I live in a neighborhood.  If you cross my street at the stop sign, there is an elementary school there.  I know it’s there and every single morning, the crossing dude waves to me as I take my kids to school.  A little farther down the road…another school….another school zone.  A little farther…another and then another.

That’s right, people.  4 school zones…every single morning.

This is what happened to me the other morning…..

We were running late.  We usually are, but this morning later than usual.  It was go Texan day and Sassy Gal couldn’t get her socks on, because they actually came up over her ankles.  Then she couldn’t pull her jeans down without her socks falling down.  Then she couldn’t get her boots on.

Brattitude Boy snapped his jean shirt on wrong and refused to take his cowboy hat off while eating, so it took him twice as long.  He also had to walk on the heels of his boots, because it is cool.

We were late…which makes me a lunatic crazy yelling screaming speeding mommy.

And, that’s when it happened.  I swerved around a car…because he was going the school zone speed limit and what happens…Joe cop pops out from behind the bushes and jumps in front of my car with his hand out and his gun…speed gun…DUH…pointed at my car.

I had two options…run him over with my Land Rover, which would have caused little to no damage to my car or pull over.  I pulled over.  My kids were in the car.  I was cussing up a blue streak and the kids were laughing.  LAUGHING!!

Joe Cop “Do you know how fast you were going?”

Me “As fast as the car in front of me? I’m really sorry, but I am late taking my kids to school this morning.”

Joe Cop peers around me to the back seat. “Well, you were going 34 in what is normally a 35, but it is a school zone.  Were you aware that this is a school zone?”

Me thinking…should I lie?? “Ummm, yes, but I am running late. And, I was just trying to get around that car over there.”

Joe Cop “Wait right here and you can roll your window up, Ma’am, if you are cold.”

How sweet…Joe Cop was concerned with me catching a cold while he was making me late for school while giving me a ticket!

Brattitude Boy “Are you going to jail?”

Me “No, they don’t take mommies to jail for speeding, just little boys that are in the cars with them.”

BB “I HATE you mommy.”

Me “And, especially little boys that say they hate their mommies.”

Sassy Gal “I’m telling my teacher you got a ticket.”

Me “You are not telling anyone, and by the way, I can have that cop haul you to jail too.”

Well, the Joe Cop came back and gave me a ticket, which I can have deferred.  All of that for what?? A FRIGGIN WARNING!!

And, what is the lesson learned here?  When you are running late and speeding through a school zone, make sure that no short little cops are hiding in the bushes first.

Conversations with kids are funny.

Let me set the scene….

For the first time in at least 6 years, since Brattitude Boy was born, we had a lovely afternoon together, me, him and his sister.  There was no fighting, no arguing, no whining and seriously, folks…it was fantastic.

After dinner we get home and BB has found his spot on the new bean bag chair in the playroom.  This is our conversation…

BB “Mommy, these are so much cooler than the Bean Bag chairs we have in our room at school.”

Me “Really?  That’s nice to know.”

BB “Those are for when you need to go and have some time to yourself.  If you get mad or sad.  So you can chill out and think. These we get to watch TV on.”

Yes, the TV factor makes ours cooler, duh!

BB “I was good today, but I had to go and sit on the bean bag chair because I got upset today.”

Me “What happened that made you upset today?”

BB “We were playing kickball and ARod kicked me in the wiener with his very hard shoe.  It hurt when he kicked me in the wiener.  I started to cry and grabbed my wiener.  I had to go to the bean bag chair until my wiener felt better.  Then I hit Arod with a ball when my wiener felt better.  He hit me back and I went and told the teacher he kicked me in the wiener with his hard shoe.  The teacher told him he shouldn’t kick other boys in the wiener.  Cuz it hurts when you get kicked in the wiener.  So, I told ARod he needed to apologize to me for kicking me in the wiener. And he got put in time out for kicking me in the wiener.”

Me “Did he apologize?”

BB “No.  He never apologized for kicking me in the wiener.  But, I’m not mad at him anymore, I just hope I don’t get kicked in the wiener again any time soon!”

**DISCLAIMER Wieners were hurt before the telling of this story.  The word wiener was used as many times as it is written and this story was not embellished for humor mommy blogging.**

OMG! I never thought we would make it to this day. I never thought this day would come. I never thought I would let him live this long.

Brattitude Boy is six today.

Once again, I know I should wax poetic about the 40 + pounds I gained while pregnant with him, and how he used the inside of my uterus as his own personal boxing arena. I should gush about how he wanted to come early and how many pre term contractions I had, so I was restricted at the end of the pregnancy.

I should post his pictures….like this one… so you can ohhh and awwww about how cute he was…

Or this one…

Or this…

Or even this…

But, I don’t want to bore you with the details…let’s just say it is a red letter day…he made it out of the terrible twos, the horrendous threes, the kill me now fours and the will he ever keep his mouth shut for 5 minutes fives, and now we are entering into a new age, where the slate is wiped clean, the teeth will start to fall out, the voice will start to lower and he will continue to light up the world with a smile that melts your heart and eyes that turn you into a pool of putty in his little tiny hands…ahhhh, six…will he make I make it to seven??

The jury’s still out.

The noise was deafening and the crowd was loud. There was pushing and shoving as people fought their way up to the front of the already long line, waiting to get in.

Lights were flashing and music was blaring. You had to scream to be heard.

All this for some crappy food and fake animals and Rainforest Cafe in the Galleria. Remind me, to NOT go there again.

Let me set the scene….

Ricky Retardo is out of town, and during book fair, the kids got coupons for a free kid’s meal at Rainforest Cafe. FREE. F R E E. I thought…Awesome!! It is an entire evening of fun at the Galleria…one of the worlds greatest indoor shopping malls….that is the weekend’s entertainment…and the meal is FREE!

Turns out that Sassy Gal had other priorities and plans, so it was Brattitude Boy and me.

We get to the Galleria and it was like the day before Christmas. I have never seen so many people and cars in my life. 30 minutes later, when we finally got a parking space, we were inside the mall.

That is when my instincts to cut and run set in…but I promised BB, who had to…can you guess….yes, folks….MAKE A DOO DOO. Another 20 minutes later, after we have run to the bathroom, because the urge started in the car, as usual, we make our way down to the bottom level, where the food court, restaurants and ice skating rink are.

Now, I don’t like crowds. I am claustrophobic and frankly, I don’t like strange smellies in my personal space. It was the U.N. It was crazy. It was a 40 minute wait to get into this friggin restaurant.

After 20 minutes, where I was tired of chasing around a whirly dirvish, I ask the woman at the front how much longer…now the time is ONE HOUR!! Are you kidding me?? Was she punishing me asking?? I took one look at BB, who was getting hungry/cranky and said, Thanks, but no thanks.

Holding BB tightly by the hand, I wormed my way out of there and back to the car. This is our conversation in the car…

BB “I have a hypotomis.”
Me “What?”
BB “I have a hypotomis, do you wanna hear it?”
Me “A what?”
BB “HYPOTOMIS! We should never go back to Rainforest Cafe again.”

Sassy Gal’s hypotomis this weekend was that cookies taste like crap with no butter and BB’s was that the Galleria sucks.

It was a learning weekend.

This post is for Matty over at Matty Thoughts, who I love, and if you haven’t checked him out, you should. He was my first dude that followed me, and he is a love!!

I want to tell you about The Big Puma, aka Lance Berkman. For those of you that aren’t baseball fans, let me enlighten you about Mr. Berkman…

He has only played for the Houston Astros his whole professional career. I am going to give you some stats, which mean nothing to me, but might to someone who knows something about baseball, which I don’t…

* Five time All-Star (2001-02, 2004, 2006, 2008)
* 12th among active players in batting average (.303)
* 5th among active players (25th all-time) in on-base percentage (.416)
* 12th among active players (25th all-time) in slugging percentage (.561)
* 7th among active players (17th all-time) in OPS (.983)
* Led NL in doubles (55) in 2001.
* Led NL in RBI (128) in 2002.
* National League Player of the Month in May 2004 and May 2008.
* National League Player of the Week for April 21-27 and May 5-11 in 2008*
* Lance Berkman holds the National League record for most single season RBIs (136) as a switch hitter.
* Holds the record for most home runs in day games at Minute Maid Park (147).
* Holds the record for most home runs at Great American Ballpark in Cincinnati for an opposing player with 20 in his career.
From Wikipedia

So this guy is a BIG DEAL…right??

Last week, at my kids school they had a guest reader every day, because it is Book Fair. Lance Berkman came to read “Casey at Bat” to the school. After he read, he took questions.

One brave little boy, who refused to wear his Astros shirt to the reading and instead wore his Cincinnati Reds shirt from TBall, stood up to ask a question….

Brattitude Boy “Mr. Berkman, what made you want to be a baseball player?”
Lance Berkman “Well, I am going to answer that question, but first I have a question for you. Why are you wearing a Cincinnati Reds Tee shirt?”
BB “I like the color red.”

Everyone laughed…and when everyone laughed, BB cracked up. I am so proud of my little guy for standing up and being so brave and asking a question…even though he was wearing his Cincinnati Reds shirt while talking to a Houston Astro.

I never seem to remember conversations that my kids have, so for a few months, I have been writing down snippets just in case I wanted to do this.  BTW…I got this idea from Helen over at I’m Living Proof that God Has a Sense of Humor…I think she is my sister from the same mister….ya never know….Don’t judge!  A gal can dream!

Me “Where are the parents.  We never see them.”
Sassy Gal “They didn’t hire parents.”

Ricky Retardo aka Hubby “Who’s that Sassy Gal?” H
He’s pointing at the TV.
SG “Elvis, everyone knows Elvis!” Yes, this was said with attitude.
RR “Everyone knows Elvis?”
Brattitude Boy “Who’s Velmis?”
RR “SG, do you like your shoes?”

Me “RR, Take the dog out.”
BB “Take SG out too, she’s been bad.”

In a parking lot
Me “BB you need to watch for cars or else you will go splat flat as a pancake.”
SG “Then I can be an only child.”

BB “Tonight we are going to go and celbrate GA’s Deadness?”
Me “Yes, honey.”
BB “Will she be brown or green?”
Me “She is neither, you won’t see her.”
BB “I am sad she is dead.”
Me “Me too, baby.”
BB “I think when we celebrate at dinner I am going to cry over her deadness.”

No, I am not asking the question, WHY is it Wednesday.  I know it is Wednesday, because it comes after Tuesday, and yesterday was Tuesday.  Right??

Today I am going to do a little theme meme all on my own.  I have several questions that have popped up into my head recently, and I was wondering if any of you smarties out there could give me answers.  You can leave the answers in the comment section below or you can just lurk and read everyone else’s answers without joining in on the fun.

So, today’s question for “Why is it ….” Wednesday…..

Why is it that whenever I get into the car with my kids they start to fight?  Is it the car?  I drive a truck, so there is plenty of room.  Is there some kind of odor in the air that when they breathe it in, they turn into sumo wrestling monsters?  They fight over the music, the air conditioning, the seat belts.  This is their fight every single morning…

“Don’t touch my back paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.”
“Get your back pack awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy from me.”
” Brattitude Boy…Don’t TOUCH my back pacccccccccccccccccccck.”
“It’s in my wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

Pushing and shoving of the backpack ensue and before you know it one of them is crying. 
EVERY. SINGLE. MORNING.

I know, you are thinking….Idiot, put it in the front seat or on the floor of the car!  Like I haven’t thought of that!!  BB’s is on the floor in the middle.  SG’s in on the seat in the middle.  The reason they aren’t in the front is that when you drop off, they must have their back pack’s in hand and be ready to jump out of the car before you stop or else the car pool maven’s get very POed! 

So, why not put SG’s on the floor?  It doesn’t fit on the floor in the middle, yes, it is that big.  Why not put it under her feet?  Now, that’s just stupid to even ask THAT one!  If you did, then

A. You obviously don’t have kids that are old enough to complain about the back pack taking up their foot space.
2.  You enjoy being kicked in the back while you are driving!

This same fight ensues on the way home every afternoon as well.  But, on the way home, they try to get me involved. 

“Mommy, he touched my back pacccccccccccccccck.”
“Mommy, she pushed the back pack into meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
“Mommy, he called me a naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaame.”
“Mommy, she hit meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
“Mommy, tell him to move his fooooooooooooooooot.”
“Mommy, she is annoying meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
“Mommy, he kicked meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
“Mommy, she is laughing at meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
“Mommy, he is licking the seatbelt!!”
“Mommy, she is copying meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”
“Mommy, stop singing so loud!”
“Mommy, roll up the windows!”
“Mommy, don’t drive over the bridge!”
“Mommy, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
“MOMMY, THE CAR IS SINKING!”

Oops…sorry…got a little carried away.  Why is it that my kids fight whenever we get into the car?

Everyone talks about their weekends.  How wonderful they were, how they had a fantastic date night with hubby.  How they went to a pumpkin patch.  How they cleaned things out.  How productive it was.

Well GOOD for YOU. 

Here’s how mine went.  Let me set the scene….

An off white brick house in Bellaire, Texas with overgrown grass and dead flowers in the front.  Inside, the couch cushions don’t match, because the two large dogs have taken over and they had to be replaced.  There are shoes, socks, dog bones, newspapers, magazines, school work, candy wrappers and soap supplies all over the counters.  It’s heaven on earth, oh, and it’s raining.

Saturday AM – Brattitude Boy wakes up, as usual, very early.  He pounds like an elephant on the run into the bedroom, waking up me, hubby and the dogs, who are now scratching on the door to get out.  Because I got lucky the night before and was feeling generous, I get up and let the dogs out.  Make BB breakfast and we proceed to go to the playroom to play some games.

Yes, people, I played games.  Soon after, Sassy Gal walks in.  She sits and we all play.  The fighting starts.  It is arguing.  A little touch here, and a “She touched me there” ensues.  I break it up.

Hubby finally finishes with his beauty sleep and decides to get up at 11 am.  Yes, you read it right.  11 am.  The kids go upstairs to get dressed.  They go outside to play.  This is what ensues.  This is not a dramatization. 

BB “GIVE ME THAT NOW, ITS MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!!!!!!!!!!!”
SG “Noooooooooooooooooooo, I want to use it.”
BB “I SAID GIVE IT TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
SG “Noooooooooooooooooooo, get away from me, it’s MY turn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
BB screaming at the top of his lungs “GIVE IT TO ME NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!”

A scuffle.  The door opens.

SG “BB hit me and pinched me.  Look!  Right here!”
Me “What were you were playing with?”
SG “He HIT me.”
Me “What did you take from him?”
SG “The tennis ball, but he wasn’t using it and it was my turn!”
Me “We have a thousand tennis balls out there, why can’t you play with another one?  Why do you have to provoke your brother? I see that smile, and I KNOW you started it.  The neighbors can hear you two arguing.  Will you please not provoke him again today?”
SG “Okay, I’ll be good.”
Me “Thank you.”

The door opens again.  Sassy Gal goes to the door.  A scuffle ensues and then BB is screaming like a girl.

Me “WHAT is going on out here??”
BB “SHE KICKED ME!” WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Me “Did you kick him??”
SG “Yes, but he kicked me first, and for no reason! All I did was walk up to him and put my finger on his shoulder!”
Me “I just asked you to leave him alone!!”
BB “WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”
Me “THAT’S IT! BOTH OF YOU TO YOUR ROOMS!”

100 deep breaths.  Some yoga.   Some chanting.  Some tai chi.  Some herbal treatment.  Some acupuncture.  Some serious drugs.  I am now ready to face them upstairs.

First stop, BB’s room….

Me “I told you that we use our words and not our fists, feet or spit.  I warned you in the car yesterday that if the two of you got physical and touched each other in a mean way you would go straight to your room and not come out until the next day.  So, now you are in your room all day.  No movie, no out to dinner, no running around.”

Second stop, SG’s room….

Me “I told you in the car that if you got physical and mean with your brother that you would spend all day in your room.  You are the older sister and should no better.  He kicks you, you tell me.  You don’t kick back.  You are in  your room today, no movie, no dinner, no out.”

This was at 11:30 am.  Of course, I was stuck in the house all day too.  So, I cleaned the kitchen, organized the cabinets, got all the shit off the counters and took a 3 hour nap and for the first time stuck to the punishment.  Didn’t see or hear a child until 7 pm.  Guess i did have a pretty productive weekend after all!

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