Messy

Tonight we are sitting at the table and the kids are doing their homework when KU starts acting up because he is frustrated. It is the usual frustration that he feels when doing math...it might as well be Greek to him. First he starts making faces, then it escalates to an angry voice, the tears start to flow and then he starts kicking that table. KA looks up from his homework and says "Don't go messing with Mom. I did that once and it wasn't pretty!"

KU Quip

KU: I wish my sister had a mute button!

This weekend I told the boys that we needed to send Uncle Mark an email. Uncle Mark is currently serving as a Chaplain  over in Afghanistan. I always think it is interesting how while both boys have autism their take on things is so different from one another; proving once again that Autism comes in different shapes and forms. KA is 9 yo and KU is 8 yo.

Dear Uncle Mark from KU:

Hope you are having a good time. Is it hot or is it cold? Have you had any battles yet? It's me, KU.

Dear Uncle Mark from KA:

War is hell.

Me: KA, first of all I think that we should not say war is hell.

KA: Why not?

Me: Well, for one Uncle Mark is over there and it seems like it probably isn't the best thing to say. And number two, Uncle Mark is a minister and he probably doesn't like you using the word Hell.

KA: Why not?

Me: It's just an hunch. So can you think of something else to say?

KA: Okay, how about war is something very cruel and bloody. So if you feel like you have to throw up, you are probably not the only one. Actually, I would throw up if I saw war. But even if you are in a war you have your rights.Don't forget that. Love KA.

Yep, different boys, different takes on life. 

Two Minutes And Counting Until The Bus Arrives

I absolutely HATE school mornings. They go something like this.

Where is your homework folder...I don't know...How could you not know? You put it in your backpack last night...but I looked at it this morning...where did you look at it....I dunno.  Okay, where is your lunchbox...I dunno...Did you get it off of the kitchen counter like I told you to do?... What kitchen counter?... The one in the castle out in back. Ask the cook for it....But you are the cook...Yes, I am and obviously the keeper of the lunchbox. No, my teacher keeps it so I don't lose it. Okay, well tell your teacher to come over here so we know where your lunchbox is... Mom, I need you to sign this. I need a cake for school... Today? You need a cake today...I think so...Give me that note!... KU....where are your shoes? ....I dunno...KU the bus is going to be here in two minutes. You need to get your shoes on. Where are they?Are you kidding me? I told you 30 minutes ago to put on your shoes and now you are asking me where they are now?.... KA, go upstairs and brush your hair...I did last night...well it's morning now so do it now...but you don't shave your legs in the night and then in the morning...but I should, so go upstairs and brush your hair. And your teeth....Why?.... On God help me keep what little sanity I have left!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh yeah, and this picture shows exactly how I feel in the morning except it would be my body under that bus!!!!

Homework Globlins

I recently heard that we have a budget crisis in our educational system. Districts are selling their souls to fast food conglomerates in order to save money now at the expense of our kids health in the future. But have no fear, Cheryl's here. As it turned out I stumbled upon this idea early this morning while trying to deliver the kids to the bus on time and in one piece (hard labor is an easier task) without me pulling all my hair out or diving under the tires of fast moving mini van for a momentary reprieve. And if the truth be known,  I really must confess that hate this part of the school year. There are no holidays to give you a break from the homework demons and winter solstice seems a million miles away. Yes, at this point in the school year the only thing a parent can look forward to is catching the flu to get out of being on homework duty.

I have also noticed by this time of the year the novelty of school has worn off for all involved. Involuntary twitching can be seen in teachers everywhere, parents recite times tables in their sleep while Jr. can't remember that any number times zero is ZERO, and our children's homework papers are crammed into their backpacks intertwined with last week's school notices that never made it home. The Return To School and the Keep At School sections of the homework notebook have become a mishmash of writing that is barely legible but could definitely qualify for an A in Swahili. In addition, the right corner of my son's backpack holds last weeks peanut butter and jelly sandwich which lays limply; growing mold for some science project that is due in 2012. But even worse than all that is that around this time of year it marks the return of The Homework Thief. You know him. He stars in the daily early-morning soap; The Case Of The Missing Homework. And he never fails to show up especially the morning after a night spent in Homework Hell. Count on it. Spend two hours working with your child on homework and the next morning it is impossible to locate. This despite your reiterating rule number # 632 "Put your homework in your backpack", which, you have undoubtedly said 632 times that evening. Sometime between midnight when you haul yourself into bed and the 6 am torture of packing lunches, ironing clothes, checking teeth making a hearty breakfast for your spawn; The Homework Thief sneaks into the house and steals your child's homework so you can look like the negligent parent who parks his ass in front of the TV all night and tells his kid to tell the teacher "the dog ate it."And it never fails that during parent teacher conference you see the teachers whispering as you pass by now and forever to be labeled Loser Mom of the Universe (LMU).

But today I had enough. Tired of being pegged as a SPAM (slacker posing as mom) or a LMU I decided to fight back and protect what shred of dignity I had left after my son's rendition of the now infamous What We Did On Summer Vacation report. Head held high I sent my son's teacher an email this morning. It read:

 Dear Mr. F: Last night KA did his homework (with me suffering right along with him for two hours!) and this morning it is gone. Instead of putting his folder in his backpack when completed as he was instructed to do;once again The Homework Thief has broken into our house and removed his work. UGH. I guess you will have to duct tape KA to the wall as an example to all the other students!

Hmmmm, SPAM mom, I think not. From now on I think I wish to be known as a DIMWIM type of mom (don't intentionally mess with ME). If only more parents took this approach instead of the "don't punish my child just because he is irresistible and irresponsible"the world would be a better place and schools would become safer. Therefore, in keeping with the tradition of innovative school practices I propose this.... duct tape. Better than a hall monitor or an assistant principal whose sole duty is to impose educational justice on slacker kids; at just $2.99 it is a school district's dream come true. 101 uses for duct tape, I think not. Why limit yourself when 102 will do.

Laundry Days

I don't know about you but I HATE doing the never-ending chore of laundry. And I have no problem sharing those beliefs with others. Everyone who knows me knows I hate doing laundry. In fact, I have my own theory regarding laundry...it is definitely tied in with Karma or at the very least Heaven and Hell. In the first case I am convinced the more "bad" you did in your past life the more laundry you do in this life.  If this is indeed the case I must have been personally responsible for spreading the black plague throughout Europe. If on the other hand you are a Heaven and Hell believer I hate to inform you but if you do not repent it is likely you will be washing angel wings and polishing tarnished halos for all eternity. And did I mention that there are no washing machines in heaven? Best as I can figure laundry is done the old fashioned way with rocks and a cold stream. I think that in my case, God is giving me practice for where I may very well end up. He is giving me the opportunity to "try it on for size"before I have permanently wrinkled dried up "dish pan" hands. And I have to admit it does make me pause and reconsider some of my actions. Give me fire and brimstone over laundry any day.

And speaking of Karma, I do believe it came around today and bit me in the derriere. This in retaliation  for all the bad mouthing of laundry I have done over the years. This vague feeling of uncomfortableness began just after I stepped out of the shower. As the morning wore on I found myself the victim of a strange and elusive butt itch. It wasn't until much later that I finally realized that the burrs and prickers from the Boy Scout camp out laundry had attached itself to my underwear. As a result, certain parts of my anatomy look as if the devil tried to grab me and drag me down to the laundry hell that awaits me downstairs.

Pack Rat Fever

 Says my wise husband to my children who are in trouble. "Knowledge costs something but a parents wisdom is free."

This is in reference to the fact that after telling my children 1,386, 798, 452 times NOT to move the glass lizard tank they did. This time they decided to drop it on the Wii Fit platform shattering it into a million pieces. Needless to say we had a huge talk about whether we should keep the lizards as they now had no home and the boys had no money to buy a new one. Finally, Dave told them that he would buy some of their possessions from them so they could earn money for a tank. Well KU brought down his most precious possessions. A picture of him, his artwork, his Statue of Liberty, favorite books, etc. Everything that was near and dear to his heart. KA on the other hand brought down a gum WRAPPER...not even the gum to go with it. After about 5 times upstairs "looking" for things to sell to dad and finding "NOTHING" he could bear to part with; Dad told him to bring down his compendium of THomas The Tank Engine. Well KA fought this all the way. When that didn't work he then tried to control the outcome to his satisfaction.

"Okay, you can have the book," he tells Dave "Provided that I can read it whenever I want."

"No dice, Buddy, It's all or nothing. If it is nothing we let the lizards go."

After much grumbling the book becomes Dave's.

Later that evening we find the book being used as a pillow.

Sometimes giving up is harder than giving in. And sometimes giving in is exhausting.

Pour Thing

Why is it that my children are bent on destruction? Where does this gene come from? Is there a way to turn it off? Why aren't all the research dollars going to solve this problem? Why does it seem to be MY kids who are always pulling these stunts?

It's a DARN good thing everyone is asleep or mom would be on the warpath. Which son of mine decided it would be a good idea to pour all the sand and stones from the rock polisher down the sink?????????????

Older Than Dirt

There are days that I can convince myself that I look pretty good for my age. Then one of my kids opens their mouth and says something like:


KU: Mom was George Washington born before you??????????????????? 
Me: Naw, I grew up with Martha. In fact, those rascals only knew each other three weeks when they married at Martha's estate in Virginia. I was the bridesmaid.

On Being Called GRANDMA When With Your Young Children

Recently, one of the women that I am on a BB with talked about how strangers were referring to her as Grandma if she was out with her kids. Undoubtedly, that is not the kind of comment that makes you go out and take on the day. At 49, I have had that happen to me several times. So in that vein, if I did all the things it would take to make me look younger I would:


 1.Lose more weight (and I just read a study that said skinny people are perceived as older because fatter people's skin stretches and you can't see the lines) So I am carefully looking at my options here and an ice cream sundae that is calling out too me  
2. I would lose the van and get a 2 seater sports car (that isn't going to happen anytime soon) 
3. have my own personal crane to hoist certain sagging body parts up but that is out of the question because I can't afford the teamsters operators fees for the crane operator.
 4. elect to have surgery, surgery, surgery...unfortunately it is all considered elective no matter how many times I have argued with my insurance if you are going to pay for viagra then it is only fair that you pay for a tummy tuck, butt tuck and anything else the doc is willing to tuck. And really, if all us "grandma's" looked that good the Viagra market would tank. Obviously, the BIG PHARMA would NEVER allow that to happen
 5. I would hire a couple of old men to walk around and call me "Mom" and everyone will think I look fabulous but I really don't like all the paperwork that would entail unless I could pay them under the table so as to not endanger their social secutirty
 6. Pay my kids to call me "sis" while we are out in public but unfortunately I think they would refuse citing the creepiness clause. 
7. Divorce my husband and marry Castro so the next time someone said that to me I could yell "Off with their head!" It would certainly make those idiots who say things like that think twice! 
8. Yell out "these are my grandchildren? Last time I saw them they had blond hair and blue eyes. What did you do with my other grandchildren? Police! Police!"

So instead of going to all the time and effort of the above I have elected to:

1. Get a shot of botox right between the eyebrows since that large crevice makes me look angry all the time. I don't do the eyes or anything else just that horrid spot that makes me look tired and mean 
 2. I am considering telling everyone that I am a 65 yo Grandma and then instead of them thinking I look old their perception of me will change immediately and they will tell me how great I look for my age. I am also thinking about carrying around a very expensive jar of face cream that I will sell to them for $300 so they can look as good as I do at (cough, cough) 65. 

Okay, I am done. See your sense of humor also gets worse when you get to be my age! So does the dementia!