The Evil Dustbunnies

In the Weasley household it is hard to find the culprits for anything that goes wrong. There is no accountability for messes made; for chores undone. The list is infinite. Daily we hear, who flooded the bathroom? Who forgot to feed the dogs? Why is Bella chewing on a headless Lego mini fig? What do you mean it wasn't headless?!

The classic answers of "not me" "I don't know" and "huh?" prevail around here and honestly make me nuts in the same way they have made all mothers nuts for centuries. My kids deny knowledge of everything and anything with so much savvy that their futures look bright for careers in politics. Therefore, in an attempt to preserve my sanity (as I have to have someone to blame for the bedlam that rules my life), I have created the Evil Dustbunnies. 

 

The Evil Dustbunnies (EBs) are responsible for everything that goes wrong or is left undone. Just like my kids, the EBs are sweet and innocent looking.But as The Wolf says in HoodWinked! "never trust a bunny." The EBs thrive on topsy-turviness. They live for pandemonium; chores left uncompleted, Thursday folders left unsigned, keys and shoes misplaced, "dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!"

•  Misplaced cell phone? (oh, yeah, the house cell is missing. Might delay returning your calls.) Dustbunnies. 
• Clean laundry scattered all over the living room because it's not put up like I asked? Dustbunnies.
• Empty boxes in the pantry? Dustbunnies.
• Avalanches on Mount Washmore? Definitely the Dustbunnies! 

There are times that I can control the disorganization. School is in session (EBs tend to rest when the kids are gone), schedules and routines are set and for a while I have been in control. I. HAVE. RULED! I have had the housework well in hand and I was doing a dandy job of juggling work, school, 4 kids (5 counting Daddy Weasley), and the natural disaster I call home. The Dustbunnies cowered before me and my massive collection of cleaning supplies. They were banished by the vacuum, a dust rag and a zealous Momma Weasley that was determined to contain C.H.A.O.S. (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome). However, in my rush to dominate I became power hungry with delusions of grandeur and forgot the cardinal rule to never underestimate your enemy.

Banished dustbunnies have time to re-evaluate and plan. They begin little skirmishes that test my weaknesses. Small messes and chores left uncompleted blossom into huge time sucking monsters. Some days I can quash the skirmishes quickly enough, but then there are the days that I am in such a rush that the carnage is allowed to remain until I have time to deal.

 Bella has been recruited as a double agent and attacks on toilet paper rolls, toys and crocs have resumed. The twins have been drawn to the dark side as well (I swear the bunnies are using Lego bribes), and their room will soon be declared tops on "The worse places to live" list by USA today.Haybug is holding strong, but she is starting to get the look of the overwhelmed....you know, that glassy eyed,”keep your head down so you aren't pegged for a chore” look. And as for Jacks, well lets just say I think I know who the EBs mastermind is....

 

I seem to be losing ground and hard won sanity. The Ebs are gaining more and more holds around the house.Every time I look I see more rooms in disarray, piles of laundry devouring dachshunds, school papers yet to be filed (and some not even looked at), and I have recently come to the conclusion the EBs have discovered germ warfare. It's the only way to explain the sick kids in the house...surely my kids wouldn't milk the sympathies of Momma Weasley to stay home from school.

 

I need new plans of action! I need new recruits! I need......oh who am I kidding?! I just need to put up crime scene tape across the door and warn people to enter at their own risk. So, if you are in the neighborhood feel free to drop in for some coffee and gossip. Just be on guard for a rouge EB or two checking you out to see if you are fresh meat, errrr, I mean hired help. Oh, and bring proof that your shots are all up to date. Better safe than sorry, know what I mean?

 

 

Pep rallies and tears

I've come to the conclusion that there is something seriously wrong with me. Yeah, I know, that's not exactly an earth shattering revelation seeing how I make this conclusion on a daily basis. In this instance though, I am concerned by the fact that I got teary eyed at the middle school pep rally yesterday. I'm talking a tight throat, tears threatening to fall, major mommy moment here.


This was my first experience in watching my boys play in the band, and yes, it moved me. I don't care that it was standard pep rally fare and not soul soothing symphonic compositions. Music aside, it was the fact that AleCam were siting in their sections, looking confident and so sure of their abilities even though they have only been playing 3 months. They are following in my musical footsteps and not only are they having fun, but they are actually enjoying every moment spent learning their instruments.

~~Wow.~~~

I remember with fondness my band years. I loved being in the band...concert, marching, symphonic...call it what you will, those were my Glory Days in high school. I have sweet memories of the friendships, the emotions, the love for the music and my directors. I still remember the accomplishment of a song well played, the pride in hitting all the right notes with no squawks or squeaks.

I can recall it all with clarity. I can tell you my favorite pieces played over 6 years and even hum a few lines. I can remember the dance to “You can call me Al” played in my first season of marching band (and the look on Tonya's face when she told me to hang it up because I was apparently “too white” to do the snake.) Despite the clear memories, it is no longer about me. It is my boys time to have those feelings of pride and accomplishment. Their chance to make those life long friendships. I am no longer an active participant, but a member of the audience. I am watching my boys begin their own Glory Days playing the music I did. It's their time to have the band experience that I loved.

  Like I said before... Major Mommy Moment. I think it was "Hooray for Auburn" that did me in. Stupid song. How many times did we play that in pep band? In the stands on a Friday night? And now, my boys are playing the same song, the same notes and their band years are just beginning.


 There is an old Statler Brothers song that I have always loved, but now after yesterday's rally, I truly get it. "More like my Daddy than me" talks about a father at a sports banquet watching his kid get honored for the year's accomplishments. At some point the de-ja-vu kicks in and he has the realization hit that while he used to be the one on the stage he is now sitting in *gasp* his father's place. My favorite part of the song are the lines:

 "20 some years from tomorrow
These same boys and girls will find
An old fading newspaper clipping
Yellow and torn up with time
Their daughters and sons will be standing
Up there where they used to be
And only then will they know what I'm feeling
When they're sitting out here with me"

Standing in the old stuffy gym at Drake Middle School watching my boys play, I had that moment. The realization that *gasp* I am more like my Mommy than me.....

Happy 6th Birthday to the littlest Weasley

You've heard all the old cliches about time flying by, right? How it  passes too quickly; becoming faster the older you get?  Never do I think more about time slipping away then when one of the kids is celebrating a birthday. A birthday equals another milestone passing. Another milestone closer to them being an adult...on their own....out of the house...no longer needing their Momma Weasley 24/7. *sob*

6 years ago, just 1 week shy of my 32nd birthday, I received the surprising news that I was expecting. Wow, talk about cutting things close. I had always said if we did not have the 4th kid by the time I turned 32, we. were. done. I guess I issued a challenge to the fates by always saying that. Honestly , we had so much trouble getting pregnant, I didn't think it would happen without actively pursing it (which we weren't). *insert sarcastic, maniacal laughter from heaven*  We never had a surprise pregnancy before due to fertility treatments and time tables to get our other three, and just when I was so sure we wouldn't have another baby in the Weasley household, God blessed us in the most amazing way.

Jacks arrived to three older siblings that couldn't wait to teach him all they knew, share what toys they deemed him worthy of touching and fights over who's bed he would sleep in first. 6 years later he has decided he is just as smart or even smarter than his siblings (and trust me, he knows things that they had no clue of at 6), doesn't wait for an invitation on the toys, and they are still willingly playing musical beds with him, still fighting over where he will sleep for the night.

Jacks was my chance to slow down (believe it or not) and enjoy all the milestones of the first year when I actually had a chance to revel in it all. I had finally grasped after the three older children just how fast Jacks would grow and change and I was so thankful for another chance to mark every step. He has taught Haybug to be the perfect "little Momma", she is only second to me in how she cares for him. He has given the twins a hero worshiper; someone who looks up to them and gives them a sense of responsibility in being role models.

Jacks is full of curiosity, love and imagination. He adores his puppies, Toy Story and all things Harry Potter.  He can push the limits, my patience and most of all, the boundaries. But he can also give great hugs, kisses and is a pro at wrapping me around his finger.My life truly became complete the first time I held him. He is, with his siblings, my heart.

Happy Birthday my sweet baby boy......I love you.

~~My gift to you~~

Surprises hide in the most unexpected places. After stumbling into the bathroom at 5:30 this morning, I realized quickly that something was not quite right. It wasn’t the pile of dirty clothes that never seem to make the basket, nor the empty shampoo bottles Cooper chucked out of the tub last night. It wasn’t the shredded roll of toilet paper that evidently insulted Bella after I fell asleep. That’s all par for the course around here. What caught the attention of my sleepy eyes was a vase of flowers sitting on the counter. Bright fall colors that warmed the room and yes, I admit it, made me smile.

Wayne walked in soon after and I thanked him for my surprise. Not one to focus on the mushy emotions surrounding an unexpected show of affection, Wayne just shrugged and apologized for forgetting the bread on his midnight run to Kroger. He then warned me the clock was ticking and there were showers to take, lunches to make and four kids to kick out of warm beds.

 Despite the prompt to get moving (and the whipsered "I smell dead people" as Wayne moved the vase to another part of the counter), I was thankful to be given a moment to focus on what’s important before the crazy and quite chaotic morning routine began; blessed by a desperately needed chance to realign my priorities after a long week.

So, in the spirit of love, friendship and all those embarrassing touchy-feely emotions, I want to share my flowers with you. Take a moment to relax, appreciate the day you’ve been given and count your blessings one by one.

 

Oh, Just shoot me already..no wait!

It been been one of those weeks. Sick kids, a messy (well messier than usual)/disorganized house, pleads for volunteers/money/sellable organs from the 3 schools, and a huge case of seasonal allergies run amok. One of those weeks when you look up at the heavens and quote that memorable line from the '94 version of The Little Rascals: "And the clouds opened up and God said, ‘I hate you, Alfalfa.'"

Oh, I know God doesn't hate me. Trust me; I know I am more than blessed for His love. But there are some days when not even that unconditional love is enough to convince me I am not paying for some past transgression. It's either that or my Mom's whammy of "hope you have one just like you" got some extra oomph from the great beyond. So on days like this; when the pity party threatens to knock at the door again, and I consider the option of running away and living under a bridge, I scroll through the pictures of the kids saved on the hard drive until I smile and remember why I do what I do……

Here are some outakes from a recent photo session to get current pics for the blog. Things started out well enough, but like any Weasley outing, things quickly go south.....

 
 ~~Jacks, declaring himself King of the family






~~The Twins fighting for domination of the other, all while Haybug yells for them to work with Me....

Haybug Looking all cute and sweet...notice the chase in the background? Cam said something to set off Al, and poor Jacks is out of the field of the camera, running after both of them all while screaming for his boys to wait up.



Dull moments?


No way......What fun would that be? :0)

The Super Mom complex

Super Mom, Super Tired. Yep, that’s me. It would appear that with the arrival of fall comes the arrival of some freaky virus that zaps the life sustaining energy right out of you. Fantastic.Just what I need. It’s not like I have been on top of things lately, and now I have no energy to even think about giving a darn. Laundry is piling up so quickly I would swear the kids are just pulling things from the closet to throw directly into the laundry area. My kitchen is depressing and dear, sweet Daddy Weasley is trying to help. Unfortunately, his help results in the dreaded “hide and seek effect” for when I need something. I swear I am going start singing “Olli olli oxen free” the next time I cook dinner.

As I sit in the living room studying the kids’ interpretation of a Cat 5 hurricane’s damage, I can’t help but have a pity party. In the past a little virus would not have gotten the best of me. In junior year of high school I dragged my flu ridden body to class to keep perfect attendance (My only out from taking Mrs. Nix’s chemistry final). In college, I fought colds, flus, and offers to skip class to sleep to ensure that my grades stayed scholarship worthy. Even when the kids were younger, I downplayed my symptoms so that the household would not suffer when Momma Weasley got sick. I used to laugh in the face of chaos and stress. In fact it used to be my drug of choice. Now I go off searching for a blanket, my current book and the Weather Channel when I feel the slightest clutch in my chest.

How did I arrive at this point?

I truly think it all ties into the myth that we are supposed to be a Supermom. We are supposed to keep everything organized, running smoothly and we are not supposed to get sick, tired or frustrated. But you know what? I am not accepting that any longer. There is no way to do it all.I don’t care if you have one kid or your own basketball team; things are going to get neglected, fall through the cracks or just get tossed directly on the trash pile.

And even though the resulting guilt is huge, we shouldn’t allow it to be. Our worth as a mom should not be determined by the white glove test, the amount of money raised for the current fundraiser of the month, or the lack of items falling out of the SUV in the carline at school. Instead, we should be focusing on the amount of giggles, smiles, and life lessons we share with our children. Our worth should be determined by how well we prepare our kids for adulthood and how well we assist them in their relationship with God.

My sanity and a healthy self-image should be more important than my ability to impress people with my overachievements and multi-tasking. Somewhere along the path of parenthood I have forgotten this. I have placed other people’s opinions of me as a supermom ahead of my duties as Momma Weasley. It’s time to stop the madness and focus on what’s important. To do what I can, the best as I can. To learn how to say no to anything that is going to push the limits of what I can handle. A stressed, sick mom is no help to anyone and it only goes to serve the cycle of guilt.

From this point on I am going to try better to forgo the mommy guilt and just accept the fact that I am doing the best I can. The house doesn’t have to be showroom worthy, the schools will not fall apart if I don’t have a clue what’s going on every time the doors open, and the kids are pretty good at picking up after themselves, so maybe I should let them…even if it’s not the way I would do it.

I am going to embrace the idea that as long as the kids are healthy, happy and relatively clean, then life is good…… Care to join me?

My Boys of Fall

Fall has arrived in Auburn! Cool brisk air swirls the leaves in my driveway, football (AHS and AU) is the talk of the town, and Pumpkin Spice Latte is back at Starbucks. It’s the time of year when little imaginations turn to ghosts, mischief and what to be for Halloween. The time of year for field trips to the zoo, pep rallies and escaping town on home game weekends.


Fall of 2010 has started with a bang and a milestone of a birthday. The twins turned 13 on September 19th. In the time it takes to blow out candles on the cake, we have two teenagers in the house. Anarchy reigns, bickering is up 28%, and all of sudden dinner table discussions include the sentence “when we start driving.” (Insert hyperventilating Mom here). Driving? Excuse me, but didn’t they just learn to walk? How can they even be thinking about cruising the streets of Auburn? I can’t imagine them walking down the street on their own and now they want to drive?!


And it’s not just the desire to drive and the thrill of impending freedom that’s resulted in four new grey hairs. My contemplative set of twins is already planning driving schedules and responsibilities! They actually asked me yesterday if getting Jacks to school will be one of their chores. (I really need to start carrying oxygen with me; this hyperventilating can get pretty serious.) . I better nip this in the bud, and fast or it’s going to be a long three years till they turn 16 and get their driver's licenses.


The idea of making their legal driving status contingent on college graduation is looking better and better. When they enter college I will still be, at least I pray I will be, of sound mind and body and able to drive. As it stands, I have the Mom’s taxi service thing down to an art. If we fast forward to that point in time, Jacks will be moving to the middle school, Haybug will be a junior and it’s not like I won’t still be carting them around. What's two more still in the car? Yeah, just the thought of delaying this crazy driving idea a few more years is already making it a little easier to breathe.


So, as if two teenagers in the house weren’t enough to make your heart skip a few beats, I have something else to spook you with. Are you ready? In 18 days….oh this is so hard for me…my baby boy will be turning 6. *sob* did you hear me?? S.I.X. No longer will Jacks be considered a toddler. At least I could delude myself into thinking he was still my baby as long as I could buy him toddler sizes. But there is no 6T in fashion, people! He is already slimming up, growing taller. Before long, I will be looking him in the eyes without getting down on my knees (hmmmm, maybe that will be a good thing, my knees are taking this aging thing kind of hard). Before you can blink he will be graduating, getting married and having his own kids… all in the same day if he has his way about it knowing Jacks.


I am so not ready for this. Appreciating Jacks’s strong will and his belief that he is 6 going on 26, he will probably want to drive soon too. Anything his boys can do, he can do better, faster, and result in 20% more grey hairs for Mom. *sigh* But despite the lack of oxygen, the need for multiple bottles of Clairol, I love my boys of fall with all of my heart. It just hurts to watch them grow up so fast; to be so eager to be adults when I know adulthood is not as grand as it’s supposed to be....


Did I mention that Haybug turns 11 in November as well? No? Well that can wait. I think we’ve all had enough panic over growing old for one night.