Tornado Warning

My last post (a hundred years ago) was about registering my son for kindergarten and all the whats if's and concerns and irrational fears.
Well he starts school soon and while the what if's and irrational fears are still very real, they are not quite as real as my desire to survive motherhood and thus the drive for self preservation trumps the fears and since school will offer a brief reprieve from the ever constant battle of the siblings, then off to school he must go!
Im not too sure what he will get from his experiences as school though. Apparently I have done SUCH an awesome job at raising this little man, that at the ripe old age of 5 1/2 he already knows everything he could possibly need to know and is so confident in his knowledge that he no longer feels its necessary to listen to me.
Go Me! :o/
I hope the teachers are prepared for the small tornado I might be releasing upon them soon. I know I am.
Ive got my power suit ironed and ready to put on for my inevitable first visit with the principal. ;)

2,000 pounds of what-if's

I just registered my 5 year old for kindergarten. This is just one tormenting step in a long series of tormenting steps one must take on the road to raising children to adulthood. Im not ready.
When I was little, I witnessed two pink featherless birds fall out of their nest and land inches away from my cat (who was already chomping on the first jumper that I didn't see in time.) I scooped them up and brought them inside. I made a nest for them and used a heating pad to keep them warm. I went to the bait shop and bought a cup of worms and then to the grocery store for peaches.
I fed those two birds pieces of peach and cut up worms using the tweezers from my science set to act as a "beak". I carried them to school with me so I could feed them there, and even brought my baby birds with me to sleep overs. I set them on my finger and raised and lowered my finger to make them flap their wings for exercise.
They grew and thrived and one morning they took flight. In my room. At this point, I knew they need more than I could offer, and I called the Wildlife Society. They came and praised me on a good job, then let me know that some birds learn to fly before they learn to hunt so it was a good thing that I called them. They finished raising them and released them.
I know this is the same thing with my child. He is a wild beast right now, in essence flying around the room. And I realize he needs a little more than I can offer. Im gonna have to call in the professionals. Teachers. I need their help to mold my little beastie into a human being.
*by the way, he is licking my arm and barking at me as I type this*
But I don't want to. I don't want to let go of my baby bird.
What if my baby bird goes to school and gets picked on, or does the picking? What if something happens and Im not there? OH THE WHAT IF's!!!!!
What if he makes lots of friends and one of his good friends has non-English speaking parents and he wants to go visit his friends one day after school and I have to meet the parents first and I get there and we just stare at each other awkwardly because I dont know what to say and neither do they and then I have to turn around and take my son back home and explain to him that I cant leave him there because I don't speak their language and I don't know if they think its okay to let you run around in the street cause that's normal in their culture. No I dont know what culture thinks its ok for kids to run in street, but still!! I cant risk that, so sorry honey you cant talk to him anymore ok? WHAT IF HE GETS JUMPED INTO A GANG AT LUNCH????
Oh my gawd! I cant handle this!
Someone hand me a Valium.
And a grip.
Because I seem to have lost mine.

Meanwhile back at the bat cave....

"You better not call me Stan or any of those other names!"
"Sounds like a plan, Stan."
"No! I AM NOT STAN. Dont call me names!"
"Like what? Like sweetie pie? Hunny Bunny?"
"NO! Stop calling me the names of animals! I dont look like an animal!"
"You dont? I kinda think you look like a teddy bear"
"I am NOT a teddy bear! I dont have fluff on the inside!"
"You dont? What do you have on the inside?"
"BONES!"
"Oh. Ok, well I think you kinda look like an octopus."
"I AM NOT AN OCTOPUS! I DONT SWIM IN THE WATER!"
"Yes you do!"
"OCTOPUSES SWIM WITHOUT FLOATIES AND I SWIM WITH FLOATIES AND I AM NOT AN OCTOPUS!"

2+5=5150

Moooom, its bruke.
(Mama!)
You mean broke?
(What?)
Yeah, can you fix it?
(Mama!)
Here.
(What?)
Thanks.
(Wassat?)
Mom its bruke again.
(Whats what?)
Broke?
(Dog Food!)
Yeah, can you fix it?
(Spit that out!!)
Here.
(*spit*)
Thanks.
(NOT IN MY LAP!)
Mom, its broke again, can you fix it?
(Mama!)
Are you kidding me?
(WHAT?)
No, its bruke.
(Ruff!)
Broke.
(Nice. Go sit, doggie.)
Can you fix it?
(*lick*)
Here.
(Stop licking my arm.)
Thanks.
(Ruff.)
Mom its broke again.
(I smell like dog food, thanks.)

Num(b) Lock

"Hello?"
silence
"Anyone here?"
more silence
"Where are we?"
"Im not sure."
brushing off a thick layer of dust, revealing a sentence:
Every once in a great while, amidst all the yelling and wondering...
"You know what? this is that one chicks blog!"
"Which chick?"
"The crazy one!"
"Oh yeah!! I hardly recognized the place, its like its been abandoned."
"I heard she wrote a book and is too busy canoodling with other famous authors."
"Where'd you hear that shit? I heard she lost her mind and every 3rd Wednesday when the moon is full, if you listen very closely in between the howls of wild coyotes, you can hear her. Yelling obscenities and screeching something about eating broccoli and peeing IN the toilet not ON it."
"Yeah, that makes more sense. Lets get out of here. This place smells."
"Like pee huh?"
"A little."

Cc

Every once in a great while, amidst all the yelling and wondering where youve gone wrong to raise a pair of tiny heathens with no regard for authority, you get an itty bitty reward. A small morsel that you with a great hunger shove in your mouth and savor ever so slowly because you know you may not get another one of those tasty morsels for a very very long time.
I had one the other day. It tasted sweet.
I realize that I am raising two children and the end goal is to release into the wild, a pair of independent thinking, conscientious, smart, human beings. This is tough work. And before you know it, they will have their own opinions and you will no longer be someone they want to be like. I revel in the fact that I can do a goofy dance and they want to copy me. This wont last long. So I like to take advantage of the time I have.
Ok, shut up already. Where am I going with this?
Anyone seen that obnoxious commercial from Ask.com? With the horrible jingle and equally horrible dancing people on it? Tell me you have.
Its been permanently etched into my head.
Let me share a link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bEJqJUKDSWE
Alright, now that I have infected you with that brainwashing ditty, let me continue.
I have been singing and dancing that damn commercial for a week now with no relief in sight.
The other night, my kids are eating dinner and my 4 year old goes, "Hey ladies! Who wants a deal?"
And my 2 year old answers "I do I do!"
They continued on.
"Hey fellas! Who wants a deal?"
"I do I do!"
"Hey chickens! Who wants a deal?" (you knew he had to include chickens right??)
"I do I do!"

My husband walks past me and says, "I hope you're proud of yourself."

Oh honey. You don't even know.
(wipes a tear)

Cannons and Kleenex

I was feeling a bit festive today and put on some Christmas music. Then this song came on:

Amazing Christmas Canon -Trans Siberian Orchestra - The funniest movie is here. Find it And my mind immediately went back to one afternoon around this time last year.
Or maybe it was the year before....my mind is all but gone.
Anyways. My husband and I were driving home from a doctors appointment for my youngest son. I was frazzled since he had shots and hates doctors and essentially screamed the entire time we were in the building. Christmas Canon was playing on the radio and we were driving past the hospital and stopped at a traffic light. On the corner was a father holding the hand of his son who looked to be no more than 3. I remember that the pajamas he was wearing stood out in the gray winter day. As they crossed the street, the little boy, still holding his fathers hand, jumped up and off the curb and then scrambled across the street.
The little boy was bald.
My guess is that he was a cancer patient.
I watched him walk across that street in his jammies with his dad and it just struck a chord with me and I started crying.
I was overwhelmed with sadness for them, gratefulness of what I have and I think that damn song pushed me over the edge.
Now every time I hear this song I think of that little boy.
I don't know where you are little guy, but I hope you are happy and thriving and feeling a bit festive too.