Stop the Ant-Sanity!!
I think the only things more affected by this remodel than me are the damn ants that called the ground around my house home.
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Ever since we started the remodel (end of March) we’ve had off and on trouble with the ants. It seems each time we dug somewhere new or moved something around, the ants attacked. They were in the bedrooms, they were in the kitchen and now I can’t seem to get them to stay out of the bathroom.
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The Husband originally kept telling me they were after the water. He’s crazy they will go after anything. Despite sealed Ziploc-knock-off bags they have attacked chocolate chip muffins, bagels, toothpaste, a gumpaste rose that my fabulous niece made for me and TWO super cute fondant bugs my mom made for me. Now their latest conquests include kids’ medicine, cough syrup, and even some nasty-tasting Chloraseptic throat spray. Are you kidding me? It’s just plan gross.
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I have ant traps all over the house and keep a huge bottle of Raid in the bathroom.
I took this after I threw the bag in disgust into the sink. Most of the dead ants are on the bottom of the bag. UGH!
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Everything is in sealed plastic bags and somehow the ants still are getting in. {Just an aside, I had to put them in sealed plastic bags because the ants took over my medicine cabinet and the kids’ toothbrushes and toothpaste once before} I can’t afford to keep buying new toothbrushes and toothpaste. And heaven forbid one of the kids gets sick. I just had to throw out my entire stash of kids medicine – ibuprofin, Tylenol, Pedia-sure cough & cold, kids’ allergy stuff – it’s all gone. Damn ants!
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I will say there are two “benefits” of the daily ant attacks… the Little One is no longer deathly afraid of the ants. She now squashes them with her finger and then proudly brings them to me. And the Big One has finally learned why we don’t take food into our rooms. She took an unopened lollipop in her room and within two hours her bookshelf where the lollipop was laying was covered in ants marching 100 by 100! Thank God she didn’t put the thing in her bed.
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If you have any other ant solutions, please share them!!
The Lord’s Prayer – Daddy’s Dream
Yes, I know it’s been forever since I’ve entertained you with my fabulous stories. What can I say, life gets in the way. Between the remodel project, my dad’s heart attack and the day-to-day stuff, writing has been on the back burner. But have no fear, here is a good one for ya!
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In an attempt to avoid bedtime fights and meltdowns, we have a calendar and take turns each day on who gets to pick what story we read and which prayer we say. Tonight was the Big One’s day. She picked the Lord’s Prayer for the bedtime prayer tonight.
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I started the prayer, like I usually do. But tonight, the Big One stopped me and said she wanted to start it, so we started again, with her leading us.
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It went like this:
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“Our Father who art in Heaven
Hallowed be Your name
Daddy’s kingdom come
Daddy’s will be done
On earth as it is in Heaven…”
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At this point I couldn’t stop giggling so I have no idea what she said next. I would like to think she got the rest of it correct, but can’t be certain what other creative interpretations she may have come up with.
A Slowpoke!
My girls are polar opposites, I’ve said it before and I will say it again. Yesterday the girls wanted to ride their bikes around the block. They are going through bicycling withdrawals since we started the remodel project and their cement patio riding ground in the backyard is gone.
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Normally the Husband takes them and I enjoy 15 minutes or so of quiet in the house, but yesterday they wanted me to come too. So we set off, the girls on their bikes, the Husband and I on foot. Immediately I knew we were going to have issues. The Little One zoomed off at lightning speed (well three-year old lightning speed). The Husband who was trying to talk to me about the day had to take of running after her.
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Meanwhile the Big One was content to just kind of cruise along. Really she let the slope of the sidewalk move her bike more so than using any real muscle power. Honestly that was fine with me. I don’t run anywhere, so I was able to keep up with her while walking at a good clip.
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Before long the Husband and Little One were out of site. This gave the Big One ample time to throw the Husband under the bus, proclaiming that “Daddy always leaves me to chase after {the Little One}.”
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So as the Big One and I continued to chat during our two laps around the block, we stopped after we got back home the second time. We hadn’t seen the Husband or Little One in quite a while, so we figured we’d just wait until they caught up to us. After a few minutes of waiting, the Big One wanted to go look for them. So we headed in the backwards loop direction to meet them. As we came around the bend on our street, we see smoke coming from the Little One {and the HusbandJ} as they came flying down the street at us.
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The Big One turned her bike around pretty quickly and started pedaling faster than she had all day. I think she feared for her life. And I heard the Husband say, “Don’t call me a slowpoke!” as he turned on his afterburners and raced for victory. The Little One and Husband blew by me as I prayed she would be able to stop before she slammed into our neighbor’s car that was partially blocking the sidewalk. All I can say about that is thank God she was wearing a hoodie and the Husband was able to {sort of} keep up with her, at least close enough to use the hoodie as a parachute of sorts!
The Chicken Patty Meltdown
Oh man, y’all lunch time at school is killin’ me. I have never actually experienced lunch at the Big One’s school but I have heard from other parents and teachers that it’s a bit chaotic. There are kids everywhere, lots of noise and just utter craziness. For my child who is really sensitive to chaos and noise, it’s a nightmare for her.
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We’ve had several days where she has cried at the mere thought of going to school and enduring the lunchtime madness. It’s especially hard after a vacation or long weekend. She has been getting better though and last week even bought lunch one day. Her teacher (who I love, love, love) actually walked through the lunch line with the Big One to help her feel more at ease. She ate her chicken nuggets and way beyond thrilled when she got home to tell me all about it.
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Yesterday was Tuesday and according to the schedule one of the lunch options on Tuesdays is chicken patty sandwiches. Armed with her newfound lunchtime confidence, the Big One announced that she wanted to buy lunch. I was thrilled. How many Go-Gurts can a kid really eat in a lifetime?
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I had no idea that because of the Monday holiday, the lunch menu changes. UGH! Are you freaking kidding me? I still don’t understand how it works. One teacher told me everything is pushed back a day, so Monday’s scheduled meals are served on Tuesday, Tuesday’s meals are available on Wednesday, etc. But then another told me, that no it’s just Tuesday that is off.
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Regardless of how it works, my child went into total meltdown mode when she was told there were no chicken patty sandwiches. Now y’all know she is a picky eater, so when the options were a three-bean chili tostada, teriyaki beef dippers with rice, chicken and cheese quesadilla or the salad bar; the kid was plum out of luck.
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Again, thank God for her teacher (really, bless this woman!), the Big One ate pretzels for lunch. I don’t know though if I will ever be able to convince her to buy lunch again. Today she opted for cold pancakes in her lunch box. Now my mission is to find some kind of insulated thing that will keep some chicken or pizza warm until lunch time.
The Things Moms Do
So this morning as I was eating a “burned” pancake I started thinking about the strange things I do as a mom. By “burned” I mean a darker brown, not really burned to be inedible but with some color on it! You know, just enough that the Big One especially would turn her nose up and say, “YUCKY!”
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Instead of dealing with the whining about the brown parts, I just ate them and my girls never even knew I burned ‘em. (In defense of my cooking, the only reason it was semi-burned was because the Big One would not get out of bed. I poured the batter on the griddle and went to rouse her for school. Silly me, assumed that the fabulous aroma of chocolate chip pancakes would be enough to get sleeping beauty out of bed. Not so much today. So after some prodding, tickling and turning the light on, she finally got up. Lord help me when she is a teenager! So technically she should have been the one to eat them!)
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Anyway, it got me thinking about something else that happened recently that was kind of an “aha” moment. It was Sunday at church. Someone gave the Little One some SweeTarts Valentine’s candy. She wanted one, so I told her she could have one, knowing full well that she doesn’t like them.
No sooner had she put it in her mouth, she pulled it out all slobbery and gross and said, “Here, I don’t wike it.” Normally I would instinctively put my hand out and accept whatever grossness she pulled out of her mouth. But this time I said, “No, you go put it in the trash.”
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My fab-friend Karen was there and it got us talking about the strange thing we do as moms; The highlight being trying to “catch” the puke when one of our kids gets sick. I’ve talked about this before, you can read it here. https://fixitmommy.com/2008/12/22/a-great-catch/
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We still didn’t come up with a definitive answer for why we accept gross things from our kids in our hands.
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Like Karen pointed out when I wrote about this before, it’s similar to the “mom arm” that magically extends at least 12 feet across your chest whenever the brakes are applied in a vehicle.
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I guess it’s just part of being a mom.
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What strange things do you instinctively do?
Out of the Mouth’s of Babes
The way I see it, taking my kids out in public is kind of like a crap shoot. You never know what they will say or do that will be embarrassing or offensive. This doesn’t stop us from going out, but it does scare me sometimes!
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So last night we went out to our favorite pizza place for dinner (Yes, I did marinate some steak for carne asada tacos. I forgot it was 2-fer Tuesday. So the Husband will have carne asada tacos for dinner tonight while the girls and I are at church.)
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We were sitting at our table enjoying the pizza goodness when the Big One starts pointing at a table diagonally across from us. We tell her for the 8th zillion time that it’s rude to point at people. (she has yet to learn the subtleties of talking about someone without them knowing you are doing it! Don’t judge me; you know you do it too!)
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So after she stops pointing, she announces, “That lady over there looks like the witch from the ‘pig story.’” I’m not sure what she is talking about, but the Husband and I simultaneously explain to her that we do not point and people, nor do we announce they look like a witch. If she sees a similarity that’s okay, but that’s the kind of thing she can tell us in the car on the way home.
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We tell her it’s hurtful to say someone looks like a witch, cartoon, monster, etc. Now, if she thinks someone looks like a princess, it’s okay to point it out. It’s a very difficult thing for her to distinguish what is “mean” and what is not.
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After all at the park earlier, some boys said, “Look at that little girl she JUMPED on the swing.” to which the Big One went into a crying tailspin, because she did not “jump” onto the swing. I still don’t know what so bad about what they said, but it bothered the Big One.
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So anyway, the Husband and I hush the Big One. Now the Big One is feeling guilty for saying something mean and hurtful. And announces, very loudly, “OH NO! I hope she didn’t hear me.” Clearly the child is not understanding the whole concept here.
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I am fairly certain that neither the woman, nor her companions heard the Big One, as they were communicating in sign language and the woman in question clearly was hearing impaired, however that didn’t stop that moment of panic when my heart stopped as I heard what was coming from my child’s mouth this time.
My Dishwasher Drew Blood
I know I usually write about dumb things my kids do, but sometimes I do dumb things too! (shocking I know!!)
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We live in an old house and by old I mean built in 1954. Most things in the house are original, sans half of the windows that we replaced right before Christmas. We only did half of the windows because we are planning a remodel, if the damn contractors would get back to us with some bids we could get things rolling. The loan funded back in October, that’s how long I have been waiting to get started!!
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So anyway there are a few screws missing … in my dishwasher. Don’t be trying to read ahead and think that I have a few screws missing, y’all. That’s just not nice
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If you have both shelves on the dishwasher pulled out, they had better be empty or else the whole thing will fall out of its cabinet and land on your toe. Yes, it hurts like hell when this happens. (again no I don’t have the screws loose, my dishwasher does!)
Normally I run the dishwasher almost every day. However, I have been sick for way too long and keep forgetting to start it. It’s been three days. Don’t’ ask me how I am still getting dishes shoved in there, I don’t know! I am starting to think it’s a magic clown car!!
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So it’s really full and I was trying to shove some more dirty stuff in there before I started it today. In a moment of brilliance, I left the bottom shelf extended and pulled the top shelf out to put more crap in. As soon as I did it, I knew I was in trouble. The whole thing came flying out of its spot. I was quick enough to get my toes out of the way but not my arm. So as I muttered some lovely words, my arm begins dripping blood and I decide there are enough dishes in the dishwasher.
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I’m not even sure which part of the dishwasher is sharp enough to draw blood; I just know that I am not doing any more dishes today.
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Maybe next time I will tell you about where not to step in the bathroom… unless you want to fall through the floor!
Silly, Silly Mommy
Today is Wednesday. I don’t like Wednesdays. The Big One gets out of school at noon-ish and it messes up the whole day. So today, after waking up the Little One from a 10 a.m. to noon nap, (She obviously is not feeling well!) we were home from school and I was making lunch for the Little One.
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The Big One went to her room. I heard her banging things around in there and asked her if she was cleaning her room. After all, her room is a disaster zone and for the last week or so I have been making comments about how it needs to be cleaned up and God forbid there was ever a fire in our house, she probably wouldn’t be able to find her way out.
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Back to my question to her, she replied, no she was not cleaning her room, rather she was making lemonade. Now before you all go getting all ethereal about what that means, let me tell you the girls’ play kitchen is in the Big One’s room, so the banging around I heard was her dumping all of the plastic food on the floor, in her search for lemons.
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Clearly perplexed by my question, about five minutes later, the Big One emerged from her room and said ….
“Mommy, why would I be cleaning my room, nobody asked me to do it.”
Oh, the joys.
Good Cop, Bad Cop ~ Verified
The Husband and I often joke that I am the “bad cop” while he is the “good cop” in our household. I am the rule enforcer. I am the punisher. I am the one who makes them pick up their clothes, toys and dishes. The Husband walks them to the donut shop on Saturday mornings. The Husband will pack them up in the car and head to the beach at 4 p.m. (does he not think about traffic, dinner time and ultimately how it will impact the bed time routine!!)
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I often wonder if the kids are really attuned to this reality or not. Well, I need not wonder anymore.
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The Little One and I were at Wal-Mart shopping. She kept asking me, “Can we buy that?” over and over and over again.
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Each time I told her no we would not be buying whatever it was.
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After about the fifth time, she says, “But why not Mommy?”
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And then it all went south for me. The conversation went something like this:
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FixItMommy: “Well, we don’t need it and I guess I am just not very much fun.”
Little One: “Yeah, you aren’t very much fun, Momma.”
FixItMommy: Quietly mutters to myself
Little One: “Daddy is fun ALL the time. You are only fun sometimes.”
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So now you all and the handful of people in Wal-Mart who heard the conversation, know the real truth. The FixItMommy is only fun sometimes.
A Kindergarten Bully
Is it bad that I gave a 5-year-old the “stink eye” today? Truth be told, she might be 6 years old for all I know. She stands at least six inches taller than the Big One and I don’t like her. Yes, I said that I do not like one of my child’s kindergarten classmates.
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This new girl (we’ll call her “Mary”) started school after the Christmas break. She cried her first day when she left her mom and toddled off to class with the other kids. I felt a little sorry for her that morning. But by the next day, I was done with this little girl.
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I asked the Big One if she played with the new girl, to which the Big One said, “Mary said we had to touch her necklace two times if we want to be her friend. And I didn’t want to touch her necklace.”
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Fair enough I said. I told the Big One that she should never have to do something like that in order to gain someone’s friendship. We talked about being nice and fun and caring, but never telling our friends what to do. We went on to talk about peer pressure (in kindergarten terms) and I assured her that she didn’t need to be friends with the new girl if she didn’t want to.
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So a couple days later the Big One had Pirate’s Booty in her lunch. {for those of you who don’t know what Pirate’s Booty is, it is white cheddar cheese puffs} She loves Pirate’s Booty, but when she came home from school she told me she didn’t want to take it for lunch anymore. I asked her why not and she told me that Mary and some of the other girls were calling her, “cheese-eater, mousey cheese-eater” at lunch while she was eating the Pirate’s Booty.
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Now I knew it was Wednesday and most of the kids in the Big One’s class buy their lunch, so most of the kids were eating pizza for lunch. So I asked the Big One what Mary and the other girls were eating for lunch. She told me pizza and I asked her what was on pizza.
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Exasperated with me, the Big One said, “I know Mommy, I told them they were cheese-eaters too, but I still don’t like them calling me that.”
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I get it.
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So it’s a new week. The Big One came home from school early yesterday because she wasn’t feeling well. Today as we were hanging up her backpack and putting away her lunch, Mary came up to the Big One and said something. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I could tell from her attitude that it was something not nice. As she passed the Big One she gave me the biggest grin, so yes, I gave her the stink eye. I didn’t say anything to her because I didn’t hear what she said, but I was pretty certain it was something mean.
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As Mary walked away the Big One got real clingy and told me she didn’t like Mary. I told her it was okay to not like someone. I told her she didn’t have to be friends with her. But I did tell her that when Mary says something mean to her to be sure to stand up tall and tell her that she is being mean and you don’t like it.
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The Big One said she’s tried that but it’s hard because Mary is in her group and she always says mean things. How in the world does a five or six year old get to be so rotten at such a young age? I feel bad for giving her the stink eye, after all she is just in kindergarten, but if she is going to make school even harder for my child you can bet that I will be perfecting my stink eye and maybe even opening my big mouth soon to put that child in her place.
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