Threshold of Hell

This is the bathroom. The bathroom my kids use. I wont open the door any more than that and if you came knocking on my door, doing a dance and begging to use my facilities, I would let you in, walk you through my home and into my backyard and let you pick a tree to water.

Children of the Corn

My 6 yr old loves corn on the cob. But remove the cob, and the corn morphs into something awful. And so does my 6 yr old. This standoff lasted 120 minutes before the kernels were consumed.

Decay

My 5 year old is sitting at the table eating chicken nuggets this afternoon and he says, "You know why I DONT like the hospital? BECAUSE OF THE SHOTS!!!"
Wow.
Talk about drudging up the past.
This time however he has a little parrot now to reiterate the point. Just in case I missed it the first 8 kajillion times he randomly brought it up.
TMy two year old jumps out of his booster seat and with his arms straight down and pointed back presumably to make his voice punch me in the brain a little harder, yells, "YEAH! WE DON'T LIKE HOPTALS!"

Dually noted. Thanks guys.

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.)