Das Brett-dom strikes

Brett came home all excited. "Mom, I got this cool book at the library!" He then whips it out of his backpack.

"Usborne's First Thousand Words in German?"

"Yeah, I'd like to embrace my German heritage" he says.

I'm mentally scratching my head when he continues.

"And hey! I figured something out. No wonder I'm always bored!"

Ms. Yuck.

Emma's only 5 and doesn't always make it through the day without needing a nap. This becomes brutally apparent when she turns toxic on you.

She spent a good part of yesterday afternoon antagonizing Lucas. He asked for permission to play with the chalkboard, only to have Emma run in there, park her bum in front of it and then stick her tongue out at him. This, of course, prompted Lucas to come running, screaming up the hallway to tell on her.

After about the third offense, I'd reached my limit. I parked her in the chair while I started to get dinner going. Suddenly, I realized that the incessant chatter coming from her had stopped. This is what I found.
A few minutes later, Lucas wanders by and is hovering over her. I'm about to tell him that we don't poke the bear cub, when I see what he was doing. Think I can get her tattooed with one?

It's not the size of your.....

Brett and Lucas are in the kitchen getting a drink. Overheard:

Lucas: I want a big one! (referring to his glass size)
Brett: We all do, my friend, we all do.

*facepalm*

Smells like a Monday.

Note to self. Print and re-read previous post on mornings like today to remember that I do, in fact love my children and do not wish to see their smiling mugs on the side of a milk carton.

Lucas refuses to get out of bed because of the newly set mouse trap behind his dresser. (Holy crap! Any second, it's going to start snapping like a maniacal beast and come scurrying across the floor aiming for toes, better stay in bed today!)

Brett kicks Lucas under the table because he's eating too loudly, prompting a scuffle, and several mumbled insults.

Emma is slumped grumpily over her bowl of cereal, getting milk and random Rice Krispies in her hair.

Mike forgets to unload the dishwasher, but does remember to leave every light on, and to put the telltale dent in the couch where he sat for a half hour, narrowly making the bus on time.

Evan wakes up soaked and screaming, then throws his breakfast on the floor because it wasn't what his two-year-old-schizophrenic brain had in mind.

And Elle wakes up to eat, reminding me again, that vodka is off limits.

I am thankful.

In the grand tradition of blended families (ours, at least anyway) the older four are with bio-dad for Thanksgiving. Every year, they depart the day before Turkey day and come home the day before school starts. Just in time to dump copious amounts of dirty laundry and bring home whatever the virus du jour is in Virginia.

This year I started out thinking that I will really enjoy life whittled down to just two kids. TWO! How easy, simple, and lovely!

And it does start out that way. I rise, feed Evan, tend to Elle, actually get to hear myself think while I enjoy my bowl of Special K. I get chores done without hearing endless rounds of "He touched me", "I can't find my shoes", and "Mom, is liquid soap flammable?".

I have time to do things I enjoy too. I finished my book, researched cloth diapers, and even had the time to call and tell Curt that Evan's newest, cutest phrase is "Why not?". (One hand on hip, the other waving airily...it's delicious). Curt and I can watch a rated R movie, nary a underage child in sight.

But the thing is, I miss them.

I miss my Emma. I miss the that despite the fact that her birthday is in May, her brain is constantly reorganizing the guest list for this fete now in November. (Clearly, we cannot invite Nathan, as he is a boy, and we'd need to purchase an extra life vest if he wanted to swim, since we only have four.) She really worries about this. And where her pink socks are. You know, the ones with the tiny pom poms?

I miss Lucas, who talks so fast and whose speech is so garbled that he rather ends up sounding like Mickey from Snatch. His sweet little goofy innocence. And, how no matter how hard his brothers try to ditch him, he loves them endlessly and follows them like a forlorn puppy. He's just so affectionate and happy, ask him to help you make dinner and you have made his day. He just wants to be with you.

I miss my Brett, whose little ADD world is constantly changing and interesting. The other day he wanted to know why they didn't teach knitting in school. Knitting is cool, he said. If you get bored, you can knit. Plus, it keeps you warm. I love that he listens to the beat of that very different drummer in his head. Plus, it keeps me warm inside.

And Mike. Who is now cutting it very close to six feet tall. Mike, who turned 14 the day their dad picked them up for the holiday. He's so trying lately. So full of mood swings, sweet and helpful one minute, surly and sarcastic the next. Worried about the girl on the bus who teases him, but not at all about his science grade. But, how I love him. And despite the fact that we're starting to have some hard times in our relationship right now, I am blessed to be his Mommy.

Two is wonderful sometimes. For a day, maybe. But then I realize that despite the horrific amount of chaos that having six children causes, I wouldn't have it any other way.

So, I'm ready to have them back. The washing machine is empty, ready, and waiting. And I'm poised by the door, with a bucket for the puke in one hand, and the other arm ready to hug them all.

Project Runway, season 23

Brett, never one to shy from a challenge has decided that Evan needs a super hero costume. A Super Bubb (his nickname) costume, to be exact. After conning me out of an old crib sheet, found fabric, and a needle and thread, he brings his creation upstairs to show me.

I'm pretty sure he just wants to meet Heidi Klum.

I haven't even had my coffee yet

Emma climbs in bed with me early Saturday morning. Since she has to be quiet in her room to not wake up Ellie, she feels free to chatter in my room. And chatter she does......

"Mom. MOM! Open your eyes! Why did you buy a new phone?"

"The old one died Em"

"It did? Where did you put it?"

"Phone purgatory Em, now hush, you're waking Elle up"

She is undeterred. "Yeah I hear her. I think she's hungry again. Hey mom, why do you feed her (makes circular motions around her chest) on your, you know things?"

"Because they're free and it's good for her"

"There's three?" she says and lifts her shirt looking, presumably for the third nipple that has eluded her for 5 years.

Me.

Hi, I'm me. I have six kids. Six freaking kids. I'm not entirely sure at what point my ovaries converted to Catholicism, but the bastards are devout.

I also have a husband. He loves me so much that he recently allowed a Urologist to do "bad things" to him, so that he never again has to run to the store at 11pm to fetch gummy bears. He also has the most impressive ass EVAR.

I live in Bumfark, Pa. If you've never been to my happy hamlet, the slogan here is: Bumfark. Most of us have all our teeth.

That about sums me up.