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.

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.

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.”

We are hitting that pre teen angst stage with Sassy Gal, so I am going to chronicle it for your viewing pleasure.  One day, when she gets married, I am going to collect all of the pre teen angst posts and make them into a book and present them to her…right before they check me into the looney bin.

Sassy Gal has a TON O HAIR.  It is getting long and it is wavy and thick.  Every morning, she wakes up and takes a shower and her hair is so knotted in the back that you can hardly brush it.  So, last night I decided to brush her hair before she went to bed.

My theory….it would be easier to manage in the morning.

Fast Forward to the morning…..

Me “SG what would you like to drink in your water bottle?”
SG “Blue Gatorade, in my new water bottle, and add ice.”
Me “Got it.”

I go about my business, pouring the Gatorade in the new water bottle and adding ice.

SG “Did you put enough ice in?”
Me “Yes, your Highness.”

I got the evil pre teen stink eye.

Me “What? I called you a princess.  You are a princess!”

Stink eye multiplied with lower lip protruding and upper lip starting to snarl.

Me “I could have called you your Heiny.” pointing at my butt.

Stink eye not laughing at all…getting snarlier and squintier.

Me “So, was it easier to brush your hair this morning, since we brushed it last night?”
SG “NO, it was More Knottier than usual because you brushed it last night!”

I could help but laugh!  Then she laughed and our pre teen angst session was over.  I am not looking forward to the next few years.

Her hair was easier to brush, just in case you were wondering and she set up a gmail account so she can email her friends….god help us all….

It amazes me how powerful a bit of persuasion from peers makes you do things you didn’t want to do. 

No, I didn’t run naked through the streets…or jump off a cliff.

Some background for you…..

Sassy Gal is scared of everything.  And, that is NOT an exaggeration.  On the one hand, it has been good…I have never had to worry about her hurting herself, on the other, it has been bad.  She was scared to learn how to swim, ride a bike, go down a water slide, go down a regular slide, do gymnastics and the list goes on and on.

She finally learned how to swim after countless lessons and to ride a bike after lots of screaming.  She still will not go down a water slide or do gymnastics. 

I have been begging her to get her ears pierced.  My mother made me wait until I was 12 years old and it was torture…in fact, I am fairly certain that is why I am the way that I am today {twitching}.  Anyhoo, she was adamant about NOT getting them pierced.  I had the only child in America who’s mother was begging her to get their ear’s pierced and she was saying no!

We happen to live right by a Claire’s…ya know that place they pierce ears and have lots of crap you can buy your kids….and I said to her on the way home from school on her Birthday…Let’s go and get your ears pierced.  You would have thought I had committed a mortal sin.  She screamed at me and cried and told me to leave her alone.

Fast forward to the next day after school…..

SG “Little E got her ears pierced yesterday.”
Me “Really?  For her Birthday?”

Little E and SG share the same birthday and are best friends.  Cute, huh??

SG “Uh huh.”
Me “That’s exciting.” No WAY am I going to bring it up after the day before when she bit my head off!
SG “So, I want to get mine pierced.”
Me “Really??  Right now??”
SG ” Yes.  Right now.”

Me maintaining my cool while doing a happy dance right there in the driver’s seat.

SG “All my friends were asking me when I was going to get it done, so I decided to ask you.”
Me “Did you yell at them?”
SG “No.  They don’t bug me.”

And did she chicken out after all that peer pressure only to go to school in defeat with her hair covering her ears??????

Nine years ago today, our foreskins…oops, sorry, wrong speech.

I could wax poetic about the joy of finding out I was pregnant with Sassy Gal.  The day the ex and I got back from the honeymoon and it was like ummmm yup, honeymoon’s over!  I could go on and on about how much I enjoyed the pregnancy experience, especially the 40 + pounds I put on my ass.  I could spend hours reminiscing about labor and how no one told me the epidural would make me paralyzed from the waist down and how I just hoped and prayed I wouldn’t poop on the table.

But, I won’t.

I could show you eight gazillion photos of Sassy Gal, spanning her now nine years of life.  How she didn’t smile one time for the first year of her life.  The amount of drool that came out of her teething mouth so she was completely wet on top and bottom.   I could show you pictures of her sitting, those chubby arms and legs not moving because she refused to crawl or walk until she was 14 months old.  I could show you the guns that I got from hefting her around all the time because of her lack of crawling and walking.

But, I won’t.

I could talk about how she liked to stand in this one certain corner every time she had to poop, and how she was never afraid of any dogs.  I could tell you about when she started school, get her first haircut and every single growth spurt over the past nine years.

But, I won’t.

What I will tell you is that Sassy Gal is 9 today.  She is wise beyond her years.  She has survived things that I never wanted her to have to deal with.  She is beautiful and smart.  She has too many of my personality traits and yet so many that are just hers.  She has friends and family that love her and that she loves.  She has a brother that she loves to hate and hates to love.  When she does smile, it lights up a room and when she laughs you can’t help but laugh with her.

Happy Birthday my Sassy Gal.  Mommy loves you.

My life is a toilet bowl of Poop.  And, no I don’t mean it’s shit.  It’s a toilet bowl of Poop.  First, to refresh your memory of Poop and Brattitude Boy, please read THIS.  Don’t worry, I’ll wait here for you to get done.  I’ll just check my emails or blog hop for a bit….

Oh, hey, didn’t see you come back…you lurkers are great at lurking.  I could hear the commenters from miles away…yes, you know who you are and I love you lots!!

Back to my life being a bowl of poop.  Something about my truck, my kids and the urge to go.  I don’t know what it is.  Here is the poop on the latest poop.

I am driving at 5:55 pm with Sassy Gal and Brattitude Boy to meet the parental units for dinner.  And, yes, the waitress stuck her finger in my dang salad!  But, that is not what this story is about….

So, if you live in Houston, have visited Houston or are familiar with Houston at all, we have traffic.  We have traffic at 2 in the afternoon and at 5:55 pm we have parking lots on the streets of our fair city.  We are sitting in the parking lot, which is otherwise known as a street.  I hear moaning from the back seat.  I turn around.

Sassy Gal is squirming and moving around.  She has a look of sincere agony on her face.

Me “SG, you okay back there?”
SG “Noooooooooo.”
Me “What’s up Chickadee?”
SG “I have to go doo doo.  Really bad.”

The panic sets in which immediately sets off a severe hot flash.  I feel the sweat rolling down my back.  I look around wildly.  Cars to the left, cars to the right, cars in front, cars in back.  RED FRIGGIN LIGHTS EVERYWHERE!  THERE IS NO ESCAPE!

I take a deep breath.
Me “Squeeze the cheeks love.  Can you do that?”
SG ” I am, but I think I might poop in my pants!”
Me “Honey, we are stuck here in traffic.  I can’t do anything to help you.  You have to just hold it in.  Can you hold it?”
SG “I’m trying!”  She is now seriously squirming and moaning and groaning.  She is about to cry.
Me “Do you want me to turn the music off.  Will that help you concentrate?”
SG nods and scrunches up her face in concentration.

The light turns green.  Our lane doesn’t move.  MOVE MOVE MOVE I am thinking.  I see a car 5 ahead of us who wants to turn left and is in the wrong damn lane!!  The left turn light is red.  Mine is green.  I can’t get around the other cars because of the traffic.

SG “Go around, Mommy!”
Me in full panic “SG, I can’t.  This moron up there wants to turn and he is in the wrong lane.  DAMMIT MAN DON’T YOU KNOW I HAVE A CHILD THAT NEEDS TO POO!  I can’t get over!!  There are cars coming non stop!!  Just HANG ON!  I’ll get you there.  But, there is no place to pull over.  You kids pick THE worst times to have to poo.  Don’t you know how nervous this makes Mommy??”
SG “Okay, I’m okay.  Just hurry!!  I don’t want to poo in the car.”
Me “I don’t want you to poo in the car either!!”

FINALLY, the light turns for the left turn lane and moron gets over.  The car in front of me is going so slow!  He can speed up some and ride the bumper of the dude in front of him, but NO, he is putzing around as if he doesn’t know there is a true emergency behind him!!

Me “Okay, SG….we made this light…here comes another…it’s green….we made it!!  Almost there.  Keep it clenched!  OH SHIT!  DUDE!  YOU COULD HAVE GONE THROUGH THE YELLOW AND THEN I WOULD HAVE GONE!  WHY DID YOU HAVE TO STOP!?!?”

Moaning and groaning and clenching and concentrating from SG.

Me “SG, do you see the sign up there.  There is the restaurant.  Almost there.  I will pull up to the front and you RUN in and go.  I’ll park and BB and  I will meet you right inside.  Okay??  You got it??  This is the plan, can you make it??”
SG “I think I can make it.  But hurry.”

I see green…I see the sign…I turn in in front of tons of cars coming my way.  They are honking and giving me the finger.

Me ” Sorry. Sorry.”  Waving at them “This is an emergency people!!  Poo about to explode!!  I am in a Land Rover for a reason!!  Go on and TRY to take me out! “

We make it.  She runs inside.  I park the car.  The poo crisis was averted.  The moral…none, other than I am always polite, even in the midst of a car poo.

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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