My Ass Hurts!

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PITA

Yes, you read that correctly. My ass, does in fact hurt! Why does my ass hurt? I will gladly explain what is causing my ass pain.

Child 1 : Likes to fight with Child 2. Loves to leave dirty laundry on the floor. Hates to share video games. Doesn’t enjoy eating vegetables. Forgets everything. I am not exaggerating on this one, like EVERYTHING!

Child 2: Also enjoys fighting with Child 1. Loves to change into as many outfits as she can in a day. She like to go through my closet to try on my shoes and scuff them. She hates to share. She doesn’t really play with anything. She likes to do things but not play. She would like to employ me as a personal¬†masseuse or entertainment to be ready at her disposal. Loves to spend most of her time setting something up and then abandoning the project. For example, she will pull out tables, blankets, toys, clothes to set up a pretend store, but before she actually plays, gets bored, abandons the idea and leaves the mess. ūüė¶

Child 3: She enjoys crying and whining. She loves to ask for things in that sing song whining voice. EEEK!!! She also enjoys changing clothes and often protests getting left out of what Child 2 is doing. She like to secretly write on the walls and then pretend it wasn’t her, even thought it says her name. She hates to use the bathroom and needs to be dragged to use the facilities. She much rather hold it in until she explodes.

Child 4: She like to eat, eat & eat again. When I cut her off, she cries, cries and cries. She has a cry and scream that can probably speak to the whales in the depth of the sea. She likes to get into things she isn’t suppose to, especially something that is important to Child 1, 2 or 3. She enjoys spilling toys on the floor and then running away. She also enjoys changing her clothes, but when I need her to be dressed she lays limp, not wanting to participate in getting dressed. Go figure.

All of this going on simultaneously can be a real pain in my ass. I love them, I truly do. These people are the air that I breathe and my purpose in life, but sometimes they can be real assholes. I have decided to express to my husband that I am at my wits end. These kids are a bunch of assholes. He simply sips his coffee, unfazed and replies, “I blame it on the parents.” ¬†ūüė¶

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Thank you for listening to my rant, again! ūüôā

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Dear Blue Pajama Pants

My Dearest Blue Pajama Pants,

It saddens to me have to write this to you, but I fear that it is time we part ways. Lately you seem to be unwinding at the seems, frazzled and weak. It seems as though I have worn you thin and despite your best efforts, you can no longer provide for me the way you once did.

Indeed, we have been through it all together. I remember when we first met, that glorious night in the hospital. I had just given birth to my daughter and desperate to get out of that dreadful hospital gown. That is when you were presented to me, neatly folded and wrapped in soft white tissue paper, nestled inside a colorful bag. From that day forward I knew we would be close, I just felt it.

We shared countless nights walking the floor with babies, innumerable mornings spent coffee clutching. You always stuck around for the clean up too. Remember that one time we painted the house? You remember, it was late, we waited until after the kids went to bed with my husband. He rolled a stripe of sage green paint on you, right on the back. You thought you were done then, but not me, I still wore you proud. Countless mornings we spent together on the bus stop, it never not once bothered me to be seen with you.

Oh, but now my old friend, you have gone grey and lost color in places, you’ve lost your elasticity, and the holes are spreading. I’m afraid there is not much more you will be able to endure. They say, maybe one more washing. So, before it comes down to you completely unraveling, I will leave you now, as you still have your shape and your dignity. When I look back at photographs of us together I will always be filled with fond memories and adoration I have for you.

Blue pajama pants, its time for me to say goodbye. There will never be another quite like you. You will be missed dearly.

Your devoted friend,

Lisa ‚̧

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Do you have a garment that devastated you to part with? How bad did you let it get?

This doesn’t look so bad, the back is filled with holes. Its not good.

Now What?

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I find I am clutching my mug of steaming hot coffee a bit tighter lately, grabbing for the throw blanket to burrito myself in more often than usual, and procrastinating a little longer before rolling out of bed or stepping out of the scorching shower. Winter has officially set in for Long Island. BRRR!

The garbage is filled with empty cardboard hearts, yes plural, and a new blemish has erupted on my chin (which for me, is unusual). We have gone through several sketch pads, glue sticks and packages of construction paper in this house. The DVR is empty, every book has been read, the toys have been played with and Logos have been built. We have beaded necklaces and bracelets, molded Play-Doh into mini animal shapes and even practiced some school work.

Its only Monday! SIX MORE DAYS! Six more days the kids are home from school and the snacks are depleting at an astounding rate!¬†Its too cold to go outside and after an unexpected vet bill, my budget is a bit tight. ¬†(Doggie is doing fine now ūüôā ¬†)

Its only Monday! Now what?

If it was up to me, I’d remain a burrito all week long reading, writing and editing. Sigh . . but that will not satisfy four energetic children. So does anyone have any great suggestions?


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TO BE OR NOT TO BE?

Confession: I should be at the gym right now!¬† No one will be upset that I am not there, climbing away on the stair machine.¬† No one will even know.¬† Well, except for me, and you, but you won’t say anything right?

Confession: I have been paying for a gym membership for a few months now and have gone a handful of times.¬† Again, no one really cares, or says anything to me about it. Perhaps that’s the problem.

I’d rather, work on my novel, read a book, which I hope will improve my writing or give me ideas, or work on my blog.¬† Like now.¬† All of these acts, require me to sit on my butt, preferable with a cup of coffee and maybe a small sweet snack.¬† Does this count as following my passion or just lack of motivation to be healthy?¬† Hmm.¬† Don’t answer that.

If you look around at people as they get older, you can tell who took care of themselves. I don’t want to be one of those people, struggling to walk, in poor health. I want to be a little spit fire,¬†zipping around everyone, with¬†a zest for life!¬†I want to be like Jane Fonda! Yeah!¬† I know, she is rich and probably had “work” done.¬† You’re right, she did make all of those exercise videos and stayed fit.

Okay, Fine! I’ll go to the gym. . . . tomorrow.¬† ūüėČ

JANE FONDA

My fitness motivation.

Photo Credit: Sportsphoto LTD/Allstar

TGIF – Hectic Morning?

I woke up late today! You know the feeling. Your laying in your warm bed, the weight of the comforters securely resting upon you, the room is dark, leaving you guessing what time it is. When you finally give in to fluttering your eyes open and stretching your legs out, that wonderful feeling of blood rushing from your pinky toes to your fingertips, while you curve your back off the mattress, immediately followed by the relaxing release. You contemplate rolling over for just a few minutes more, it must be so early,¬†you think to yourself. ¬†That’s exactly when my responsible six year old daughter came in my room, with her new fuzzy robe tied tightly over her pajamas, “Mom, I think its late. Don’t we have to get ready for school?”

What?!! What time is it?!!! ¬†Shit! Its late, my son has less than twenty minutes to catch a bus and the girls and I have only forty minutes to compromise on reasonable outfits! I glance out the window and it looks as if we have been inserted into someone’s snow globe. ¬†A thin blanket of untouched snow covers the ground, while a whirlwind of tiny white flakes dance around in the sky. There is no way I want to have to drive kids to school today! They must catch the bus!!!

I practically throw a bowl of cereal at my son, while chanting at him to HURRY! While he consumes spoonfuls of flakes, I am kneeled under the table getting his socks and shoes on, there is no time to waste. ¬†After swooping his bowl away, rush him through brushing his teeth and hair, getting on his coat, hat and gloves and running him out to the bus stop – WE MADE IT, just in the nick of time. ¬†Returning back into the house, I have just under a half our to get the two girls ready, which would be ample time for any other child, I’m sure. However these girls will drive me crazy. I will have to give ultimatums before we “agree” on a suitable outfit for school. They would prefer to wear their white dress shoes from Easter, blue tights, red and green tutu with an orange sweater. ¬†I insist that they look like Rainbow Brite. They inform me mismatching is cool! Duh! Have I mentioned its snowing out? ¬† “Go put on leggings, boots and a sweater.” They look at me wide eyed. “Please” I add for good measure. ¬†Nothing. They just stand there. “Go!” I snap sternly. We don’t have much time left before the bus comes. “NOW!” I need to holler out before they turn on their heals and change their ridiculous outfits. ¬†My little one is in nursery school twice a week, which is not today! Thank the heavens. Although, she’s easier to comply.

We made the bus! Their teeth were brushed, hair was done, and dressed for school in adorable and practical outfits. ¬†Its a Friday miracle!! These two are in Kindergarten and 1st grade! I know I’m in for it! ¬†I have tried planning out clothes the night before and have rewarded them for being easygoing. I have removed all “crazy” clothes, not to temp ¬†them and have given in to them, so they can just get it out of their system – Nothing works!

Am I alone here? Does anyone’s children believe they are attending a red carpet event, when they have to leave for school? ¬†Has anyone else’s children have no rational thinking when considering the weather? ¬†Anyway, I am going to sip my coffee and think about the moments of when I was in bed, blissfully unaware of the time. ¬†TGIF!!!

The People I Live With

I’m worn down. Underneath my nose is chapped and raw, as I take in a series of short breaths.¬† My eyes are watery, my bones are achy and worst of all, I can’t taste my coffee.¬† My symptoms come as no surprise, just proof of the affection I have received from the people I live with.¬† These same people have been screaming and whining throughout the house, like a sword slicing through my ear drums.¬† They have been arguing and fighting, tumbling down to the floor, vibrating the walls. I am forced to live with people that are slobs, leaving piles of their¬†things everywhere,¬†dishes in the sink and a trail of dirty laundry.¬†Sharing a bathroom with them¬†has become intolerable, toothpaste on the vanity, paper on the floor, and¬†you can¬†almost always count on a surprise¬†waiting in the toilet.¬†¬†I live¬†with an¬†inconsiderate bunch, just when I sit, they ask for a favor.¬† Just when I take my first bite, they beg for seconds.¬† I cohabitate with the most unorganized¬†group of people you could imagine.¬† The moment they put anything down, its lost!¬† Better yet, they rely on my ability to see before they are able to use anything. These people¬†have¬†no consideration for boundaries and what belongs exclusively to me. They are constantly asking for help, always needing, always wanting.

Just when I decide, “I’ve had enough, I’m going to find a new place to live,” they widen their adorable little eyes, reach their tiny little arms around my neck and call me “mommy.”

Although they aren’t the ideal housemates, I do love them anyway!

It has just been a rough day!