Parenting like a Heathen

rough-housingOn a trip with a few friends, the hubs and I met a new couple. They have 2 young boys. One is 3, the other 2.

Shes a stay at home mom, he’s a cop. Both have sooo many things to look forward to, things they have no idea are coming. (Because young parents never do) It was funny and a little endearing to watch.

I remember the young parent years. We totally thought we had a handle on everything. Never needed advice, thought we knew it all.

I use to hate when mothers (mine included) would feel the need to give me advice about raising kids…Nursing…cloth or disposable diapers…

I read all the books…watched all the videos….

I was the master of parenthood by the time I was 4 mo pregnant.

Then out of no where the darn kid wouldn’t sleep…

He would arch his back and scream at a few months old if you didn’t swing him as hard as you could in the baby swing.

Teething was a nightmare….

Then one day, I was on the floor crying about what a failure I was, while the now two-year old, was drawing pictures on the walls with a sharpie…Which was after he had drawn all over the cat with that same marker. Yep…things suddenly became real.

However, still to this day I never give out advice to parents that don’t ask for it. I kind of feel like parenting is a slap in the face, and you will only figure it out when you sink…there’s rarely a moment you actually swim.

The New Dad guy, wanted to know if we allowed the boys to rough house. If it was okay if they wrestled with each other…

O boy.

The look on new moms face was not happy about this question. See, not to veer off…but the hubs and I are not your typical churchy couple with a million kids like you see on TV. In fact, I am quite the opposite, which if you read my fanpage on facebook or even just read a few of my blog posts…you kind of have a feel for who I am.

I drink, have a ton of tattoos and by golly…I say fuck… A. lot.

Now don’t get me wrong. I am an educated woman. I have worked for the public, and can act like a lady when I feel the need. However, when I am not around people I work for, or the hubs grandmother… I act like myself. I like myself. And so do most people. Why hide who I am?

That being said, new mom had a different impression of me. So the cringe made sense to me. I mean, I suppose I look like the big mean off of Orange is The New Black… but sheesh. Get a grip woman, I am not the anti- christ!

I looked at him and with a voice of authority, told him I most definitely allow rough housing in our house. That all kids should be able to rough house.

She gasped.

I laughed.

Kids could get hurt!

I agreed, then explained that keeping them in a bubble will hurt them more.

They should learn to treat each other with compassion!

Just because you rough house, does not mean you have no compassion. Trust me…my boys are all very compassionate.

New Dad cheered with a big “I told you so”…and he may or may not have pounded his chest.

I tried to explain that kids need that kind of play. That it stimulates all parts of the brain. In fact I wrote a huge paper on the benefits in my sociology class a number of years ago. I even named a few doctors that have written studies on the benefits. However, she didn’t want to hear it. Which is fine. Those are her two boys, not mine. So I tried to change the subject to something less controversial for her.

It didn’t work. Which wasn’t surprising.

See, if theres one thing I totally get…It is having a strong opinion. The hubs and my close friends would love to tell you just how very strong and opinionated I am… However, sometimes… you have to take a look at the situation. Politics, religion, and views on how someone should parent… those could start wars. So lets not get too crazy with opinions. Especially with someone you do not know.

Throughout the weekend she would interrupt a conversation about something not so important to ask me things like… Do I spank?

Do my kids have mouths like a sailor because of my mouth? (That one made me giggle for a while)

What does my house look like?

See…the problem with my mouth is…well, I talk to them like I am writing my blog. I tend to take the humor of my life, and go with it. So it may or may not sound like I live in a frat house.

After our weekend, she either walked away thinking I was a heathen, or with the decision to NEVER have any more kids. Hell, maybe she thought both. Nonetheless, the new dad still doesn’t get his way. There will still be no rough housing allowed because someone may get hurt, and I think she has also decided to remove all ceiling fans in her home. (story for another day)

I get that is her decision… which is why I never argued with her. But folks…stop putting your kids in a bubble! Let them be kids. They will thank you for it! (and so will the husband you blew off.)


The Day I thought I was in Liver Failure…

thyroidI have hypothyroid disease. *gasp* Doesn’t sound like much right? I mean, what’s a thyroid anyway?

Hypothyroid disease is a crazy ass autoimmune disease that people who don’t have it, never understand. People hear an overweight person say they have hypothyroidism, and automatically assume they must be lazy and eat a lot. How could you not? Just look at how overweight they are. They couldn’t have become that way without over eating, right?

Over the years I have watched the frustration it has caused my husband. He may always say my weight doesn’t bother him… that he loves every bit of me… But how can he not have any regrets when he married a woman at 115 lbs and ended up with someone closer to 200?

Now don’t get me wrong, his frustration hasn’t been my weight, which I truly deep down past the ugly depressed teenage self that screams in my head… It’s my daily “I’m so tired” and the “I couldn’t move from my bed because I hurt all over…again.” that frustrates the shit out of him.

It’s not his fault. I would have got sick of me too… Because unless you live it, you never really understand what it feels like. How tired and depressed you are. You can only put on a pretty little face so often, without your cracks showing through. You spend a lot of time believing you are crazy.

Who in their right mind can sleep for 18 hours straight and feel like they haven’t slept in a month?

For a years, I had seen doctor after doctor. I had complained to anyone that would listen about how tired I was. Every morning when I would climb out of bed, my joints felt as if they were slowly breaking, while my brain felt like I was swimming in a pool of cold molasses.

Weight gain was by far, one of the most frustrating symptoms. Still is. It hadn’t mattered how little I ate, I would gain weight. I would hear things like, “eat less, exercise more”. (a classic line, even my husband has used) Because I of course, could only be gaining weight because I ate poorly right? It was the beginning of a nice little eating disorder.

Then my hair began to fall out. In clumps. My skin was dry, and all my limbs would swell. I would constantly forget the most simple of tasks. This made me beyond frustrated. Cleaning the house, and taking care of the kids was a nightmare. It caused huge fights between the husband and I because although I stayed home, I couldn’t muster the energy to do anything. My marriage was falling apart.

This wasnt me! I was not one of “those” people. I hated myself. The depression was sucking me in.

Doctors said it was all in my head.

I had 7 kids, so what the hell did I expect? Anyone with 7 kids would lose their hair and feel tired.

And I believed it. Feeling worse about myself. Why would such a terrible parent have 7 damn kids?

They said I had to be eating more than I claimed. That the food journal I was keeping was probably not being kept right. It hadn’t mattered that I documented every sip of water, to the piece of gum I chewed. They even went as far as putting me on antidepressants saying maybe I was just depressed. Guess what happens when you take antidepressants that you don’t need? You fall into an even darker hole.

So of course I ate even less.

Then one morning I was doubled over in pain, wishing someone would shoot me… putting me out of this misery. I had a small baby at that time. In fact 7 was only a couple of months old.

I had been prone to horrible bladder and kidney infections, so of course thats what I believed I had. My husband stayed home from work that day, and I drove the hour and a half to the doctor. (We lived in a very small town and always had to travel an hour and a half for medical care.)

When I got to the office, the doctor, (because of my history) had me pee in a cup, ran up some blood work, then sent me on my way with lots of pain meds and antibiotics. She claimed I was definitely suffering from a kidney infection. I couldn’t wait to get home and take the pain meds. I had wished the hubs and I had piled all the boys in the van and drove down with me just so I could dope up and sleep. But that just wasn’t the case.

The hour and a half felt like a week. My husband was outside in the front waiting for me. He had a strange look on his face.

“You need to turn around and go back to the doctor. In fact, they want you at the hospital.” he said.

I laughed at him. Why would I need to go back to the hospital?

“Call your doctor quickly, I will get the boys in the car.”

It was weird. I can’t explain it. He couldn’t even look at me and it was scaring me to death. When I called my doctor, the first thing she asked me was if I was on my way to the hospital yet?

She said that she had run a liver function test on me, and that I was in full-blown liver failure. She began firing questions at me left and right…

Have you ever been diagnosed with hepatitis?
Anyone ever have liver problems in my family?
Are you HIV positive?
Do you drink a lot of alcohol?
Do you use prescription drugs?

It was all so unreal… and absolutely terrifying.

So we made that hour and a half drive again. They tested me for everything she could think of. Finally I went in for an MRI, spent forever in the claustrophobic tube. All anyone could talk about was how jaundice I was. The husband kept saying I looked like something out of a creepy old movie with they way my eyes had glowed. No one would look me in the eyes.
For hours they ran blood panels and waited for the MRI results.

It has been 9 years since that night, and still to this day they have no idea what happen. The only thing we did find out was that my thyroid was almost non existent and I needed to start taking medication for it.

Within a few days, my liver jump started again. Everything started working fine, and my eyes no longer glowed orange. It still terrifies me to this day. How could they never figure out what happened?

Some doctors believe it had to do with my thyroid. Others believe I may have had a blockage. Either way, no one can tell me it won’t happen again. Which then ensued years of trying to get my thyroid levels under control.

I still have days where I don’t want to get out of bed, and the most simple task has me exhausted, but today…my good days far outweigh the bad. I am no longer in that dark place, and for some reason, that husband of mine has sticks by me. He’s a good dude for all that’s worth.

So the next time someone tells you they have Hypothyroid, give them a hug. They are working through a major life long struggle.


Symptoms of and caused by Hypothyroid disease:

Increased sensitivity to cold
Unable to conceive/ multiple miscarriages
Dry skin
Unexplained weight gain
Puffy face
Muscle weakness
Elevated blood cholesterol level
Muscle aches, tenderness and stiffness
Pain, stiffness or swelling in your joints
Heavier than normal or irregular menstrual periods
Thinning hair
Slowed heart rate
Impaired memory
Heart Problems
Peripheral Neuropathy
Birth Defects

Some Things About….Me.

meSo I keep getting emails from you random people out there wanting to know more about me. Apparently reading things I post on Facebook have intrigued people. Who woulda thunk it?

So instead of answering these questions over and over, I figured I would do a blog post about me. Answering some of the same questions you all have. Yay You! *dripping with sarcasm*

I still find it odd that people care enough to go out of their way to read what I randomly spew…and then still want to know about my person. Totally weirds me out. Why the hell would someone want to know about a crazy stay at home mother of 8?

So I suppose I will just give you a list…Maybe the top 10 things you need to know about me. Since I like lists…I use lists for everything. I even use lists to list the lists I need to list… (Okay…that was a little lame…but you get what I am saying)

1. I loath the color pink, yet wear it often. It looks good on me, and hell…with as many boys as I have, it’s the only thing that still makes me feel girly! I have even been known to rock the pink hair a time or 10.

2. I haven’t seen my natural hair color since I was 12. I have no idea if I am a blonde or a brunette. It would be totally kick ass if I were a red-head though… I dig red hair. Just ask my hair lady.

3. I LOVE tattoos. Even bad ones. I myself am sleeved, and have some birds on my chest, stars on my other arm…and a really bad (I think fairy) on my ankle from a million years ago. If it were up to me, I would be covered. It makes some family members cringe…but the way I look at it, When I am old and wrinkly, at least the wrinkles will be colorful even if you have no idea what the pic is.

4. I like to drink. Wine is my go to at home, while vodka is where I head when I am out. I am a beer snob (as the hubs puts it), which means I like them dark, red or stout. IPA’s are yummy, but you can keep em if they taste like a christmas tree. Oh…and don’t get me started on pumpkin or fruit. That shit does not belong in a beer.

5. I do not begin to function without a monster energy in the morning. In fact, there ain’t much I won’t do for one.

6. Mornings are not my friend. I should have put more thought into that before I had kids….because kids tend to start waking up when I am just thinking about going to bed, which means I only get between 3 and 4 hours of sleep a day.

7. I have a mouth that will make a sailor blush. “Word enhancers for the win!”

8. I am the worlds biggest procrastinator… yet if you are, then I hate you. I am the procrastinator that thinks everyone should jump to their feet and do what I say when I say it. Gods help you if you don’t.

9. I am never…ever…ever…. wrong….and totally smart as hell. Which means even if I am wrong, I can totally make you believe I am right. *This may be totally untrue, depending on who you speak too. Just know, they are wrong.

10. I am pretty loud. It’s called living in a house with 8 boys and a very loud hubs. You really do have to be loud to be heard.

11. I am NOT by any means a patient person. Sometimes it is a blessing…sometimes a major flaw. But I like to think of it as part of my colorful side.

12. As my hubs would say, I am an acquired taste. You love me or hate me… you never just kind of like me.

13. I never ever wanted kids. (I know… strange that I ended up with 8 right?) And I thank the gods every day that I had each and every one of them. Except for when I am reading or trying to sleep…

14. I am a total asshole… and not just when you wake me up. (which you don’t want to do)

15. I love to play homeless in my RV. We haven’t been able to do it much lately, but it really is my favorite thing to do with the boys. (Dirt bikes and the desert…just a good damn time)

16. I can’t stand people who give excuses for everything. Or do nothing but talk about themselves. Like seriously, I can give a shit that you think everyone thinks you’re awesome. Please let me beat you with a humble stick.

17. HOCKEY! I love love love hockey. Oh…and Doctor Who.

18. I cook the equivalent of Thanksgiving dinner every.damn.night. (Thats a lie…I make the hubs take me to dinner at least once a week. And if he is reading this, then that is a lie…he takes me out at least twice a week.)

19. I live in the desert… The summers can get up to 120 degrees…which is stupid, because I hate the heat, and I totally loathe the cold.

20. After 20 years, I still completely and unequivocally dig the hubs and his sexy bald head. I am actually one of those crazy people who doesn’t complain about him to everyone…though I do complain to him and his bff about him… but totally to his face. And only about things like, he needs to buy me a new purse, and take me to sushi and fly me off to tahiti…and if he would only pick up his socks we would be totally perfect! Oh and that he’s an asshole…but thats like calling the kettle black so that doesn’t count.

So the 10 answers turned into 20… And I didn’t even tell you how I always have makeup on, but don’t always brush my hair. You’re welcome! Now that I told you a little bit about me, lets hear about you! Introduce yourself!


Losing Your Shit and The Law

A few weeks ago in the news, I came across an article that had me almost fall out of my chair. (doesn’t help that one of the legs are broken…but thats neither here nor there) The thing was so out of the realm of making sense, that I am still thinking about it. Further more, every time I see a kid throwing a temper tantrum, I now go back to thinking about the whole debauchery of the situation. We live in a backassward society folks. Seriously.

In South Carolina, in a Kroger grocery store, a mother was arrested and is now facing charges, for cursing at her children. She *gasp* used the “f” word. (she must be a total heathen!)

Apparently her kid kept squeezing some bread that was in the cart… –which no one likes squished bread– so after numerous attempts to get this kid of hers to stop, she finally snapped…which is what led to the F-bomb incident.

The F-bomb! *shudder*

Then I got to thinking…If this law (which I think, I still may need to look up just in case.) was in California… I would have spent 18 years (maybe 16 ish) of my first borns life in jail. I do not have the cleanest of mouths, and that kid started giving me gray hair right out of the womb.

In the words of Patrick from spongebob… I use word enhancers.

Lots of them.

I can’t help it. This has been me for as long as I can remember. Is it always appropriate? Eh, probably not. And it’s not like I would drop the F-bomb in front of my Rabi…unless of course it was desperately needed…which in life…sometimes it is.

But jeeze folks! Have we really become a society that persecutes for language?

It wasn’t like she said, “hey! Squish that bread again and I will rip your arm off and hit you with it!” and then actually proceed to try to rip their arm off. (Fyi, confession: I have used that sentence more than a dozen times over the years…however I never ripped any arms off)

She used a curse word…after many attempts to get her kid to listen…in public. She was probably at her wit’s end!

How many times have you been at a grocery store with bratty kids, in a bad mood in tow? If you are a parent, you have at least had this happen to you at least once…

Temper Tantrums

And in some cases, you may or may not have a kid who has thrown something…and not just themselves.

We can’t always hold our shit together, doing nothing but whispering through gritted teeth…with all the veiled threats we can muster.

And because we have all lived through this, why must we all judge that poor mother/father trying to finish the last of the grocery shopping with the loud screaming child. It’s not their fault. I’m sure they want nothing more than to hide under a rock. They are doing what they can.

Hell…when I was a child, my mother would have pulled the wooden spoon out of her purse, took me in the bathroom, and swatted me into listening. However, that was a totally different world…Now she would probably get a life sentence for the spoon.

How does one even discipline a child in public anymore?

I guess you can talk sweetly, bribe them, or just do all your shopping online. It would be safer than accidently cursing. I wonder if amazon delivers wine?


An Award?! For Me!

liebesterHoly shitballs folks! I was nominated for an award!

Crazy huh?

But it’s all true, I woke up Sunday morning to this little doozy and was like…WTF! Someone likes me? They really really like me! It’s one of those things where, I write for me. I use to think it would be really cool if people would find what I said inspirational or exciting. I wanted them to be entertained. I was going to be the heterosexual, a lot more pudgy, Ellen DeGeneres of the blogging world. (Seriously…it could happen in a parallel universe)

Then reality struck. I began to worry about stats and visits…comments and traffic. Then things began to change. Writing started to stress me out. It was a chore, a job…and not a fun one at that.

My writing suffered, and not just my blog. I never wrote. I took a break and lost the two years of my writing when my website had been hacked. At first I was depressed. Then I realized something.

I could be me again! I could start over, write like I had in the beginning. I no longer look at the stats and traffic page. I no longer care about what people think, (not totally at least) and I now don’t hold back. I say what I think, and blow off the haters. So maybe this award makes me more happy than it should. I mean, how can it not?

So like everything in this world, there are rules to this thing. I have to list 10 people in the blogging sphere that I believe also deserve this award… which is funny because the 10 I may know, are already nominated. So…

I also have to link back to the blog who nominated me, which I think is brilliant, because I think Life With The Bearded J’s is brilliant. Love her. She has a facebook page as well as a blog, so I’m linking both, because you have to at least check one out if not both. So here are the questions she asked, and lucky you…you get to see/hear/read the answers…

*Drum roll*

1. What’s your favorite past-time, aside from blogging?

Aside from drinking wine in bed and reading, (which I do A LOT and besides the blogging thing), my favorite passtime is hanging out at our local hole-in-the-wall bar. The place is a total dive. Everyone knows everyone, and they have karaoke. Which means, I get to watch the hubs sing. He actually rocks, and is super sexy when he does. Sad to say, it only took 15 years before I knew this. In fact, the first 15 years of our marriage, I could have sworn he was tone deaf!

2. If you could turn back the hands of time and do one thing in life differently what would it be and why?

I could give the old cliche “nothing, because everything I have done has made me who I am” However, I wont. Because the one thing I would change, would be understanding and patients. The hubs and I were young when we started having kids, and at times I think the kids suffered from it.

3. What is your main goal you would like to accomplish with your blog?

More consistency. I would like to be more consistent with my writing.

4. If you could have lunch with one person, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

My Gram. She was an amazing woman. She never judged me, even when others would. She always had my back and encouraged me to be great. She was smart as a whip, and was never afraid to voice her opinion (which she had a lot of). She was by far the strongest woman I have ever known. She lived an amazing life, and I miss that woman like crazy. Infact every Sunday, I still wake up thinking I need to call her, just to realize she won’t be there to answer.

5. What inspires you to write?

Life. There are so many things I hear/see and think… That needs to be told. How can I NOT write about that. Even if I never post for the public, I still write about it.

6. What is your blogging routine? (How do you go about creating a new blog entry from start to finish?)

I really don’t have a routine. I have ADHD when it comes to writing. Right now as I write this, I have about 11 pages open aside from gdocs. I start to write, stalk facebook, flip through songs on spotify and read the news. I have my kindle fire on the desk that I constantly write notes about other things I want to write about, ideas for new books (Yes I write more than the blog), and quotes I think of. All while also yelling at the locust and watching the dogs kick each others ass.

7. What is one thing you want the blogging community to know about you?

My hubs likes to say I am an acquired taste… I always say that something is an acquired taste when something tastes like shit…he said it just means you love me or hate me… that no one ever says “Gee I think Sippy is ok…I kind of like her, sometimes…” So I suppose, it’s up to you to decide.

8. What is your fondest childhood memory?

hmm… thats a hard one. I guess I would have to say, the last time I got to spend with my moms parents.

My grandparents lived about 4-5 hours away, which meant we were only able to visit them a few times a year, however this one time when they came to visit, they took me back with them for a couple of weeks.

To keep me busy, my gram taught me how to do macrame, which lead to a lot of plant hangers and owls. (which might explain my fondness for everything owl) She also let me wear makeup (I was maybe 11) out of the house, regardless of how stupid I probably looked. (So glad blue eyeshadow and pearl frost lips are no longer the “In” thing to wear).

My grandpa (who I had always called dad’dad) let me weld about 500 pennies to all of his tools in his workshop. That was the only time I had ever spent with them alone before, and after many many years I still think about the time we had had together.

9. If you were not doing what you do everyday (doing the same thing is not an option) what would you be doing? (for work or for fun)

I would clean far less! But aside from that, I would probably finnish law school. (it’s a long very boring story why I never did.)

10. Describe your first *real* date, the one with no chaperones!

Would you be shocked to know I had NEVER been on a real date before I was married? Seriously! I always went with groups of people everywhere. Then, after 4 months of dating (in groups) my hubs and I eloped. After the marriage, we did the dating thing. We are kind of backwards like that with everything. But hey…we date each other all the time now!

So now that you got to read all my questions and ramblings, this is where I am supposed to nominate 10 other blogs. I am supposed to ask them 10 questions, and what do you know…I know no one. The only blogs I follow have either been nominated (Like The Hoare)…or have more than 1000 followers which of course puts them out of the running. So instead, I am asking ya’ll for names. Names of men/women I may not know about. People YOU as a reader think are more worthy of this award. Leave a comment, or share them in an email or better yet, share them on my Sippy Cups and Booze facebook fan page. Lets get them noticed!


Boys Pee and The Disgusting Bathroom

Nothing scares me more, than having someone ask to use our restroom.

Trust me…I get all clammy feeling and want to vomit. I would love nothing more than to tell them the gas station down the street is quite clean.

I am a neat freak, stuck in a house full of nasty disgusting boys. I clean all the time…even have a crazy chore chart with stuff like floorboards and door jams.

These things are actually cleaned a few times a week.

The house is vacuumed, swept and even moped daily. Yes daily!

Dusting is done a few days a week. Mostly because we live in a dusty desert…so even as you dust…it needs to be done again.

I make my bed every morning when I wake up. It’s a thing…I can’t go on with my day knowing it hasn’t been done. Plus, I’m less likely to crawl back into bed if it’s made.

If you look in my pantry, I have everything placed neatly on shelves. In order of what it is. This means beans with beans…pasta with pasta…Nothing out of place, unless of course the kids go in there for something. Then I end up freaking out and fixing it all again.

The other day boy 3 was saying he is the only one on his football team, where his practice pants have no stains. I was shocked! You mean the other mothers don’t scrub viciously like a crackhead, so there are no stains on their kids clothes?

However, no matter how clean I expect things to be…you would never know it with the amount of people in our house. Things are cluttered. There just isn’t enough room for all the bodies, and all the stuff those bodies accumulate in our small house. We are totally in need of an upgrade, but I hate packing so we are stuck for a while.

That being said….

dirty-bathroomI fucked up folks. When I started having boys, and started the potty training thing…I should have taught them to sit on the toilet. I mean, until they were around other men, they would have no idea they were supposed to stand…and man would I have a clean bathroom.

Flash back almost 17 years ago. That was when boy 1 started his potty training extravaganza.

Thats a lot of years I have been fighting the deadly battle of the urine soaked bathroom.

I made the mistake of hanging a picture above the toilet. It was the early 90’s so looking back it was an ugly picture, but still… the stories.

It was the picture of a seashell. It was laying on a beach with the ocean in the background. I took it down to dust it… the ocean moved. The ocean should not have moved.

That was the first inclination things were going to be gross from there on out.

I have over the years learned you should NOT have a pee bucket placed near the toilet. It is better to keep it under the sink, far away from little boys and bad aim. What is a pee bucket you ask? In most homes it is a wastebasket. A place to throw away the cardboard left over from the toilet paper rolls…or maybe someplace to discard hair from a brush, or used tissue…but in a house full of little boys…its a place where little boys will pee.

Though none of those boys will admit it was them. The never do.

I remember people telling me to “Place cheerios in the toilet!” or “They have stickers you place in the toilet…make peeing a game!” This is supposed to help them NOT pee on the wall or floor.

That doesn’t work folks…we are talking future “Writing your name in the snow with your pee” boys.

With as awful as it may have been, the worst of it has got to be the smell… No matter what you do, the bathroom always smells like a public urinal.

Bleach the floors…behind the toilet…the walls…

All you get is urine with the scent of bleach.

Candles… oh the thousands of dollars I have spent on candles. It really doesn’t matter if you get one that smells like vanilla or a pine tree…it always smells like pee.

I have even tried those little waxy thing you put under the seat in your car… The ones you get from the gas station or car wash, in the little metal tin… Then the boys used that to color the walls…again no one admitted to the shenanigans, and took me months to clean up. Finally had to paint the crap.

If I was a chemical engineer I would spend my lifetime, trying to find something that covers the smell of mens waste. I would probably make a killing, or at least enough to hire a maid just for the bathrooms.

I dream of the days when the boys all grow up and have to worry about what their bathroom in their own house smells like. The day mine all smell like pine and vanilla. I shudder at the poor wives that will live in it, and hope she ends up with her own bathroom like I have.

I have repainted, switched out toilet seats, and even replaced the wax ring under the toilet. I have begged the husband to build me a concrete bathroom, with a drain, and a hose, so I can put on my HazMat suit and clean the bathroom.

Maybe I should start a campaign to get other mothers to train all their boys to sit. We can start a revolution that will purge the world of the urine-on-floor-epidemic! Yep…that bad boy starts now! *All boys must sit to pee!*


10,000 Spoons and The Ogre

Spoons Funny 1While we have the “remodel the kitchen from hell” going on here, the hubs and I have decided we needed to start investing in new kitchen crap, because we have been married over 20 years and should stop living as if we are bachelors…

You know…pots and pans –because all of mine were cheap walmart crap from when we first got married…which means they are 20 years old, none of the lids fit, everything is warped and looks like shit… aka resembles something from an excavation at the la Brea tar pits–

New silverware… We have actually never bought an actual set. We have a set from when the hubs was growing up, a set from when I was a kid…and a bunch of randoms from who knows where…I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were from random kids that come over to eat at the house…almost like, “Hey, since I’m here…and I brought my own fork, how about I just sit at the table with you guys and eat your food. Then you can have the fork when I am done with it, that way I don’t have t clean it.” Seriously…it happens all the time.

But what weirds me out, aside from the magical appearing cutlery…

I have 10,000 spoons…one bent fork and a few hundred butter knives.

How does one accumulate 10,000 spoons you ask? I have no idea… What do we even need with that many spoons?
Is there a breeding program for spoons I was never told about? One that is going on in the broken drawer no one uses in my kitchen?

“Attention all lonely spoons! We will now all meet at the Sippy Cups house for procreation, and breeding! Get ready for some intense spooning! and maybe even a little forking! All shapes and sizes welcome!”

The spoons are even migrating all over the house. You find them in the couch, behind the TV, under beds, closets…I even found one in the dryer the other day, although I am sure 8 was the one who put it in there.

It’s as if they have a mind of their own…

I think it could be the new making of a bad Hitchcock movie. “The Spoons”

So the hubs and I went in search of something we could both agree on…which is pretty much impossible, because of his ocd and my, “I don’t agree with anything unless it’s my idea, because I am a woman” attitude.

See…I just want something that is capable of cutting something without bending in half… He on the other hand wants something heavy, thick, plain with no flowers or crazy decorations, and manly looking…no foofy stuff for my guy!

This led us on the search for cutlery… which pretty much had me in panic mode…why you ask? Well because when we went on the search for plastic cups…the hubs would drop them, throw them on the ground and looked like a crazy man. In his defense, he was just trying to see how long they would last with our kids…but apparently he has never heard the term, “Break it, and you buy it.”

He scared the shit out of an old lady at Costco when he picked up a Rubbermaid container and chucked it across the back-end of the store once… but hey, we ended up buying those containers, as well as a few other mothers he impressed with his Ogre throwing skills.

It’s amazing how many different types of cutlery there is out there. It’s not all main course and salad forks. It was completely overwhelming. In fact, I was almost ready to start snagging shit from all the restaurants we have been living at since the flooding debacle, but I thought twice about it… Why start my criminal career by stealing forks. I’m sure I am better suited for bank robbery or something cool like a mafia boss.

So after much consideration, we finally found a set at Costco, because why else wouldn’t we? (This is the same place you can buy eggs, a car and a casket…I’m just waiting for them to start selling livers…and not the kind you eat.)

We even bought two sets, so we have enough silverware when people come over. Is it kind of weird that I want to put a chain on them like they do with pens at the bank? I was thinking that it would keep my kids from taking them outside to dig in the dirt.

I feel like such an adult now that they match. Pretty sad that only took until I was almost 40.


10 Question you should never ask a parent of a large family.

large-family-silhouetted-by-sunsetI get that having a lot of kids is kind of a phenomenon for a lot of people. I mean, I get that most of the world is stuck at the norm 2.5 kids… nonetheless, that shouldn’t lead to some of the questions the hubs and I get…and boy do we get some doozies.

So I am going to do you a little favor… when you see someone with more than four kids, do not ask them these 10 questions. Because believe me… we all imagine punching you in the throat when you do.

10. You do know how that happens…right? –of course we know how babies happen… we both took biology in high school. But why do people think they need to explain the birds and the bees to us, will never make sense to me–

9. Were you trying until you had a girl? –No… see, after 3 or 4 boys, you pretty much assume they are all going to be boys.–

8. Are you trying to repopulate the world with the [insert my last name here] name? –This one always bugs me. It makes me sound like a clan member. No it has nothing to do with repopulating the world.

7. Don’t you have a television or something? –We sure do! We also have tivo…which means we can pause, and record live tv….and?–

6. How the hell do you afford it? Do you get welfare or something? –This one makes me want to punch people in the throat. Just because I have a lot of kids, does not mean I get welfare…hell…I wish I did, because then maybe my hubs wouldn’t have to work his ass off. But we don’t…because like I just said, the hubs works his efing ass off. Are we rocking a house and cars worthy of MTV Cribs? No…but we make do with what we have. Kids are clothed, bills paid, food on the table, cars that run… we are happy, and to me…thats all that matters–

5. Are you crazy? –actually I am. So I can’t get mad at this question.–

4. Do you ever wish you stopped at 3? –What the hell kind of question is that? Do you wish you never had your kids?–

3. Are you catholic or mormon? –This isn’t the 1800’s. Religion has nothing to do with it.–

2. Do you guys do anything besides procreate? –Nope. We are like succubus/incubus…all we do is have sex. All day and night every day and night. We rarely have time for food or drink we have sex so much.–

1. And my all time “I want to punch you in the throat” fave…Are they all yours? Or are they his? –Now lets get something straight. First off they are both of ours. We have been married for 20+ years. However, even if they weren’t ours together…or even if we adopted… is it really the business of someone you just met? Thats like asking someone if they dye their hair or wax their lip…you just dont do it!

1.0 Are you trying to catch up to 18 kids and counting?
–Good god…I have 8 not 18!–

So now, next time you see one of us “humping like crazy” parents of more than 4 kids… just high five them…tell them they do a great job…and maybe buy them a drink. Hell… just do that for any parent!


NaBloPoMo…no really!

Because I’m crazy… I had decided to join in on the NaBloPoMo thing.Which means I have to commit to 30 days of writing.. ugh. But in my ultimate procrastination, it is now the 17th… only 17 days after the first of the month when it was supposed to start. Hopefully this will get my butt back into writing again. Instead of just internalizing all the crap again. This may be painful guys. Which leads us into todays post…

Have you ever sat in a group of people and wondered wtf?

See, that’s part of my problem. The inner dialog that rambles through my head while I am speaking to people, sometimes gets me into trouble.
I don’t get people. It’s a little complicated. So most of the time, when things get awkward for me, I turn into a big ‘ole faker.

If someone is upset. Crying. Angry. I suck at the comforting thing. Hell, even with my kids I have to fake it sometimes, because lets face it… it’s not their fault mom is kind of broken that way.

But even when I do try to comfort them… I feel like I am doing it wrong.
If someone is crying, I want to duck out and move on to something less uncomfortable. Maybe just throw them a box of tissue and change the subject.

Throw glow sticks and glitter and yell RAVE!

This is part of the reason I dropped out of nursing school right after high school…I am not very nurse like. I pity anyone who may have been my patient!

Patient: “excuse me nurse…my arm really hurts”

Nurse Me: “Oh jeez…it’s just an arm for crying out loud…you have another one!”

I cringe knowing sometimes I need to go pat the crying person on the back, or god forbid hug them…touch them. I am not a hugger…but again…I hug people so THEY don’t feel awkward. I mean, think about it…can you imagine walking up to someone, and you reach out to hug them, only to have them quickly dodge you like the plague? I shudder at the thought. Because although I may not want to touch them…the last thing I need is to make someone feel bad.

I come off kind of harsh, yet I am super sensitive. (Just won’t let you see that… I am a closet crier)

So when a girlfriend came over to cry…like ugly cry with puffy eyes and snot… I almost died. Theres nowhere to run when they corner you in your own home.

My only reprieve was when my dog wouldn’t leave her alone so I had to go crate him.

I clucked my tongue on cue in all the right spots, when she told me over and over how horrible her boyfriend was (he forgot to take the trash to the curb on trash day) and how he never cares about her (even though he would do anything physically possible for her)… and How will she ever continue to live with such an asshole…

I poured her a glass of wine and offered her food. (Knowing both would give her pause)
I tried to listen to most of what she said, only daydreaming about how long my kitchen will be in shambles a few times…and the laundry I really should be washing right now for a min.

She luckily never looked at me with the “please give me a hug” eyes, because I may not have made it…

By the time she left, I was physically exhausted…however she said I made her feel much better. So I suppose being a faker is still better than just looking like an asshole!

How are you with people? Does it stress you out when they need you to touch them? Tell me what you think, and leave a comment. Don’t be shy!


Water Heaters, Floods, and Superheros…oh my!

If you have ever gone through a remodel, and lived to tell the tale, I bow to you. For you are my hero!

It’s the first day of school. Things are crazy, because hey… we just had the summer off, and now I am running around the house trying to get the first three boys off to school.

Meanwhile, boy 8 is running around in his underwear and cape. He informs me, (despite the plethora of bribes that leave my lips) that he is dressed for the day.That there is no reason… on any planet… in the foreseeable future…why he should put on pants.

Superheros don’t need pants.
Underwear, capes, and (one) hulk-hand is all the craze in the toddler world…not forgetting to also sport the robin mask.
Apparently, they’re cool like that, and because I am not cool, I didn’t receive that new memo.

I’m hanging on the edge by this point. Trying to figure out which battles I can handle at 5:45am.

I should take a minute to explain something before we go any further.

I am totally… unequivocally… NOT… by any means…. a morning person.
I despise mornings.
I believe the only people who enjoy waking up in the morning, are either the devil… or crazy people…and probably the people who work for the IRS… those guys have to enjoy waking early.

I will however, –against my better judgment– get up because I have too… but in reality, I am my best well after 10am-ish.

This means I am on edge as soon as the alarm goes off. I am one eye open, as I stumble like a zombie to the kitchen to grab myself the holy grail of my mornings –the infamous monster energy drink– The first draw on that baby is like a brilliant sunset in my mouth. It is, to say the least… quite orgasmic.

Its pathetic how this has become the highlight of my days. I’m like a crazy crack head banging on their dealers door when I run out. It’s pretty disturbing. Maybe at some point I should seek some type of twelve step program for it, but I suppose that should be a discussion for another day, as I have seemed to become off track here.

Anyhoo, back to the morning…

While in the mad rush to get the boys ready, 2 informs me that he can’t take a shower because there is no hot water. anywhere… none in the bathroom…none in the kitchen…


This means… at some point, I will have teenage meltdowns. Which is obviously one of my many favorite things in the world. I mean, who doesn’t think a teenage meltdown on the first day back to school isn’t rad?

Thats when I notice the waterfall going on in the backyard.

The water heater is a sputtering mess.

Water spraying out everywhere, which means I am sure the water ninjas are on their way to wreak havoc on my morning… because of course I live in California…in the desert… where theres a huge drought and water conservation thing is going on.

All because of this water heater, millions of people will be out of water by afternoon.

By the time I knew the water heater became my new arch nemesis, it was far too late to save the day…despite the cape 8 was wearing.

The flooding water made its way into the kitchen cabinets like a tsunami , not forgetting to lay its dirty little hands on the pantry, as well as boy 2 and 3’s bedroom.

For the next 30 days, I get to live with no kitchen. How does one feed a family of 9 for 30 days (as long a everything goes right…which it never does) with no kitchen?

And for 30 days I will have 2 boys sleeping on the couch, because their room is part of the war zone.

I am not really sure how I feel about this. I suppose on the bright side, it ill be a learning experience. This is something that the “better moms” out there (or maybe a sitcom) would claim, will bring the family together in some spiritual way.

I however am having spontaneous panic attacks.
My OCD is laying claim to the fact there will be dust everywhere, that I wont be able to clean. While walls, counters, pantry and closets get ripped out and put back together all new…I will have no control on anything.

I…mother of 8… without control? I shudder in fear.

We will be down to one bathroom in the house since luckily it has its own water heater. This means again, my OCD is reminding me that there will be 8 men missing the toilet in my personal bathroom. The bathroom they have never been allowed to use.

That 8 men will be showering in my personal bathroom.

That despite all the planning, I have more crap to store from my kitchen than I know what to do with.

There isn’t enough wine in the world to get me through this unscathed. So, in the meantime, if you don’t hear from me… I have probably moved to tahiti and changed my name. (at least until everything is back to normal)


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