Category Archives: I think my head might explode

Wherein I Go Shopping for Men’s Clothing and Fall Over Dead from Sticker Shock*

I got an earlier than usual start to my day today. This is thanks to the fact that Noah decided not to ride along with Sean and the other boys when Sean went to get donuts for a special treat this morning, then got bored/lonely when his visiting grandma went down to take a shower. So he came into my room and told me that Daddy said it was time to get up. Even though Daddy had already left and said no such thing before going. But I didn’t know that until I was already out of bed.

Of course, the baby decided that today was the perfect day for HER to sleep in, so I could have gotten some quality rest. Sigh.

I made sure to take advantage of that early start today, though, since I knew that I had additional errands to run. Namely, I needed to go buy Sean new suit pants before church tomorrow, since the seam in his other pair ripped out along the butt right before church last week.

Side note: I am utterly baffled by the fact that a man who is so completely butt-less seems to kill most of his pants by tearing that seam. I couldn’t tell you how many pairs of pants have met that fate in the fifteen years that I have known him. I swear, I think he does squats in them when I’m not looking.

So, my first stop today was JC Penny’s to replace the pants. And OH BOY is it a good thing that it was my first stop. Because the pants? They were a door buster sale this morning. Plus, there was a $10 coupon. Which means that the pants were ONLY forty-two dollars. As opposed to the ONE-HUNDRED FORTY DOLLAR price on the tag.

Excuse me???

It is just a freakin’ pair of pants! And let’s be honest, suit material is rather thin. There aren’t even any tummy support panels or butt boosters built in. And, quite frankly, if I spend $140 on a single pair of pants, they’d better do something special. Like the dishes. Or tucking my kids in bed at night.

Maybe I should focus my sewing skills on men’s clothing. Because, obviously, it’s a racket.


Today, I am thankful for:

  1. The enjoyable time that we had with my mother-in-law while she was here and her safe arrival back home.
  2. My father used to tell me that you could form calluses on your hands or on your butt. I’m thankful that my husband is the kind of man who has them on his hands. And I’m thankful this means that my compost bin got built today and our last two pine trees got cut down.
  3. Little boys who are learning their father’s work ethic. They should sleep well tonight after dragging so many pine branches to our fire pit.
  4. The two big pots of mums that my mom gave to me. And the fact that she even planted them for me.
  5. Finally finding the time (and having a beautiful day) to clean up the remainder of my garden. My side yard no longer looks like it suffered an apocalyptic event.
  6. (A bonus one!) I’m grateful that I noticed the dog in my car right before I closed the door so I didn’t have to go through another night of worrying what happened to him. Or wake up to a car that smells like nervous dog in the morning. What a pinhead.

*I think, from now on, whenever I can’t think of a clever title for a post, I will just pretend that my life is part of the Complete Adventures of Winnie the Pooh and title it appropriately.


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Filed under Daily Life, Gratitude, I think my head might explode, NaBloPoMo, Thirty Days of Thankfulness

Progression of a Crappy Morning

I woke up this morning to a wonderful breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and eggs made by my husband and children. Nothing unusual about that—we usually do a big breakfast on Saturdays.

After breakfast, I took Eli out of his high chair and noticed that he was pretty much covered from head to toe in pancake batter. You know, from making breakfast.

As Sean and the older kids headed outside to do some yard work, I turned on the bath water and threw the baby in the tub.

A few minutes later, Sean came inside to inform me that his car was broken into. They smashed the front passenger-side window and grabbed his GPS system. Again with the criminals. Lovely.

With the baby still in the tub, I grabbed the phone and called my local politician mother to get the non-emergency number for the sheriff’s office. She informed me that she was just getting ready to call to let me know that she was reading the police reports in the local newspaper and there has been a rash of cars broken into in our area with GPS systems stolen. That piece of information, sadly, came a day late and a few hundred dollars (at least) short.

While on the phone with my mother, Eli started calling to me from the bathroom: “Mommy, all done!” He still needed his hair washed, so I was going to wrap up my conversation with my mom, call the police, then finish up his bath and take him out.

That’s when he started to poop. A lot. It only took me four kids to finally have that lovely experience. To his credit, he did try to warn me.

I took Eli out of the bath and set him on the toilet (thank heaven’s for his recent interest in the potty seat!). Let out water. Start scooping out toys. Put diaper on baby and start cleaning poop out of bath.

That’s when an older brother started yelling at me from the downstairs bathroom. More pooping had been going on, and a small butt needed my wiping expertise.

I finished dressing Eli. Finished scooping poop out of the tub. Flushed the toilet.

At that moment, the full weight of the conversation I heard before I was completely awake this morning—the one wherein Sean told Noah to substitute regular baby wipes for the toddler wipes we are currently out of—sunk in. Unfortunately, that is the only thing that sunk in. The water level in the toilet, to the contrary, started to rise. And bubble (another first for me!). At that point, it wouldn’t have surprised me if the stupid thing blew up. I couldn’t worry about that, though, because it was time for me to start plunging like my life (or, at least, my bathroom floor) depended on it.

It took an effort valiant enough to induce a few contractions, but the toilet finally flushed.

I called the police, tried to wipe the remaining pancake batter out of Eli’s hair with a diaper wipe, and started cleaning up breakfast.

When the deputy showed up, I grabbed Eli and went outside to meet him. As we started to talk, Eli took off around the house and down the hill. I suggested to the deputy that we move to the side of the house where I could see what the baby was doing. As I walked through the grass, I stepped—barefoot—into a pile of dog poop.


Not even ten o’clock on a Saturday morning, and I have definitely already met my quota of nasty encounters with fecal matter for an entire week. And I haven’t even cleaned the ferret’s cage yet.

Here’s hoping for a slightly less craptastic remainder of the weekend.


Filed under Daily Life, I think my head might explode

Why Do the Criminals Get All of the Rights?

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In case you are wondering, that is what happens when you bang your head against the keyboard.

So, when I wrote about the Lying Jerk Face (heretofore known as LJF) who backed into me yesterday, there are a few things that I left out. I did it on purpose, because I wanted to confirm what I suspected before I said it here.


You know how I said he tried to talk me out of calling the police? I mean REALLY, REALLY tried? And then got mad when I did it anyhow?

Did you know that, if you have enough personal information about a person, you can pull up their driving record on the Bureau of Motor Vehicles website? Ah, see, you learned something today. Or, at least, I learned something. Actually, I learned A LOT of something.

For instance…

  • LJF has two separate DUI’s and a drug conviction.
  • He refused to take a breathalyzer on the scene of both DUI’s.
  • His license has been revoked five times (three concurrent for one offense, two concurrent for another offense) and is currently driving under a three year restriction.
  • He has settled an injury case out of court.
  • He was picked up by the cops twice in the same day (once for reckless driving, once for one of the DUI’s) in two different counties.
  • He currently has 14 points on his license. (Fourteen! People, that takes effort! Especially when your license has been revoked for half of the reporting period!)

And that is just the standard three-year driving record report. Who knows what this idiot did before then?

Could someone please tell me why the heck this guy is still on the road??? Or why the cop on the scene of our accident didn’t press him a bit harder instead of just acting like I was wasting his time by wanting him to take a police report?

Or, better yet…

You know how I said that you can get this information if you have enough personal information about someone? When the cop came, he had us each fill out two forms. One was our statements about what happened in the accident. The other asked for our name, address, phone number, birthday, driver’s license number, social security number, and insurance company. After we filled those out, the cop gave me his, and GAVE HIM MINE!

That’s right. LJF, who is a CONVICTED CRIMINAL, has ALL of my personal information! The only thing he didn’t get was my insurance policy number! And that was the only bit of information that he actually needed!

People, I’m going to order a complete criminal background check on him. Because I only know what shows up related to his driving record. And, given what a gem THAT shows him to be, I would really like to know what else this guy who now possesses my Social Security number and HOME ADDRESS has done. You know, in case I want to get a concealed carry permit.

And, if he does have a record outside of his stellar driving performance? I will raise hell with the police department. This should not be legal. They had to know who they were handing my personal  information over to when they did it. And that? That is just wrong.

ETA: And now they are talking on the news about how they are going to start reading Miranda Rights to terrorists. See? We have to protect the rights of those criminals. People who pine for the days of the Warren court need their heads examined.


Filed under I think my head might explode, Idiot Files, Scary Bits of Life

Sometimes, I Hate People


Is it Wrong to Hope He’ll Rot in Hell? Because This Life Sure Isn’t Fair.


First, let me start by saying that yesterday was a completely lovely day. I even got a nap. And I had wanted to write a positive blog post today to balance out my last one. Obviously, that’s not happening.


In an effort to make today another lovely day (like yesterday), I thought it would be fun to take the kids to our local children’s museum. After all, it was raining outside. Plus, the museum has a new exhibit about dragons which I figured the boys would really enjoy. So, we got ready, loaded up and hit the road.

A couple of miles from the museum, I stopped behind a pickup truck at a stop sign. Let me rephrase: I stopped SEVERAL FEET behind a pickup truck at a stop sign and SAT THERE, MOTIONLESS for a few second. Then, I watched his reverse lights come on. And I laid on my horn as he proceeded to back into me.

He pulled back up and, for a minute there, I thought he was going to take off. He finally got out and, at first, tried to say that it looked like my car wasn’t damaged. Yeah. Except for those dents in my bumper and that spot where the grill is cracked in half.




We pulled off of the road into an abandoned parking lot and I proceeded to call and report the accident. That was the point at which he started begging me to Please, Please, Please just exchange insurance information with him because he doesn’t have a good driving record and he’s going to lose his license over this.

Um, no. And dude, if you are that big of a menace on the road, you shouldn’t be allowed to drive.

After I called the police, he told me that if I was going to go and make things difficult by reporting the accident, he just wouldn’t give me his insurance information. Yeah, nice, huh? Of course, it turns out that this probably had more to do with the fact that he didn’t have it on him. (Did he think I would just trust him when he broke out with some random policy number without me being able to verify that he wasn’t just pulling it out of a bodily orifice?)

At this point, I was getting concerned because I suspected what he was going to do. And I was right. When the cop showed up, the dude LIED TO HIS FACE. That’s right. Apparently, he was just sitting at that stop sign, tweedle deedle dee, innocent as can be, when I slammed into the back of his truck.

People, livid does not begin to describe how I feel about this situation.

Now, I don’t think the cop believed him. After all, he didn’t ticket me. But he didn’t ticket HIM, either. And that means that I’m on the hook for my insurance deductible. Oh, and to make it even more cheerful? In order to perpetuate his lie and try to save his own a…hem…butt, he has filed an insurance claim trying to make ME pay for the damage to HIS CAR.


I wish that outburst would have been even slightly cathartic.

So, yeah, I’ve got a busted grill (or my car does…my face, and every other part of my body, is fine), a $500 deductible, a lying jerk to deal with, and—to make it even more enjoyable—little boys who have been playing compare and contrast this accident to the last one all day long. Because I really want them to have to think about that, too.

But, there may be hope.

You see, he was apologizing and trying to convince me to not report the accident WHILE I WAS ON THE PHONE WITH 911 DISPATCH. I’ve requested a copy of the call and should have it in a few days. I’m hoping that he’ll be audible on it. At the very least, I know that I will be, and I was having to interrupt my conversation with the dispatcher to reply to what he was saying.

Call me uncharitable, but I’m hoping it will be enough to pin his hide to the wall.


Filed under I think my head might explode, Idiot Files, Scary Bits of Life


A couple of years ago, Sean and I watched the Adam Sandler movie, Click. While I am generally not a fan of Adam Sandler, I was intrigued by the concept behind the story. A man is given a remote control that allows him to fast-forward through parts of his life. He starts using it to skip conversations with his wife that he finds boring, get to a promotion faster, and generally bypassing anything mundane or unpleasant.

What the man didn’t know was that the remote was recording his preferences. Soon, it was automatically fast-forwarding through parts of his life, even when he didn’t push the button. Before he knows it, his desire to only experience the good and exciting has left him at the end of his life, having missed most of what happened.

I haven’t thought about this movie for a long time. I couldn’t get it out of my mind today.

I woke up with one of my pregnancy aches making it impossible for me to lay on my left side without serious pain. As I pulled myself up to sitting, Sean informed me that he and Eli both appeared to be coming down with something.


As I tried to eat breakfast and get myself ready for the day, I was under constant assault from Noah and Caleb who were arguing about the television remote and access to Noah’s bedroom.


Wyatt asked if he could play their new Lego Indiana Jones game on the Wii. Caleb decided he wanted to play, too. Suddenly, I was dealing with arguments over who got the #1 controller. I sorted that out, then listened to Wyatt complain incessantly about the fact that they weren’t beating the level because Caleb doesn’t know how to do things in the game.


I left to take Eli to his 15-month well-baby checkup (convenient, since it also provided a follow-up for his surgery). As I started to drive to the doctor’s office, my dashboard informed me that I was 17 miles to an empty tank. Great! The last time I was in the car, the low fuel indicator wasn’t even on, but Sean had driven it a few times since then and didn’t warn me. By the time I got to the doctor’s office, I was down to five miles from empty. Thank heavens there was a gas station less than a mile away that I could use after the appointment.


Eli was definitely still leery about being near doctors after what he went through last week. He glared at the pediatrician and honestly looked like he was ready to break down in tears by the time she left, even though she barely even touched him. Even so, she discovered that he currently has fluid behind one eardrum and a full-blown ear infection in the other ear. Great. I had no idea. Poor kid.


As I pulled into the garage after the doctor’s appointment, I noticed the FULL 5-gallon gas can that had been sitting next to my practically empty car. When I called Sean to tell him exactly how frustrating that sight was after my trip to the doctor’s office, he explained that he hadn’t used it on the car because he bought it for the next time he used the tractor.


(Forget fast-forwarding through that one, a good smack to the side of the head really would have sufficed for that particular bit of logic.)

For the first time since Thursday’s/Friday’s trip to the emergency room, I attempted a nap today. Unfortunately, the ear infection was apparently affecting Eli and he couldn’t stay comfortable and sleep. As a result, I’m still nowhere close to closing the gap on the massive sleep deficit that I’m running on.


After naptime, I took the kids to the store to pick up Eli’s medicine. Some friendly but clueless old man proceeded to ask me if I adopted any of my kids, or if they were all “mine.” WTH??? That’s just what my six-year-old son, who asked me the other day why he looks different from the rest of us, needs. To be singled out by some stranger suggesting he’s not “mine” like his brothers are. Given the situation, I did my best by forcing a smile and telling the man that they were all “mine” but, yes, we had adopted one of them. Then, I proceeded with a shopping trip full of kids ignoring me and generally leaving me at my wit’s end. It was not pretty. We came home and I made all three of the older ones go to their rooms.


Various other annoyances while I made dinner. Eli started acting upset during dinner. After eating, Sean suggested that the kids go play outside. Caleb interpreted this as instruction to go ride his bike in the street (alone—thank heavens we have almost no traffic on my street). As this is becoming a regular battle, I made him go to bed early, then listened to him cry over the injustice for the next hour and a half.


By now, Eli is miserable. I’m not sure if it is the ear infection, an upset stomach from the antibiotic, or a reaction to his immunizations (which the pediatrician assured me wouldn’t be an issue to give him today since he wasn’t running a fever). I gave him Tylenol and am hoping that whatever it is resolves quickly.


Yeah, I think that I pretty much would have had myself way into my geriatric years just based on today alone. The kids are finally tucked into bed and everyone is (for the moment) quiet. At this point, I just want to find myself a dark, quiet corner to ball up into a fetal position in.

Of course, due to my current “condition,” that’s pretty much going to be physically impossible for another two months.



Filed under Daily Life, I think my head might explode, Kids, Parenting, pregnancy, transracial adoption

I’m Ready for a Girl

A couple of days ago, I was having a conversation with a friend at church who is also the mother of boys. She wondered if I was nervous about having a girl this time around, since I have the boy thing all figured out already.


Seriously, people, can a woman ever figure out exactly what is going on inside that walnut shell we refer to as the male brain, no matter what age he is?

Case in point:

As I was beginning to eat my lunch this afternoon, I was greeted by horrendous banging noises in the basement (where Noah and Wyatt had taken their lunches). It sounded like something large and metal had been dropped from a great distance. I rushed downstairs and, not seeing either child that was supposed to be in their playroom, yelled my curiosity as to where the heck they were and what the heck had made that noise.

Noah opened the door to our food storage room, a large walk-in closet with wooden shelves up to the ceiling on both sides.

storage room

“Where is Wyatt?” I all but yelled at him.

“Up there!” he answered.

Up where???

“Up THERE!” He pointed towards the (currently empty) top shelf.

top shelf

Do you see the metal pipe running along the top-right of the picture? Noah was pointing to the space to the left of it.



“Wyatt, come out NOW!”

And he did. Slowly. Backwards. Almost not getting his footing and almost falling to the hard tile floor seven feet below him. He looked like a freaking coal miner, he was so covered in dust, since he made it in far enough that he was actually on the ceiling above the hallway.

in the ceiling

As I yelled (yes, a lot of yelling occurred during this incident) at them both to get out and NEVER go in that room again unless I ask them to get food, Noah complained that his food was still up there (oh, yeah, I forgot to mention that Wyatt brought his lunch out of the ceiling with him).

Um, too freakin’ bad, kid.

I called to tell Sean, once again, that his life is so ridiculously much easier than mine and that he would have to figure out a way to get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of the ceiling when he came home (later, thankfully, I found that it was just on the top shelf, not actually in the ceiling).

He laughed at my disbelief over the situation. Couldn’t I see what a cool adventure that would seem like for a little boy?

Of course he would say that. After all, he’s a man. He’s got a walnut shell for a brain, too.

All I can say is, bring on the bossiness and hormonal mood swings. That, at least, I’ll understand.

ETA: I just got off of the phone with my brother-in-law who told me that he could totally relate. Apparently, he used to go climbing through the ceiling as a kid to sneek into another room and watch TV after his parents put him to bed. See people? Walnut shells.


Filed under Daily Life, I think my head might explode, Kids, Parenting, Scary Bits of Life

For My Next Trick, I Have a Complete Emotional Breakdown

First, a little background:

Every year, Sean takes each kid to his office for a “birthday with Daddy” excursion. Since Noah’s birthday fell on the same day as a major, mandatory securities training meeting this week, Sean took him in on Monday instead. As a result, we skipped school on Monday.

Monday night, Caleb puked. Tuesday morning, Noah puked (twice).  I never puked, but I spent the next two days SICK (ok, I was only SICK the first day—by yesterday I was just sick). Since I was having trouble performing complex tasks like consuming food and sitting up during that time period, we went two more days without doing school.

Needless to say, I started off the morning feeling really behind and determined to make the most of our day today. I was grateful for the fact that Sean’s grandmother was coming over this morning and would be able to keep the other kids occupied while Noah and I really hit the books. And the fact that she was bringing along a two year old cousin-ish person (Sean’s cousin’s son—first cousin once removed?)? Hey, I wasn’t going to complain.

Noah, however, was.

It didn’t matter to him that we were way behind. All that he cared about was that his brothers were getting to play with someone and he wasn’t. And, after and hour and a half of doing school and offering numerous warnings to pay attention, it became abundantly clear that he hadn’t paid attention to a single thing I had taught him. I told him that I was done wasting time and sent him to his room (with the understanding that we were NOT done with school for the day).

People, I have never before seen a child manage to break blood vessels around his eyes from a temper tantrum. But I saw it today. As I told Sean’s grandmother, it is probably a good thing that we live in a neighborhood with decent spacing between the houses. Otherwise, people might wonder about me. You just wouldn’t imagine that a kid could scream that loud for that long without some form of beating having occurred.

Without going into any more details, let’s just say that the rest of the day revolved around arguing about school. Which was finished approximately half an hour before bedtime.

Good times.

Of course, I have three other kids, too.

That means that in between the fighting about school, I got to fight about naps, fight about bowel movements (seriously—do you think that Activia would work for a preschooler?), and be peed on. Twice.

To round out the parenthood festivities, I got to sit in the hallway rocking a sleepwalking/crying four year old who would only be comforted back to immobile sleep with several rounds of the ABC song (while my husband stood there laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation).

But, hey, if I get through tomorrow, I get a nice, relaxing weekend, right?


Unless you count the second family birthday party for Noah that we’re having on Sunday.

Oh, or if you want to take into consideration the fact that Noah’s birth family is coming for a visit on Saturday. On one and a half days notice (and, really, that half day consists mostly of the time that I will be asleep tonight…). And as excited as I am to see them again…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.*

I’m approaching the point of stand-naked-in-a-cornfield-screaming-while-simultaneously-laughing-maniacally complete emotional breakdown. And anyone who has been to my house knows just how accessible a cornfield is.

On second thought, maybe I should spare the scarecrows the emotional damage (and my mother the embarrassment—it is a re-election year, after all) and just go to bed. After all…tomorrow is another day.*


*No, my middle name isn’t Scarlett (although I did name my dog after her), and I’m not from the south. But who can resist a great literary reference in the midst of a panic attack?


Filed under Daily Life, Homeschooling, I think my head might explode, Kids, open adoption, Parenting