Or the kid that ran merrily around the park, throwing sand, stealing toys, shoving kids, while Mom sat on the park bench calling out, "Sorry, he has ADHD...Honey, be nice! Be nice!" which continued until Tazzie had enough and shoved the kid back. Suddenly, there was a problem. Uh huh. Wolf told her, "Sorry, he doesn't have ADHD. He just doesn't like being shoved around."

Anyways. Where was I?

Oh yeah. Stupidity and parenting.

If you buy your kid everything they want the minute they want it, please don't wonder why they have entitlement issues, k? And for HEAVEN'S SAKE, don't be complaining about it where I can hear you. Yes, I'm referring to YOU, neighbour across the way. I just about had coffee out the nose this am when checking the mail. And since when are YOU awake before 6 pm anyways? I know you work nights, because your kid complains about being stuck in the house with nothing to do but play with all her electronic gizmos because you're asleep. Here's another tip: Spending time with your kids. Always, always, ALWAYS a good idea. Honest. It won't spoil them rotten. I know, I know. You think we're ruining our kids, cause they're homeschooled, and they'll never make it in the 'real world'. Your kid told mine that too. Yeah, she's got a real mouth on her, doesn't she? But here's the thing...your kid BEGS to come over here, constantly. Why? Cause I'm HERE, with my kids. Spending time with them. You know, like...doing stuff. Reading, arts and crafts, popping popcorn, cuddling up...*gasp!* I know! What a concept! Unfortunately, between the swearing, lying, bullying of my toddler and preschooler, and general mouthing off, your kid isn't welcome here. Not only that, but despite your not so subtle hints, I'm not interested in being your free daycare. Another tip: If your 11 year old needs boot camp, thats a big old red flag for you, right there, k?

Here's my last tip for the post, and its one that doesn't make me quite foam at the mouth and twitch as badly as the parents that seem to think that children don't require discipline, that they can be their kid's bestest buddy and everything will be just fine and dandy, but its dang close. You ready? Ok. Here goes:
You cannot make up for whatever you missed as a kid through your child. Now, I'm not talking stuff like being hungry, neglected, wearing rags to school. I'm talking about other things. Its very simple, really. Your child isn't you. Your child will not have missed out on what you did, so a closet stuffed with more outfits than they could possibly hope to wear before they out grow them does them no possible good. A playroom crammed with more toys than any child could possibly play with is overwhelming, and if anything, teaches them a sense of entitlement. Its not going to do a thing for the child you were that desperately longed to see something under the Christmas tree, year after year. Only a good counsellor can help that. And I'm not saying that with any mean spirit at all, but with kindness. You can't make up for the fact that you always wanted to play hockey but your parents were too broke, especially if your son loathes the cold and only wants to curl up with a good book.

Spend the time with your child, and learn who he/she is, rather than who you want or need them to be. Take joy in who they are.

Sick

So, illness has hit the Non Stepford home. In the form of cold/snot/flu/migraine. Just a joy, really. Once again, count your blessings that you're not a resident of our fair abode.

The Heathens have been felled, one by one, by fever and snot. Then, it was my turn. A visit to a neurologist on Wed, to discuss the migraine issue, to be followed Thursday eve with the start of, oh guess what! a migraine.

The mother of all migraines, thank you oh, so much.

Now, I'm no inexperienced pansy when it comes to migraines. I've been dealing with them for some *gasp* 20 odd years now. But since RSD hit, they've been getting more frequent, longer, and way, way worse.

The one this week...well, if it wasn't The Worst...I'm scared of how much worse it can get, without my head actually exploding and leaving a heck of a mess for poor Wolf to explain to the kids...and CSI and homicide dicks. Do you think that they'll actually believe that 'my wife's head exploded from a migraine' story? Yeah, I doubt it too. Poor Wolfie.

Anyways, I don't remember Friday. I mean, seriously. I have a dim recollection of talking to a gf while Wolf was out at the pharmacy, and also of taking meds...but that's about it really. According to Wolf, that's about all I did. Bed, shuffle down the stairs, mumble, point, swallow meds, crawl back up the stairs. Throw in some moaning, whimpering, and clutching of head, and that about sums up my Friday, from what I understand. Oh, and add some throwing up in the kitchen sink. I remember that part. Figures I'd remember that part.

To greater illustrate the point, Wolf was getting scared. If I hadn't pulled out of it about when I did, he was getting ready to call for an ambulance.

And just for giggles, that gf I remember talking to...she mentioned something I hadn't considered...the correlation btwn high blood pressure, chronic pain...and high blood pressure and migraines. Followed up on that yesterday with a call to my health link...and got a butt kicking from a health nurse. Next time I get a migraine that doesn't respond to narcotics, I'm to haul butt (or more likely, get my butt hauled) to the ER, pronto. Its a bad bad bad sign of high blood pressure, apparently.

Who knew?

My gf J, apparently.

Well, I'm off. Still not feeling great, have a feverish Tazzie crashed out in my bed, and going to join him.

Holy Stubborn, Batman!

My youngest child has a stubborn streak that would have most in awe. I figure she got a double dose from both Wolf and I, because neither of us on our own are THAT stubborn.

Here's a perfect example:

This am, Princess decided to throw a fit over what game to play on the Little Leap system, howling and kicked at me. So, she gets her butt planted on the steps until she's stopped howling, and says, "Sorry, Mommy."

The howling stopped almost immediately...but do you think the apology would happen? *snort*

"Princess, say sorry, Mommy"
"Mmmm hmmmm" head nod.
"You have to say the words out loud. 'Sorry, Mommy'"
"Mmm hmmm"

Little turd. It wasn't til Wolf got home and she wanted off the step to see Daddy that she finally chirped, "Soree, Momm"

*sigh*

Actual Conversations At The Stepford House

I'm pretty sure 'normal' families don't have conversations like this.

Wolf: Women are malicious. Men will just kill you, but women want to watch you suffer...preferably for years.

Me: Name one thing I've ever deliberately done to cause you pain.

Wolf: *grins*

Me: MARRYING you does NOT count!

****
(Bedtime for Tazzie)

Taz: Uh oh

Me: What?

Taz: I stink

Me: What?!

Taz: I farted. I can't sleep, its stinky *starts flapping his blankets*

Me: *just about gagging* Too bad, you made it, you sleep in it.

Five minutes later:

Taz: Woof! Woof! I'm a dog!

Me: ok, night puppy...*puts glass of water on his headboard*

Taz: Woof! Woof! Puppies need a bowl, not a cup! Woof! Woof!

Me: You can use the cup.

Taz: Woof! I don't gots thumbs! Puppies can't hold cups! Need a bowl! Woof!

Me: Then when you get thirsty, you'll have to change back into a boy. G'night!

Taz: *starts crawling out of his room, 'woofing' and wiggling his butt.

Me: Puppies don't have thumbs, so they can't play xbox tomorrow. And little boys that get out of bed can't play either.

Taz: *runs back into his room*

Honestly, this can't be normal. Can it? For the record, Taz has been an issue to get to bed lately. I don't doubt that he saved his gas emissions all day just to try and use gas warfare as a delay bedtime technique. And no thumbs? Ok, so I've told the cat that since he didn't have thumbs he didn't get his choice of seats in the livingroom, but oy!

My Children Are Weird

Ok, that comes as no big shock to anyone that's ever read my blog, but honestly, their weirdness (or as Wolf prefers, 'uniqueness') is getting outta hand.

For one thing, we have a cat, Jack. ONE cat. Honest.

But there are times that you'd be hard pressed to tell. Both Taz and The Princess have issues with feline behaviour these days. Crawling around, meowing, and getting quite ticked if they're not petted. Princess was found playing in the kitty litter (it was clean, people, just changed!) and told that kitty litter wasn't for little girls, and removed...to which she immediately crawled back, meowing and acting like a cat...and attempt to play in the litter again. *sigh* She also does the head butt and rub against your face. I'm not sure who'll need therapy first, her or I.

Then there's this am. Princess, the whack a doo she is, LOVES R**e Kr**pies. (* are to ensure I don't get busted for any copy right infringement) Give her the choice of sugary goodness and the RK, she goes for the RK. I *said* she was a whack a doo, didn't I? I don't make this stuff up, folks.

ANYWAYS...she found the box of RK. Wolf buys it pretty much just for her, since the other kids have long since figured out the magic powers of sugar. She proceeds to pour some onto a plate, and LICK it up. Yeah, cat behaviour strikes again. So, being the (lazy/permissive/indulgent/awesome) Mommy I am, I indulge her creativity, and simply remove the box of cereal to prevent a larger mess. Until she starts using it as confetti, and apparently pretending she's at a wedding.

Which leads me to Tazzie. The child BEGGED to vacuum the mess. Seriously, folks. "Pleeeeeeassseee, Mommy, pleeeaaassseee!!! I wanna vaccuum!"

What, oh WHAT was I to do?

Plugged in the vacuum, handed him the hose and sat down with a coffee, that's what!

Now...if I can only convince them that housework is fun, I could have my own set of slaves....er...helpers!

Gettin Schooled

Tazzie kills me.

We were working on letter recognition today, with wood pieces and letter cards (like a puzzle, the letter cards show you the shape, and you use the wood pieces to make the letter).

Taz was starting to get bored, so I picked up a letter card and pretended to not know how to do it...so he announced he would show me. He did, turned to me and asked, "Do you get it now?" *snicker*

We finished off the alphabet, and he announces to me, "Imma good teature! I fink you learned enough now. I teach you more later, k?"

I guess Momma got schooled!

Bragging On The Boys

Wolf and I had been talking on Sunday about how badly things were getting to me. Friday was just hell, and the stupid driver was the icing on a poisoned cake at that point. Saturday, I went to see the psychologist for the first time which was emotional, and Sunday, Jack went MIA.

I told my husband, "I need something GOOD to happen." Wolf replied, "I didn't realize we were in a bad place."

I explained to him that *we* aren't, but that I'm just feeling overwhelmed, drained, tired, frayed. He went to bed shortly after, and before I went to bed, Jack came home, so that definately lifted my spirits. I felt like that was the good thing I'd needed.

Anyways, Wolf comes home yesterday with a bunch of red carnations. I thanked him happily, but was puzzled. The only time he's ever brought flowers home before was on my birthday or our anniversary. Before I could ask, he said, "You said you needed something good to happen...I thought maybe this would work."
Its those kinda moments that mean so much.

**************
Taz, 3.5 read Wolf a bedtime story last night. He's reading more and more, I'm just so stinkin proud of him! He read the book, grinned at Wolf and announced, "I'm AWESOME!" lmao!