A rant....if you will.

You know what I don't get?  I just do NOT get douches that feel it necessary to yell rude things out their open car windows as they drive by you.  I mean really....what the hell is that about?  Other than the fact that they're clearly douches with no self worth and it helps them feel somehow better about themselves and their own sorry ass lives to yell some rude slur at you.  Whatever.

An illustration...if you will:

This morning Max had a little friend over to play.  When it was about time for Grant to go home, I decided that we would walk him home.  Because goodness knows my keister needs some form, ANY form of exercise at this point.  It's a fairly short walk anyway, and it would be great for Max, as he loves to get out and run.  I put on my shoes, gathered my water bottle and cell phone and off we went.  Now...I may or may not have been wearing my rattiest pair of capri pj pants and a t-shirt, both of which were 3 sizes to big.  I clearly hadn't showered and was looking my absolute "hottest" for sure.  But hey, short walk, getting exercise, letting the kid play.  The boys took off like a shot, and by shot I mean....rocket ships.  I was half a block behind those two, but they were sooo happy.  Before we knew it, we were at Grants house, and I'd already waved and said hello to three people I knew.  After leaving Grants, I decided to walk up past our old house and around the block into our old ward neighbord  (sadness filled my heart).  As I was walking up the busier "main" street a gold truck went by and some totally mature, self respecting assmunch yelled out "SLOB" at me.  Really?  REALLY?  I have never wanted to chase down a truck and punch a person in the face more.  What the hell do YOU know you douche?  In the immortal words of my dear Jer...."sorry about your dick dude." (he says that any time some guy peels out in their car, or drives a huge truck and tries to show off like a dork).

Dear loser in the truck:

I'm so sorry that you're life is so pathetic and miserable that you felt like yelling at a random stranger would make you feel better.  I'm sorry that you feel superior to the random MOM walking down the street by calling her a rude name.  I'm sad for you and your tragic life.  Sad that you have NO idea who I am, WHAT I am or how FAR from a slob i am (though to be fair, my clothing choice may not have presented that in the best light).  Here's hoping you can grow up and get a real life and realize that name calling, as you drive by in a truck is so freaking cowardly.  Put your big boy pants on and act like a normal human.  There is never any call for name calling, most especially to complete strangers who have done nothing to you.  It proves nothing, it gets you nowhere and really, in the end, does NOT make you feel better.

Ever yours,

Walking Mom

Good thing I know I'm WAY hotter than his girlfriend or wife. HAHAHAHAHAHA  I kid.  But, I really did need to get that off my chest.  And, it's not as if that's the first time I've had someone yell something at me.  But seriously, keep your immature, rude thoughts to yourselves.  I DO!

That being said, I'm outy.  Gotta keep my kids and the play guest from beating eachother, and then think about getting lunch for them.  Freaking kids, always wanting to be fed or something. WHAT is up with that?

Sweatpants and punches,

Allyson

What you wanna know...

Right...so I've been M.I.A.  I KNOW!

Lest anyone else, besides Jen thought that perhaps the roaches had mutinied and carried us MVP's all away to their secret lair.....'tis not so.

May I just say....THANK YOU to all of you for making me feel SO.MUCH.BETTER about things with your nice comments.  So glad to know I'm NOT alone.

Reva.....don't even worry, I too have totally yelled at Maggie to be nice to me too, because she's downright MEAN at times.  We have staredowns, we have standoffs, it's all SO mature it's unbelievable!

Darlene.....I too can totally handle Max as opposed to Maggie (the girl child) middle of the night.  And I'm SURE it's because he also is not so much a screamer and a whiner.

Allison....I pretend to be asleep A LOT to let Jere deal with things.  Hahaha

Joel.....growing pains, maybe, except that this has been going on since like birth.  Sometimes she just does it now for something to say, I'm pretty sure.  Could be wrong.  But, I don't think so.

Anyway....thanks for being the best blog friends EVER!

So, without further ado.

First of all, our computers (and by ours I mean Julies, but we all use it) battery died, so we had no computer.  The one we're using currently is Jeres Moms, 'cause she's been out of town for half the month.  Anyway, no computer, no pictures, no mojo.

Secondly, it seems like everytime I pick up the computer, about all I can get done is check facebook and then a few blogs here and there.  Some may notice that i've been ever so quiet on the comment front.  That's because 1. I haven't been reading as much and 2.  this dumb (yet I'm grateful to havfe it to use) computer for whatever reason won't let me comment as myself.  It's super annoying.  So, I've written some comments and then they won't go through.  UGH!

The roach situation is improved, though we had a "moment" if you will where I thought I would die.  We'd got down to zero roaches in 3 days.  I was happy.  Then it was time for Chad to re-bomb the place.  He came, he bombed and only 9 roaches in 3 days.  I was so hopeful.  So happy.  THEN, I made the ridiculous mistake of mopping my floor.  And I kid you not, in an HOURS time, FIFTY TWO freaking roaches came out and died on my floor.  We literally watched them pour out from the dishwasher and bottom cupboards.  It was AWFUL.  But mostly I was just PISSED!  I'm so beyond being afraid of or grossed out, I'm just angry.  I mean what the hell.....are roaches just mad for Pine-Sol or what?  Needless to say, I called Chad, he came back and was gonna take out the dishwasher and look at that, but in the meantime, took everything out of my lower cupboards and found 50 more dead roaches in there.  AWESOME!  So, he decided to drill holes into all the bottom cupboards and dust inside there.  Interestingly enough...we have only had 9 in the last week.  So, we are HOPING HOPING that we have taken care of the issue.  Though I won't lie, I'm not real excited to ever mop my floor.  I don't trust those little bastards.

We've become scorpion hunters.  Jere is all manly man with his gloves, tongs and jar as we scope the perimeter of our house at night and find the little critters.  It's actually kinda fun to hunt them.  Way more fun then finding them in your house and being surprised by them.  Since we started that we've only had one in the house.

So, all in all, things are a bit better on that front.

Max no longer lets me dress him at all.  He INSISTS that he pick out his underpants AND all his clothes.  It is SO hard to let them do that, and then live with their tragic choices of ensembles.  But, it's just not worth the fight.  Half the time I don't even do his hair anymore...cause, why?  Maggie is still fighting clothes choices AND hair every.single.day.  It's exhausting.  Thank goodness Jere is around sometimes, 'cause seriously, he can put her in her place like no other.

Maggie has also turned into a total social butterfly.  She has playdates at least twice a week with her friends and wishes she could be at their houses EVERY day.  She doesn't get why you don't just invite yourself over to anyones house at anytime.  Her latest bestie is Claire, who is the daughter of my sisters best friend.  It's fun to see her developing and growing and playing with her friends.  She's also in a singing class on Monday afternoons and the cutest dance class on Wed. mornings.  My girl has some serious moves.

Speaking of, Max has developed the most adorable little face when he "dances".  I wish I could capture it because it cracks me up so much.  He LOVES to bust a move, which really means jogging in place, or shaking his booty while making his dance face.

He misses Maggie everyday when she's at school and tells her that everytime she comes home.  He LOVES when she has friends over because he is in the center of them playing along with all they do.  He's devestated when she goes to a friends house and doesn't understand why he doesn't get to go too.  That is really heartbreaking actually.

Took the kids on the lightrail Monday night for their first time.  They LOVED it.  We went to the D-Backs game with Porters family and our friend Amy, the ticket queen for all things D-Backs.  It was fun, and a cool little family activity for us.  Quite cute to watch your 4 and 2 year old pumping their fists in the air and yelling "D-Backs, D-Backs." As if they really knew what was going on. haha

Friday night was the 50th Anniversary Homecoming celebration for my Highschool.  I happen to live right by my old highschool and will proudly send my children off to be Westwood Warriors.  Anyway, it was a really fun evening with an Alumni reception, some good eats, visits with old friends, etc.  And best of all, one of my darling students won Homecoming Queen....so awesome.  Her Dad was homecoming King like 35 years ago at the same Highschool.  They even did a big fat fireworks show, which we enjoyed from the backyard of Gramma Dars, because please.....like I was really gonna fight the crowds of THAT game.  Besides....I don't like football.  But, Maggie was quite ticked that she didn't get to go to the football game.  Again, as IF she even knows what such a thing is. 

So, there you go.  A bit of an update as to what I've been up to and where we've been.  Not
too exciting.  But, something anyway.

I'm hopeful to be back with some semi regular blogging, soon.

Allyson

Middle of the Night Parenting

For the record....what I'm about to talk about is NOT something I'm proud of.  In fact, it points out a glaring flaw in my parenting.  BUT, I do feel the need to talk about it, and see if anyone else out there suffers this issue.

Let's get something straight from the get go here.  I do NOT claim to be the best parent, or even a great parent for that matter.  I claim to be a human, a deeply flawed human and one trying to figure out how to take care of these little people entrusted to me and do as little damage as possible.

I'm just gonna talk about one of my biggest flaws for a moment.  'Cause, well, it's just not rational I think, and maybe by talking about it...I'll get better at it.  It's called...middle of the night parenting.  You know, when you're DEAD asleep and then suddenly there is a kid in your face crying about something, or there is a kid screaming out from their bed, or whatever.  And in my case, said kid is Miss Sassy pants and she is particularly demanding in the middle of the night. 

Generally she wakes up telling us her leg hurts.  But that is usually accompanied by A LOT of crying.  Mostly because she's really still asleep and therefore, there is NO amount of reasoning or consoling that does any good.  She just bawls uncontrollably and demands you do things JUST HOW SHE WANTS it.  There is a request for an icepack, which I will go get, but then it's not the right ice pack, or I haven't put the towell on correctly.  This will make her yell at me.  To which I usually yell back.  Then, I don't put the icepack in the right place, or on her leg in the right way.  Or, she insists I lay next to her on her bed, where there is literally not a sliver of space for me.  But she WON'T hear it from me.  Herein is where my great flaw lies.  I become totally irrational myself.  I react to this child like she's somehow aware of what she's doing and also NOT 4 but 24.  I get so angry and frustrated by her yelling, crying and demands that I yell back.  I feel total ICK toward her and can't deal at all.  It turns into a ridiculous battle of wills that goes nowhere.

I hate that I do that.  And even in my half asleep stupor and my total irrational brain, I know it's so wrong.  Yet, I can't seem to fix it.  Does ANYONE else ever have this problem?  Am I the only sucky parent out there that does this?

Because let me tell you...Jere, for all his patience struggles during waking hours is downright magical at middle of the night parenting.  Something takes over him and he becomes this quiet, soothing, loving, smooth talking daddy that can get Maggie to calm down in an instant.  He's so good it even makes me wanna snuggle up and calm down.  In truth...he's FAR better at dealing with Maggie on all levels of discipline and calming than I ever am.

What brings this up is...the other night Jere was out with some friends.  I was sound asleep, when at Midnight Maggie showed up at my bedside, crazy, crying, snarling and uncontrollable that she was afraid, oh and also her leg hurt.  I pulled myself out of my stupor and tried to have her come in bed with me to calm her down.  But, because she's crazy town and really asleep, she wouldn't have it.  She just cried and screamed at me louder.  Then I left her and went to her bed, because I'm mature like that, and also irrational.  She came following into her room and yelled at me more.  So, I got her an icepack, which of course I didn't do the towell right, and I didn't place it on her leg right, etc. etc.  By this time I was at my, "I'm gonna completely lose it level."  So, I got my phone and texted Jere a message somehwere along the lines of...."Where the hell are you?  Maggie is losing her freaking mind and I'm NOT dealing well.  GET HOME NOW."  After which I may or may not have told Maggie to just be quiet.  Then she cried harder and started to ask for her Daddy. I was asking for him too, and then we were both crying.  To his credit, he came right home.  I went to bed, he talked to her for a minute and then she fell asleep.

Seriously.....the rule at this house shall forevermore be....Mom is NOT available middle of the night.  Take it to Dad.

Am I really the only horrid, sucky parent out there that can't deal with thier kid in the middle of the night?  Please...do tell.

Sleepless and sorry,

Allyson

La Cucaracha

I s'pose we should have been a bit more concerned when every time we'd come to look at the house, or do something in the house before we moved in there would be five or six dead roaches.  I mean, it DID concern me, it was gross.  But apparently we should have been MORE concerned.  Upon further reflection, we shoulda asked for a few grand off the price simply for the problem that we had no idea was gonna be SUCH a problem.

Before I continue...please let me make this disclaimer....I am a VERY clean person, as is my home.  I do not live in such a manner that I attract roaches.  The little bastards lived here before we did.  Also, just know that in spite of what you read, all have died on the floor.  None on counters, or near food.  Just sayin.

We moved in and the roaches seemed to mostly disappear.  There would be one now and then, but not so bad.  Doable, if you will.  Though in all my life I've never lived in a house where roaches were a regular occurence.  Well, unless you count that ONE apartment on my mission that was literally owned by roaches.  Shudder....that was horrifying.  They were everywhere and soooo gross.

Anyway, they started to appear a little more often, and while shiver inducing and gross, still doable.  While we were gone to Greer Julie started a roach count on the white board.  In the week we were gone she had seen/killed 7.  And it's clearly not an issue of us being dirty or having a dirty house.  'Cause lets be straight here...I am nothing if not obsessively neat and clean.  So, we kept the count going.  In a months time we had 28.  It was time for our pest control guy (hey Chad, you're the best) to come.  He came, he sprayed, he left.  In the next week we had 29, in one week.  The most unacceptable being....I was standing at the sink doing dishes, Jere was standing next to me and drying.  He set the towell down for a moment to put away dishes.  When he picked the towell back up, a huge roach came charging at him from under the towell.  They're creepy and magic I tell you.

This is exactly what they look like too.

Making me sick just looking at them.

So, I called Chad and said "Yo, it's roachapalooza around here, please come back."  He agreed to come back the next day.  Then he texted and said it would be one more day.  I responded "what's one more day in roach paradise?"  So, on Friday morning at 11:30 Chadwick appeared.  He was determined to find the source of the hideous buggers.  I told him I was pretty sure they were coming from behind the dishwasher.  Basically there is just open space between the cupboards and the outside wall, open to all manner of ugliness.

He walked out to his truck and returned with a giant bucket o' roach death.  Some kind of powder/acid.  Down he got on his knees and pumped and pumped the powder all around the dishwasher, under the sink, in the cupboards and drawers and around the fridge.  "Alright, we'll see how this goes.  If we get to the source there will be a lot of them for the next day or so."  He turned and walked out the door.  I kid you not...4 seconds after he left there were three roaches tets up on the kitchen floor.  Then, within another few minutes, 4 more.  At that point Maggie was sitting on the island and Max was on his little inch worm trike thing.  Suddenly one came running out straight at Max.  The screaming, the fear.  I stomped it and then put Max up on the island.  Every time I turned around there was another one.  Maggie would scream as one would fall out from above the dishwasher.  It was a gosh dang killing field.  Either they were staggering out covered in powder and flailing briefly before death, or they were running for it and I had to smoosh them.  Then, a giant, and I do mean GIANT scorpion came sauntering out from under the dishwasher.  I was frozen.  It traipsed through the powder up next to the fridge, came back down and then went under the fridge never to be seen again.  UGH!  At this point we were up to nearly 20.  I certainly couldn't stay in there, or cook in there so I scooped up the kids and off we went for a LONG nap.

Upon waking up from the nap there were 10 more dead ones in the kitchen, and it just kept happening.

Yesterday morning when there were only 4 dead ones from overnight I thought we were on the downslide.  I decided I needed to mop the floor, as it was covered in the "chalk" outlines of many a dead roachy.  My killing field needed to be cleaned.  So, I swept, vacuumed and mopped and mopped.  And i kid you not...within 10 minutes of the mopping TWENTY more appeared and died.  I had to keep remopping areas where we had to smoosh their black gutts out.  Now i was pissed.

We finally got ready and just went to the mall for a few hours, just so we didn't have to be around roach carnage.  When we came home, only 2 dead.  Again, perhaps we were done.  Nope, there were plenty more through the remainder of the evening.  Little bastards.

In just over one 24 hour span we have had 80 PLUS roaches come out and die on the kitchen floor.  It's seriously sooo freaking gross.  I'm in a living hell.

The only upside (if there is such a thing as an upside) is that we clearly found the source and hopefully we are able to get rid of them once and for all.  The sucky thing is, we're gonna have to do this a couple more times to really kill them off.  I'm not looking forward to THAT at all.  But I am looking forward to life without the fear of opening a drawer and finding  a roach in it.

Yeah....hindsight...it's 20/20.  Shoulda just kept on walking when we noticed all the dead roaches in the first place.  They were trying to warn us of what was in our future.

Death to roaches one and all,

Allyson

Post Script:  As of last night our total was up around 90.  As of this morning, NO new roaches to count.  Halleluia.  Just a kitchen floor covered in random black "spots" where roaches once lay.  I also found a scorpion on the kitchen wall by the laundry room.  And this morning Jere found a scorpion on our bedroom curtain.  THIS SUCKS!  Hoping for a week of peace before we have to bomb again. 

Please don't think less of us, or be afraid to come over.  We'll keep the roaches away from you, I promise.

Wordsmith

"Hey Cooper, will you wash off all those chairs?"
"Uh, that seems to laborious."

That was a comment made by my 12 yr. old nephew during Brooklyns 5th Birthday party.  I LOVE that a 12 year old nephew of mine used LABORIOUS in his conversation.  Awesome.

The other morning, after the kids had played outside for quite awhile, they all sat at the table and I gave them a cup of orange juice.

After taking a long swig of her juice, Brooklyn (a freshly minted 5 year old) let out a sigh and said: "Mmmm, that is SO refreshing."

HA!  She just said refreshing.  Love it!

"Maggie, stop doing that, it's so noying (annoying)"  That's what Max says to Maggie on the regular.  Or, he likes to say...."sersly (seriously) Maggie, SERSLY!"  My little wordy.

I have always had this fascination with language.  I love words, and how they're used, and what they mean.  I loves me a big, ridiculous sounding word. 
Like...Inauspicious, that's a fun one.  Or how about Loquacious that one is all KINDS of awesome.  I also like to use silly phrases like, "how delightful," or "this pleases me," or "you cease to please me." Whatever.

Point is....I might be a little nerdy, but I accept it.  I am what is "commonly" known as a WORDSMITH.

What in the world is a wordsmith (which I prefer to pronounce SMYTHE, thank you very much) you may be asking yourself?  No worries, I looked it up for you and the definition is this:

word·smith   /ˈwɜrdˌsmɪθ/ Show Spelled



[wurd-smith] Show IPA


–noun


1. an expert in the use of words.


2. a person, as a journalist or novelist, whose vocation is writing.
 
Oh shut it people.  Just because I like to use words like Totes, awesome, suh-WEET, and my new one today I'm H to the OT, etc. and completely cool phrases like "and then she was like, and he was like and it was like....." does NOT mean that I don't loves me a good word and fun phraseology.

Here's the deal....for many a year now, I have liked to think of myself as a bit of a wordsmith...an "expert" if you will (::SNORT::).  And mostly, just saying that makes me giggle in my 14 year old way.  I think of my sister Jenny and I spending countless hours talking, giggling, writing ridiculous letters to eachother and using the biggest words we could think of.  For example:  "I'm looking at my hand, and it is rather unesthetically pleasing."  DORKS!
 
I grew up a rather voracious reader.  I lurved me a good book.
Boxcar children, oh don't even get me started people!  BEST BOOK EVER!
Secret Garden, NO WORDS!
The Borrowers.....stupendous.
Harriet the Spy.  Have you ever read something more hilarious?
When it came to Childrens Lit.  I think I pretty much read it all. And I refuse to even think about the fact that my friend Melia was fully reading "Tale of Two Cities" and like "Ana Karenena" by 5th Grade, she was a special case.
In 5th grade I went through my biography phase.  I literally read every biography our school library had to offer.  And for the record "Julia Ward Howe" TOTALLY my favorite one.  I read it 3 times.  Whurrrd.
 
Point is, due to this excellent love of reading, AND the fact that my Mumsy read to us brilliantly, I loved words.  I understood words, big words and enjoyed using them.  Plus, Jenny and I just thought it was HI-larious to use big words in ridiculous phrasing.

Also, I'm sure that the many, MANY games of Boggle I've played with my Dad and siblings has helped.  Goodness knows my Dad is genius, and sorta a master at coming up with the most ridiculous words ever, that generally always end up being REAL words.  But lets just lay this one down....geniousy as my Dad is, I've totally kicked his bootay on MANY occassions.  That always feels grand...delightful, if you will.
 
I can vividly remember being in 6th grade and sitting in the kitchen, while my Mom and older sister (she was a senior) were having a conversation.  She kept using the word comprehend.  She said "I just can't comprehend.....".  I was completely enamored of this word.  I could not WAIT to be able to use that word in conversation.  Fortunately for me, I WAS socially savy enough to know that I should not be using it around my 6th grade crowd.  I never appreciated ridicule, and surely this fancy word would bring it. I mean really...who busts out "Billy, I can NOT comprehend why you just did that?" in the 6th grade?  The very next year, my sister had traded in "comprehend" for "fathom."  Oh my stars above, what a MAGNIFICENT word.  "I just can't FATHOM why he'd do that."  AWESOME!  Again, I was left waiting until I was "old enough" to use such spectacular language.
 
Another of my favorite memories.  So  now I'm young adult, fully "allowed" to use fancy words.  I was standing outside on the front porch of my friend Andreas parents house.  Andrea had a baby, maybe even her 2nd baby.  We were getting ready to run to a wedding reception for another friend of ours.  Andrea was wearing a dress that was not the best for nursing.  So, I said to her "well, that isn't very CONDUCIVE to nursing, now is it?"  She seriously looked at my like I sprouted horns and perhaps a third eye.  She thought it was so funny/wierd that I would use that high falutin word and what did it mean anyway?  Oh it's true Andrea.....don't try and deny it.  This is one of those moments in life I shall never forget.  It's a look I shant ever forget.  'Cause it re-iterated the fact that I'm a word nerd.
 
Language, words are cool.  And I think it's super the grooviest to use it.

However, I'm feeling a little rusty these days.  Perhaps it's time I pull out a book, read something again and you know...dust off the ol' language skills so I can comfortably utter things like fathom and fortuitous.  I don't want to lose my word-smithing street cred.

And so...I soldier on, wordsmithing it up, one STUPENDOUS and PRODIGIOUS word at a time.

I just found this little "gem" in my drafts.  I wrote it back in March and never posted it for some reason.  So, for your reading pleasure, and to up your "word power" hope you enjoyed.


Allyson