A little taste...

This is an email I received from Princess Shannon this afternoon. No changes have been made.


Dear mom,

Hi! How’s work? And Kristine? What’s happening there? Is there anything amazing happening there? Mike, Brianna, and I got out of the pool and Michael almost made me drowned by pushing my head under water without holding my nose and he kept pushing my head under ground until I kicked him and while I’m typing right now he’s punching me in the arm.


Best person hating Mike,

Shannon


p.s. ground Michael please!!!!!!!!!!!!


Oh, how I love when they are not in school :-P

To tear or not to tear my hair out...that is the question

Rather than let my children remain idle all summer, I like to give a couple of chores before I leave for work to remind them that, unfortunately for them, they were not born sloths, but rather human beings. The chore I left yesterday was to weed around the flagpole before the flag looks like it is miraculously hovering above waves of grass.

Now that summer vacation is here, I find my home number scrawled across my caller ID at work at least 10 times a day. So on more than one occasion yesterday I had a chance to remind my little royal offspring of their one chore for the day.

"Is the weeding all done?"

"We started it, Queen Mum."

"You started it, wonderful. But is it finished?"

"No, not yet."

"Why do I hear the television on if the weeding isn't finished?"

"We were just taking a little break."

Now water breaks are fine, lunch breaks are fine too...TV breaks, however, are not fine. TV breaks become all out battles of will, as in "will" be incredibly difficult to pry oneself off the couch once situated there.

So I get home hoping the weeding was finished...but knowing better. As I drive up the driveway I see the wheelbarrow next to the flagpole, only half full, and plenty more weeding to be done. I began my voice exercises in the car, ready to let them have it. But then, I walk in the door...Prince Michael has instead decided to clean off all the kitchen counters (which I must admit, he did one hell of a job) and make a beautiful bouquet of phlox and a single rose from our yard.

So now what do I do? Punish him for not getting the job done that I asked to be done or thank him for the job that he did? The answer: both. No electronics for the rest of the day and into the next day until the original request was completed. I swear these kids must but secretly investing in Lipitor.

There's no place like home...there's no place like home

Yes, indeed, summer vacation for the kiddies has arrived. This is much to the delight of Queen Mum, but much to the chagrin of King Pop, who must sleep during the day and then ride off on his horse at night to keep us from royal bankruptcy.

The morning mood in the house is decidedly more relaxed. For the next two months I can relish the fact that I won't have to yell...

"Will you just (insert one of the following)

get dressed
brush your hair/teeth
stop fighting with your sister/brother
eat you breakfast
find your recorder
stop playing with the dog
put your homework in your backpack
make your bed
stop complaining about how much you hate your school/teacher/the kid who sits next to you

before you miss the bus again!"

This morning, in fact, Princess Brianna came into my room as I was getting ready to leave for work; she was sleepy, yet smiling. "Wow, Mum, you look beau'ful. When you retire can I have that shirt?"

I love those little golden nuggets that fall into my lap on occasion. Now I'm on my way to my 36th birthday this summer, and with the fat ass mortgage we're carrying I don't plan on retiring for about another 30 years. "Of course you may have it, Princess Bri," I replied with a smile. Provided, of course, polyester and nylon have shelf lives 15 times that of the average Hollywood marriage. Does Cryogenics do shirts?

Sleepovers, Weepovers

Having sleepovers were a dreaded thing for me in the past for a few reasons...

1. I couldn't yell at my kids with the normal gusto I usually bestowed upon them when they did something wrong.

2. I had to slave over the griddle longer for an extra batch of pancakes

3. Hearing "Why don't I get to have someone sleep over?? *insert sibling name* gets to have someone sleep over. It's not fair!"

4. Being woken up at 3 a.m. with fits of high-pitch laughter from the adjacent bedroom.

5. Having to repeat numerous times "He/She is your guest. You should do what they want to do. You can't force them to play something they don't want to play." and then hearing in reply, "But it's OUR house." Perfectly sound argument, until I think about how this translates into real life..."Hey there, Boss, I know you wanted that report on your desk by Noon, but hey man, it's MY life."

In any case, now that all three of my children are at an age when they can all have sleepovers, it's been great. In fact, I make it a point to have all three have someone over on the same night as to avoid Reason #3.

"6 Kids?!" you say?

But honestly, it is easier because God knows how siblings will fight, but when their friends are within earshot...best behavior all around. After all, they don't want their friends to go back to school on Monday telling everyone in class what raving lunatics they really are behind closed doors. Best leave that information to the blood relatives only.

Ahhh, thunder storms...

After another lovely day in the office, I drove home under a gray sky where storm clouds seemed to be speeding along much faster than I was. (Oh wait, I was sitting in traffic...good chance they were moving faster.)

My six year-old, Princess Brianna, has somehow developed a horrible fear of thunder storms, so I was ready to put on my Consoling Cloak of Protection the moment I threw off my high heels.

When I stepped through the door, the thunder was nearly upon us. I stepped over to the sliding door with Princess Shannon and Prince Michael to view the African dancing trees as they swayed further than I would even attempt to bend my body.

"Come hither, Princess Brianna, all is well," I said. "Queen Mum will hold you, don't fret."

With trepidation, she began moving in my direction when Prince Michael declared, "Look! It looks like a tornado! Look at that cloud over there...it looks like a funnel coming down!" That's the last time I'm letting that kid watch The Day After Tomorrow.

Before I had a chance to get my hands around his little royal neck, Princess Brianna retreated to the hallway with hysterical sobs where her tears rivaled that of the rain pouring outside.

I told Princess Brianna to retreat with me to my bedroom. Naturally all three decided to tag along. I had read a folklore story the same day about Quackling, a duck that had loaned a King some money, but refused to pay it back. So I relayed this story while the thunder clapped and lightning burst.

After I finished my story, all three clamored to tell their own stories. By the time these stories (which turned into plays) ended, so did the storm.

So I find that consoling words only do so much...distraction is the key. Julie Andrews, of course, knew this already.

DO NOT break down!

Two weeks ago Princess Shannon came to me in the morning "Queen Mum, my stomach hurts." Sure, she may have been telling the truth. There had been a little something going around the school, but I was wary. She had confessed to not liking school quite verbally within that previous week.

After going through the motions, "Let's check your temp.", "Have you gone #2 lately" etc., etc, she seemed she SHOULD be fine. The true QM SHOULD have made her go to school, but Princess Shannon found me in a weak moment. I was not in the mood to hear whining that morning, and I envisioned her going off to school and me being called by the school nurse just as I reached my office, "Hello, Mrs. Mum, your daughter just puked all over her math quiz. Please come and pick her up. Oh, and by the way, she told us that she informed you her stomach wasn't feeling well before leaving for school this morning." So instead I said, "Alright you can stay home for today."

Suddenly, I was the best mom in the world. "I'll get all my reading done, take care of the dog, blah, blah, blah." Gee, that stomachache certainly wasn't inhibiting her mood anymore.

Later when I checked in, King Pop said she had no issues and seemed quite well. OK, so she got away with a free day.

Children do not have a very good sense of time; barely 2 weeks have passed, and Princess Shannon again gives me the "I have a stomachache" line. She was smarter this time though, she started planning her 3 day weekend by verbalizing these pains the night before.

QM might break down once in awhile, but not this time. This is where the story of the little boy who cried wolf comes in. If she is sick, I want the nurse to save that puked-on piece of paper, and then perhaps I will apologize to Princess Shannon.

Don't break down. Once you do, they'll try to get you at every turn.

Sniff, sniff...

My first baby, Prince Michael, will be 13 tomorrow...this morning he woke up at 5:30, got dressed, brushed his teeth, fed and took the dog out, then cooked scrambled eggs for me and his sisters and served them to us in bed.

Hell, I must be doing SOMETHING right.

What to do, what to do?

I've just been given a gift via email from my boss...

Subject line:

U can go @ 2: 30 today

I'm thinking "oh, goodie, goodie." (These little gifts do not happen across my desk very often, trust me.)

So now I must decide: what kind of a mother do I want to be today?

Option 1-I could head home right away, arrive around the same time as my little angels, spend some time in the yard, and take my time preparing our evening feast.

Yeah, right. By 4:00 I will be saying to myself "WHY did I think this would be a good idea?" after I've broken up the 3rd round of arguing between those said "angels".

Option 2-Head down the street to a popular restaurant/bar to have a couple drinks and a few laughs along with other local business folks.

What do you think QM would do?

The early bird catches the (sanity) worm

Are you letting your kids be your alarm clock in the morning? Getting shaken awake by your young ones is about as invited as your dog on your newly waxed floor after rolling in a mud pile. You just want to scream "get out!" Is this really a good way to start your day?

You must get up before your children if you really intend on making it through motherhood with some brain cells left.

"But I go to bed so late. I'm too exhausted to wake up early."

Does Letterman or Leno have to see you drag your cranky ass up in the morning? Do yourself and your children a favor: Be up and ready when the troops arrive.

You need this time to yourself, because by the time you get those little energy drainers to bed in the evening, you can't truly enjoy that alone time because you have nothing left in you to enjoy it. It won't be easy at first if your not accustomed to seeing the sun rise, but you and your children will be happier for it.

Raising a child or a monster? Getting to know QM's philosophy...

Though we all know that our little bundles of joy never came with an instruction book, here are a few things that would be in it:

1. Change their diapers (not beyond the fourth birthday for dog's sake!)

2. Bathe them

3. Feed them

4. Clothe them

5. Teach them:

a. their colors
b. the alphabet
c. responsibility
d. organization
e. self-sufficiency (yes, they can pack their own lunches and pour their own breakfast at age six. Mine do all the time. Don't you have enough to do already?)

6. Hug them when they get hurt

7. Listen to them, but beware, yes, even your perfect child will try to play on your emotions. Don't be played!

8. Support them in their interests

9. Teach them to be team players

10. Make them earn the things they really want either with good behavior or through chores! The things we want do not get handed to us (unless you count those evil little pieces of plastic that keep you up at night). If you're one of those idiots that thinks that those credit cards will take care of themselves after you purchase that large screen TV that's too damn big for your room anyway, you're in trouble, and so will your children if you don't change your own behavior. Be patient! Save up the money first if you want all that crap. You say you can't save that much in a short period of time. Tough! What part of "Be Patient!" didn't you understand? Kids don't need heaps of toys and large TVs. They need you to do the list above.

11. Occasionally spray them with a hose (they love it! And we take fiendish delight in it as well).

So those are the things we should be working on as parents. Your job is NOT to:

1. Indulge your children with the newest electronic crap that comes out on the market because "everyone else has one." Here's where they're playing you. Playing you, I said! Do you want to be played? When they annoy you with these requests, say "CTCA". What is CTCA you ask? Cut The Crap Already. Remember you have a REAL job to do, and indulging your children is not part of that job description.

2. Drop what you are doing to find their shoes, homework, underwear etc for them while they declare "I can't find them ANYWHERE" when you know they haven't moved from the same spot in ten minutes.

3. Let them play their "favorite" video games for "just one more minute" while their dinner is awaiting them on the table. It's never just one more minute...NEVER. And you're a fool if you think it will be.

4. Believe them when they say their homework is done. MAKE THEM get their bags and show you some COLD, HARD PROOF. Do this UNTIL THEY HAVE A GOOD TRACK RECORD of getting it done without your investigations.

This is only the beginning. Email me with specific situations, and I will give you Queen Mum's take. Remember, we're in this together.

The Queen Mum has arrived

To all those mollycoddling mothers of the world...beware! I have no time for your PTO (Please Tell me it's Over) Meetings, bake sales, field days and what have you. Those of you who that have your calendars bursting at the seams with activities intended at making you look like Mom of the Year, here's a clue...there are those of us who don't have time for that crap.

The real mothers of the world are too busy doing those real mom activities; in the bathroom wrestling hairbrushes through our daughters' long locks as they squeal in pain; slapping a few grilled cheese sandwiches on the griddle after working 8, 9, 10 hours for a boss who thinks you have all the time in the world to do his bidding; mowing the lawn when the grass starts tickling the backs of our knees after waiting for our husbands to remember that the great outdoors doesn't reside only on the Discovery Channel.

I'm starting this blog as an outlet for the trials, rants, raves and humorous happenings of one anonymous American woman determined to survive this strange and yet strangely satisfying thing called motherhood. Your humorous stories and questions about being or becoming a "real" mother are invited. I will advise any who are willing to swallow a difficult pill on the correct way to keep your kid from being that little brat over in aisle 2.

Take comfort, my real mothers, you aren't the only ones going crazy.