Blah Monday...

Monday strikes again! My day probably wouldn't have been so bad if I had gone to bed at a decent time (a decent time being before 1:30am) and if it didn't rain most of the day.

I was awoken at a little after 6am to the sound of my text message alert sounding from my cell phone charging in the kitchen. To prevent the rest of the house being disturbed at such an early hour I did a mad dash to the kitchen tripping over miscellaneous toys along the way. The message was from Papa Bear telling me that the school bus was cancelled...something I could have waited until the alarm clock went off in 45 minutes to find out...

The bus was cancelled due to fog. Fog? I looked out the window and across the fields and beyond. Fog? Not in my world but OK. The bus being cancelled is not the end of the world it just means some juggling of our morning routine and I am definitely going to be late for work (not that big a deal to me at all).

I tried to fall back to sleep but since that didn't seem to be happening I decided to boot up the computer instead. I subscribe to the bus information site and it is supposed to send me emails to let me know when the bus is cancelled or delayed. This morning I got 3 different emails. 1 to say the buses were running. Then, 1 to say that they were cancelled and then 1 to say that they were cancelled for elementary schools and delayed for 2 hours for secondary schools which leads me to believe that the people that are in charge of my sons transportation to school are morons. Not only do they see invisible fog but THEY don't even seem to know if the bus is running or not.

Of course the boys were in Monday mode too and none of them wanted to get up this morning and 2 out of 3 decided that the first thing they needed to do this morning was crap their pants (just to clarify that would be the unpotty-trainable 3 year old and my 1.5 year old - not my 6 year old). When they were all cleaned up and dressed they proceeded to fight and bicker for the next while as I tried to get backpacks ready and locate missing boots and mittens.

Finally Wee One was picked up by my father in law and Little Bear, Fuzzy and I were headed to the school which just happens to be almost 20 minutes in the opposite direction of the daycare and the Donut Shack. Little Bear dropped at school, Fuzzy to daycare and my breakfast of Nutrigrain bars and Crystal Light consumed I arrived at the Donut Shack. I arrived to find I was working with 1 of my least favourite people today. Oh well whatever, I'll survive.

I spent the day working a less than desirable job that made the clock stop moving. All day I looked at the stupid thing that seemed to be laughing at me from way up there on the wall above us all tick, tick, ticking away without ever getting any farther ahead. It seems I was not the only one with a case of the Mondays since customers seemed to be in fine form today also. My day was full conversations similar to the following:
"Welcome to the Donut Shack can I take your order?"
"Give me a green tea with milk"
"What size would you like?"
"Green tea with milk"
"What size would you like?"
"Ggggreeeeennn teeeeeeaaa with millllllk" (you know because they think I am the moron in this situation...)
"So large?"
Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It wasn't the worst Monday to date but it definitely wasn't great. Just blah. Again I find myself thankful Mondays only come around once a week.

Bejeweled

Freaking Bejeweled. If you don't know what Bejeweled is it is a highly addictive puzzle game most often played online. By highly addictive I mean will take over all your extra seconds of your existence. I hate this silly game. By hate I mean I love it oh so very much, so much that if it were a man I would offer to marry it and have it's babies.

Every night I sit down at my trusty laptop and plan to entertain you with a humorous and witty post but usually decide to just play 1 or 2...or 3..or 4...or 5 games of Bejeweled and before I know it I have lost hours. The game is only 1 minute long and I lose hours!

As if the addiction wasn't bad enough I play on Facebook so it gives you a list up the side of all my friends' scores. If one of my friends has a higher score I can't stop until I have beaten their score and again rein at the top of the leader board. Bejeweled on Facebook also erases the scores every Tuesday afternoon and the competition starts again so regardless of how amazingly high my score is it only secures my top position (not that top position) for a week at the most.

Someone else I know that suffered from a Bejeweled addiction once said to me that when she looks at peoples' faces she wants to move their nose up between their eyes to complete a line. I get it KL,I get it! I Bejewel in the morning, I Bejewel in the afternoon, I Bejewel in the evening and underneath the moon.

Right now I am Bejeweling between paragraphs. What is wrong with me (just a note there is not enough room in the comment section for any of you to actually try to answer that question so please don't bother). I'm sure all my online friends think that I have super slow Internet because I don't answer their instant messages right away when in reality I am Bejeweling between messages and there is no way I'm going to answer them before the full minute of the game is up.

I need help (for lots of things but in this case I am only expressing my need for help with my Bejeweled addiction). At this point my Bejeweled play time out weighs my blogging time and is slowing down my recent cleaning, sorting, purging spree. It is my crack. My name is SlightlyInsaneStacey and I am Bejeweled.

Bitten By A Dust Bunny?

I must be ill. Perhaps I have been bitten by a dust bunny. They run rampant here and can be quite vicious. That is the only explanation for what has been going on at my house for the last 96 hours or so. I, SlightlyInsaneStacey have been doing lots and lots and lots of housework.

You may be thinking, big freaking deal but if you know me or have been reading my blog for any amount of time you know that housework is my enemy. I hate it. I would rather walk on hot coals than scrub a floor or dust a ceiling fan. Don't get me wrong, I would love to have a clean house and might actually have one if I had decided to remain single and childless.

My house would be spotless if Papa Bear helped out with the cleaning more and...the kids moved out.

Little Bear should not have had 1.5 loads of his own dirty clothes the other day when I decided it was time to once again for Climbing Mt. Laundry and Papa Bear had not had 2. I think I did almost 10 loads of laundry including bedding and towels. Far too many in my opinion.

I cleaned my bedroom yesterday. It seems to teenagerish to say that but I did. There are no longer any toys left in my bedroom. It is officially back to being and adult room. It seems so much bigger without the unfolded baskets of clean clothes and the over flowing hampers of dirty ones.

In the last few days I (finally) accepted that I have far too many clothes for my 3 little bears and that I had to let some go. I want to keep it all. Between the 3 boys I have collected enough clothes to clothe 30 little boys. I did a huge (well huge for me) purge of all the baby clothes that I decided I didn't need to keep for the next baby (yes, next baby - I am nuts) and settled with one large tote of everything from birth-24 months. I also went through the totes I had already packed of clothes that are between the sizes my boys are wearing and downsized them too. All in all I got rid of the equivalent of about 3 garbage bags of clothes. A success in my book.

Today I tackled scrubbing floors. Not an easy task when there are 3 sets of feet running all over then or little hands stealing clothes. I managed to get done my bedroom floor, the front entrance way (that no one ever enters through) and the kitchen (the worst of all the floors in our entire house to keep clean). 2.5 out of 10 rooms isn't bad...right? I guess that will be my goal to complete before I run out of this burst of Martha Stewartness.

It should be interesting to see how all my hard work will look when I get home from a full day of work after Papa Bear is here with the 3 boys all day. I told him he should take them for a very, very long drive so they are out all day and don't have a chance to mess the house up.

This Little Piggy Freaks Me Out

Feet are probably the cutest part of a baby's body...and the grossest of an adults. How is that possible? With age grows creepiness when it comes to feet I guess.

Feet gross me out. I have a hard enough time trimming my own toenails that it makes it even more difficult to trim the toenails of the 3 little bears. Wee One's are not too bad. His feet are still pudgy and cute and kissable. Fuzzy's are still not terrible. The problem with him is trying to get him to sit still long enough to clip all 10.

Little Bear on the other hand is a bit of a challenge. He's not a baby. He's a smelly little boy. The last time I had to prepared myself mentally for the job ahead. I was only touching fresh from the bath feet so when he got out of the tub I got ready just to find that his nails where nice and trim already? "I cut them myself" he told me.
"You used the nail clippers by yourself?" I asked, trying to picture him in all his awkward, lack of coordination with a pair of nail clippers.
"No, I used my teeth" was his response.
Eww. Just freaking eww. Pardon me while I choke down the vomit rising up my throat.

Adult feet are just gross. I can't even think of any other word to describe them. They almost always have hair on them and the toes are big and creepy. Then there are the people that make me a little bit afraid of feet. I'm talking about the people that think it is attractive to grow their toenails out nice and long. Not attractive. Not attractive at all. Who are you Toe-verine? A Saber Toed Tiger? Frightening.

My feet are not exempt from the grossness. In fact I have horrible ugly feet. They are long and skinny. My second toe is longer than the rest. I have a bunion on my right foot and spurs on my heels from years of figure skating. They are terrible and why I pass up a lot of very adorable open toed shoes. Another reason why I would trade sandal wearing summer for fabulous foot hiding boot weather of winter in a heart beat.

To think some people actually have foot fetishes. Nasty. I think feet should be kept covered up. Socks, slippers, shoes, or boots I don't care but cover those things up.

Finders Keepers

I lose things. I lose things a lot. Clothing (not usually the in the "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off" kind of way), important papers, receipts that I'm supposed to keep, those little cards they give you at the doctors or dentist office to remind you of the date and time of your next appointment, all kinds of things.

On Friday I lost my keys...all of them. The key to the Magic Pumpkin, the 2ND key to Papa Bear's truck, my house key, all of them. I had them when I got home from taking Wee One to the doctor's office but then couldn't find them later when it was time to take Little Bear and Fuzzy to X's. I didn't really have time to worry about it Friday night. I looked in a few places but didn't really put a lot of effort into the hunt. Papa Bear has the 2ND key to the Magic Pumpkin so it was OK. I was just going to look for them later.

Saturday morning Papa Bear and I searched for the lost keys. I still don't know how I managed to lose a key ring containing 2 very large vehicle keys (Dodge, really? I don't think this would have happened if I could fit my keys in my jean pocket), a tiny swiss army knife, and a couple of big key chains all hooked onto a lanyard (you know those long strings similar to what "latch key kids" wore around their neck in Elementary school) but I did.

We searched the snowy yard around the van (which my Father in law was nice enough to plow - making the search that more interesting). The Saturday search still did not result in the keys being found but it did result in Papa Bear leaving the side door to the van open and causing me a stressful Sunday morning when it was time to leave for work shortly after 7 a.m. with a vehicle that didn't want to start...

Papa Bear continued to look for the lost keys while I worked and when Little Bear and Fuzzy got home from X's he interrogated them. We were still coming up empty and I had submitted to the fact that the keys were indeed gone. Luckily for me I had purchased the key replacement package on the Magic Pumpkin and just needed to call the dealership for a new $250 key but I would have to pay for Papa Bear's replacement. I planned to call the dealership when I got home from work today.

However, when I got home from work, there on the key hook where I normally keep my keys was the familiar string and bundle of keys. Yay! Papa Bear found my keys....in the dog's house?! That little thief had taken them for her own. What the heck did she plan to do with them? Take the van for a cruise? Have a tailgate party with all her doggy friends with Papa Bear's truck? Throw a party while we were out? Do her laundry? Really? What would possess her to drag them to the other side of the yard and hide them? Did she think we were going to let her keep them? Thank goodness she didn't decide just to floss with them.

I guess I know where to look for things first from now on. I wonder if she has anything else stashed in there? Maybe that's where the mismatched sock mates go. Or Wee Ones missing shoe? The dozens of mittens we have already lost this winter? This is not finders keeper Roxy, keep your doggy paws off my stuff!

Calling All Tooth Fairies

Calling all Tooth Fairies! Can we get together please to discuss our costs? Could we please come to some sort of agreement of what is fair price for teeth? Can there please be some consistency across the board?

When Little Bear lost his first tooth, the Tooth Fairy was completely stumped. How much money am I supposed to leave for a single tooth? There doesn't seem to be any standard for which to follow. Certainly teeth are subject to inflation like anything else right? I'm sure I'm supposed to leave more than the quarter I used to get. The most I ever received for one of my pearly whites was 1 dollar and I think that was the very last one to leave my mouth.

I asked some friends who's responses varied from a dollar a tooth to 5 dollars a tooth. 5 dollars a tooth?! Oh, how many more Bottle Cap candies and Wacky Taffy I could have bought if the Tooth Fairy had left me 5 dollars for each of my teeth. I could have consumed so much more sugar, which in return would have sped up her business. I'm thinking my Tooth Fairy was not very business savvy.

There was no way I was leaving 5 freaking dollars for Little Bear every time he lost a tooth. How many teeth do they have in there anyway? Probably like a trip to the grocery store worth at 5 mutha lovin' dollars a piece. Finally I decided that the Tooth Fairy should leave Little Bear 5 dollars for his FIRST tooth and a nice little note explaining that he was receiving a little extra only because it was his first tooth and any subsequent teeth would bring in only 1 dollar each.

I thought that was fair and Little Bear seemed happy with the agreement... That was until he came home from school one day and tells me that Little Miss Sally Stir-the-shit told him that the Tooth Fairy leaves 5 dollars for every one of her teeth. S#@* Sally, what the hell?!

How can I explain to Little Bear that his teeth are worth less than Sally's because his Tooth Fairy's only other income is a part time, minimum wage paying coffee pouring gig?

So, it is at this time that I really would like to call a meeting for all us Tooth Fairies to get together for a Tooth Fairy conference of sort and make guidelines so that some other up and coming Fairies don't have to deal with a Sally Stir-the-shit?

Bedtime Battleground

If you follow my blog you have already read about my bedtime woes with Fuzzy. Little Bear and Wee One have rarely been a problem at bedtime - until now... Our house turns into a battle ground at bedtime and I'm on the losing side.

Wee One used to go to bed not too badly all snuggled into his crib where he would stay. He would wake a couple of times at night during the course of a week. Usually a hug and a kiss and back in the crib and he was good. That all changed when he learned he could escape his crib. Once he discovered his new found freedom there was no keeping him in bed so when I bought Fuzzy a new regular sized twin bed we took the crib down and Wee One inherited the blue toddler sized race car bed. I swear that bed is cursed.

Since moving to his new bed Wee One has been a challenge at bedtime. The only way we can even keep him in his bedroom is to put a baby gate up at the doorway. He's fine with that except that he repeatedly throws his bestest buddy without whom he does not sleep, Froggy, over the gate and then wants him retrieved. This game goes on and on until he decides he's had enough and finally takes Froggy to bed. You can almost guarantee that is not the last you will hear from Wee One. We will be spending some more time together during the course of the night when the only way he will go back to sleep is if one of us lays with him (in the toddler sized race car bed). I have to say it is quite a sight to see Papa Bear in there with his arms and legs hanging over the edges in every direction.

Little Bear has always been a saint when it comes to bedtime. The best sleeper of the bunch. You could put him to bed at 7:30 and he would be asleep by 7:35 and sleep through until he had to be waken for school in the morning. Little Bear also has a new bed. We said goodbye to our space hogging bunk beds with built in dresser and desk and replaced it with a very handsome double sized sleigh bed. I don't know if it was too much effort to get in and out of bed when he was sleeping on the top bunk or what but now that he is closer to the ground he is in and out a dozen times. The nice thing is once he finally stays put and goes to sleep he is there for the night and you won't hear a peep from him until morning.

Fuzzy, oh Fuzzy. Fuzzy was doing really well since getting his new bed. He definitely stays in the new bed better but not with his eyes closed. Last night he was bright eyed and bushy tailed from 2:00am until (at least) 4:30 when I brought him to bed with me. I apparently passed out before him because this morning when I said "Oh, Fuzzy, Mommy is so tired. I need some sleep"
he said "you did sleep, I touched you".
"You poked me while I was sleeping?"
"Yep and you go *closes eyes and makes snoring sound*".
He didn't get up for daycare very easily this morning mind you. The daycare said he napped really well today...yeah I bet he did...

Seriously between Wee One refusing to go to sleep, Fuzzy's early morning rising and a very busy day at the Donut Shack I am one beat mama. I am seriously thinking about getting that little blue toddler race car bed the heck out of here and praying that things get better soon.