A Pound of Manure

I feel a little more than an ounce of pretention as I sit here pondering how to write a "comeback" post...(Blechh. Pondering? I mean, c'mon...) It's just that my ego is a judgmental bitch and all I can hear is her laughing at me, reminding me that I am writing something that no one will likely read or even find online, except for my bestie, whose renewed interest in Chunkyrhino has inspired me to try to start this mother up again. That, and the kids and I had a lot of fun reading back over old posts a while ago...it also reminds me what a terrible memory I have, and that it can't hurt to keep something on file every now and then. Particularly when your life has more twists and turns than the Devil's Backbone.  

Over the past two years, I started a new job, my Dad passed away, my sister had a baby (T), moved back from Arizona, moved in with us for about a year and a half, I quit my job and now stay home to watch T and homeschool Jax. So, just a few changes... 

I'm sure the details of most of those changes will inevitably come spewing out like so much oral diarrhea, but not today, my lovies. Not today.  Today, internet, let's just sit back and smile at the knowledge that I am still out here, fucking shit up and writing it down for all the world to ignore.

Breaking Spring

**Wrote this post a year ago and never actually posted it, but it seems fitting even a year later as I prepare for another Spring Break-ing.**


Good Lord, someone grab me a valium and a case of beer -- Spring Break is FINALLY over!! I'm sure I'm not the only mom who is grateful for the start of school, but I may be the only one to admit it so vehemently. (Cue my version of an Irish Jig)



It's not that I don't enjoy having all this never-ending free time with my kiddos, it's not even that I'm jealous of all those other moms whose husbands can take off the week to spend on vacay, it's more that a vacation for the kids actually does mean more work for me, and for a lady who loves the lazy, this does not sit well.



If I were just dealing with Ryan, I'd be begging for an extra week off -- when it's just us, it's a swirl of rainbows and laughter and Taylor Swift songs bellowed at the top of our lungs. But God Bless him, when you enter Jax into the equation, the world rotates 180 degrees, toilets start flowing backwards, and we all start talking like that little dude from Twin Peaks.



You can't break routine with Jax. That is, not unless you want to deal in screaming banshee for a week, and although at first that may sound totally rockin', when you're 3 hours into a 4 hr screaming match with a 3 year old, it's starts to feel just a bit tedious. I remember before I had kids how I would pray that if God felt I was able, that I would gladly mother a special needs child. Little did I know how many different versions of "special needs" there are. What makes it worse is that he seems so normal. Until you feed him sugar, skip his nap, and tell him he can't use the puppy as a soccer ball -- and then it's all projectile vomiting and head spinning.

Someone call the priest, 'cause either the demon goes, or I'll be needing my last Rites...

Inspiration

Just as I'm musing over no longer feeling the motivation to write, Jax up and gets himself sent to the Principal's office at school today. Well, The YMCA's Mother's Day Out version of the Principal's office, which technically is the office of the lady in charge of child services at the Y, but you get the point.

His teacher is a lovely lady who taught Ryan in the program when she was 3, and lucky for us, she has a son a few years older than Ryan who was exactly like Jax at his age. She's always saying how happy she is to have the opportunity to teach him, and goes out of her way to paint any "incidents" with Jax in the most rose-colored of ways.

Today, for instance, all she said at pick-up was, "We had to visit Miss Toni's office today, but afterwards he did much better. His energy level was just a little higher than normal today."

Which is like saying Rush Limbaugh is just a little pompous. That's all. Just a smidge.

Once in the hallway, I question Jax as nonchalantly as possible, asking him if he got to go see Miss Toni today, and what, per chance, did they talk about? "Yeah," he responded. "I don't know."

"Okay, well can you tell me why you got to go to her office?"

"'Cause I was like jumping and jumping and jumping and then I jumped on the big blue thing and was like ahahahahahaha." Oh. Okay. I can only assume that by the "big blue thing" he meant the big blue tube-slide, and that by going ahahahaha, he meant jumping/scooting all the way down on top of it. Or something.

My questions were quickly dismissed as we were walking by the elderly grandmother of one of his classmates, and he said, "WHOA! She's OLD!"

"Shhh," I scolded, bending down to his eye level. "It's not nice to talk about people like that, Jax."

"Okay," he reluctantly grumbled. Then, in the time it took me to straighten myself up, he'd run over to her, grabbed her dress and yelled, "HEY! YOU'RE OLD!"

And I'm back to blogging. Good time, good times.

Another one from Jax

I know these QOTD's are trite, but I've not been too inspired lately. Unless you want to hear me rattle on about screaming tantrums, hitting, kicking walls and slamming doors. Personally, living through it every day is enough for me. No need to hash out the details. So, in lieu of an actual post, and because I'm digging deep to find humorous bits about this boy, here are his latest quotes:

"Mommy, I'm the FART MASTER!!"

"Hey Mom, I'm going to find the poop with my binoculars."

"How come when I poop it makes my butt hot?"

I'm seeing a theme here...smelling it, too.

QOTD

Jaxson, looking at my many many freckles: "Mom, why you got so many polka dots?"

"Ohhh, Baxter. You are my little gentleman..."

"...I'll take you to foggy London town, because you are my little gentleman."

(Ten points if you can name that movie!)

Just Another Day At The Office

After my workout this morning, I picked Jax up at the Kid's Gym, and as we were putting on his shoes, I asked him how it was.

"Great! Greta was there and I played with her. And I took her jacket and ran and she didn't win, I won."

"I'm glad you got to play with Greta, but maybe no more taking her stuff, okay?"

"Okay....and I played with these guys," (holding up five fingers, then counting them off one by one) "this guy, and him and him, and him, and me!" Excitement oozes.

Right about then, one of the boys comes out of the Kid's Gym to put on his shoes, and as he does, Jax says, "Hey, there's one of those guys!"

"Hey, dude," He calls nonchalantlyin a voice 2 octaves lower than the one he was just using.

The little boy doesn't hear him, but a second later looks up, sees Jax and says , "Hey!"

"Hey," he responds, again, in the casual, non-committal way his dad answers just about all of my questions.

He finishes putting on his shoes, starts to walk away, and throws over his shoulder a "later, bro" as he goes.

And I stand and stare, wondering who exchanged my chatty little 4 yr old boy with this 12 year old pre-man.

Live from ESPN...

NASCAR is definitely back in season. How am I sure of this fact? As I sit typing this in the living room, I can hear Jax in the next room performing his own one-on-one interviews:

(In loud Dad/Announcer voice) "So, Jimmy, what are you doing?"



(Apparently answering as Jimmie Johnson) "Well, I'm winning 'cause my car is big, my wheels are big, and I smell good, and I eat chicken after my race."



(again, in the Dad/Announcer voice) "So, Earn Earnhardt, what happened?"



(As Dale Jr, aka "Earn Earnhardt") "Well, I got in a crash. I went a little like this, and then a little like that and then CRASH! And Jimmie was doing this, and then woohoo! Jimmie wins!! I really crashed, I don't know what happened."



(announcer voice) "Start your engines, get set, go! Vroom, and Jimmie is in the lead, and OH NO, Earn Earnhardt is crashing, and now Jimmie is in the crash, and Jimmie wins!"



"What happened Jimmie, buddy?" Jimmie: "Well, I was in the crash"



And then the loop starts all over again... P.S. In Jax's head, Jimmie Johnson is GOD.