Listen To Your Mother Auditions!!!

Yeah, I'm gonna need all you Northwest Arkansas Mommas (and Papas) to represent in this Listen to Your Mother production. I, myself, can't participate. I'm public speaking impaired. The deadline for auditions (Simmer down. It's just an essay) is February 29th so get off your asses and write some shit down. I promise I'll go watch you. I might even take my top off and throw it off the stage. And if I'm too lazy to do that (which is the more likely scenario) then I'll just throw chocolate at you. DO IT!

Love,
Alice

Like Water For Madonna

Riddle me this...why is it that on the weekends when I'm completely kidless there is absofuckinglutely nothing that interests me on tv but the second I get them back all of a sudden there's a shitload to watch? Honestly, I didn't expect my children to watch all of the Superbowl with me. I'm not completely delusional. I tortured them for 30 minutes of it...well, really I was the one being tortured because they were so not interested they were all but back flipping naked off the couch to distract me. I switched it on over to SpongeBob fully intending on slipping away at halftime to try and get a glimpse of Madonna. "Slipping away" is a total joke. If the 3 year old could figure out how to duct tape himself to my ass he would. The second I leave his sight he bolts frantically from the room in search of my whereabouts. Why I thought tonight would be any different is beyond me. So I sneaked into the big boy's room for a quick looky loo at the half time show. The instant I sat down the 3 year old was on top of me screaming for water.

3 year old: Mommy gimme water!

Me: OK sweetie, just wait 5 min...

3 year old: MOMMY GI-MME WATER!

Me: I'd love to, I swear to God! Just let me watch this. It won't last long.

3 year old: NOW!

11 year old: Can I have the remote? This is awful music.

Me: NO, 11 year old! 3 year old, hold on, sweetie. I love you! Just give me this one thing. It's all I'm asking!

3 year old now literally on top of my head: I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE I WANT WATER GET UP!

11 year old: This is MY room. I shouldn't have to be subject to this kind of torture in MY room!

6 year old screaming from down the hall: Mom, the 8 year old has my brush! GET IT FROM HIM! HURRY! LIFE AND DEATH, MOM! IF YOU DON'T COME RIGHT THIS SECOND YOU DON'T LOVE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me frantically trying to peek through all the arms and legs: I'M BEGGING YOU GUYS! PLEASE! I'LL GET YOU 12 GALLONS OF WATER IN 2 MINUTES! I'LL BEAT YOUR BROTHER IN A SECOND AND GET YOUR BRUSH BACK! PLEASE!

................and that concludes Madonna's spectacular half time show. Ah, blow.

So then, like a fucking 2 year old I stomped into the bathroom and gave him his water all huffy and ridiculous. Just as I'm at the climax of my Mommy tantrum the 8 year old ran into the bathroom with my phone all ecstatic that he figured out how to take photos and said "Hey, Mom! Smile!". Of course, in true split personality form I immediately flashed a big smile. He handed me the camera and I melted into the floor as I looked at my 3 year old's giant grin in the picture.

Oh, poor me. Alone all weekend. Sleeping in. Laying on my ass and doing whatever I want. Eating Symphony Bars willy nilly. Then these children invade my life and bother me with their demands and unconditional love and adoration. Jesus, WHY ME! I swear, sometimes I marvel at how absurd my brain is. Who gives a fuck about Madonna. No question mark because that's totally rhetorical. Yes, my children do need to respect things that are important to me but watching Madonna sing in THE most boring outfit ever worn on television truly does NOT fall under the category of "things that are important to me".

I am not afraid to out my bad Mommy moments. Super flawed as I am, I know I'm a good Momma. BUT I am not super human. I'm still selfish as all hell. The difference is my ability to recognize when I'm being a dumb ass. And I was.

Fly That Morbid Freak Flag, Boy!

My boy does pottery and poetry. Yeah, I'm not worried about this one.

My 11 year old jumped in the car after school yesterday brimming with pride. He wrote a poem. And here it goes...

Shadow Girl
Her grave lies beneath the tree
of sadness and despair.
But the strange thing about this story
is that she's never there.


Her eyes are fired with anger,
her mouth is filled with blood.
Her heart is empty from the loss of
her parents in the Great Flood.


She reveals herself at dusk
and rids herself at dawn.
Although she seems to make her
visit infinitely long.


You will all soon believe in her
soon after you have ate.
She will sneak up on you
and before you notice... it's too late.

As you can imagine I cried heavy love tears when I read this. The boy's got my lovely dark sense of humor. We're THIS CLOSE to being able to watch horror movies together. This almost makes up for the fact that I will never have a daughter to wear matching outfits with.

Yearning to share in my pride I showed my Mother his poem. Yeah, she wasn't as impressed. After making a couple of horrified faces she said "maybe you should show him some real poetry". FLASHBACK: I was in the 4th grade filling legal pad after legal pad with what I thought was genius poetry. My Mother took a gander at one of my favorites. It didn't go over well. I believe one of the lines was "death to all lawyers by feather and tar". I was crushed that she wasn't as in love with it as I was. Sure my Father was a lawyer but what does that have to do with my poetry? I don't get it. It's a mystery to this day.

Anyway, my boy's teacher let him bring it home but she wants him to bring it back to school Monday so she can make copies of it. Hopefully not for DHS. Hey, I support my boys and their freak flags. If they want to write morbid poetry it's gonna get framed and mounted on the wall. Word.

Potty Humor

Yep, do dumb shit and you're gonna get your picture made.

This is what I don't understand- what IN THE NAME OF GOD is the deal with my children and bathrooms? When they get sick they are super pathetic but do they take preventative actions so they don't get sick? Oh HELL no. I honestly do not remember wanting to spend a whole lot of time in the bathroom when I was little.  My boys treat the bathroom like it's fucking Disney World. Here are my rules for the potty room....the rules I created based on personal experience because my children have absolutely NO common sense, which I suppose is somehow my fault but whatever...

1. Never eat a waffle while going poop. In fact, how about we just not even take the fucking waffle into the bathroom. That would be super. My 8 year old once asked me to serve him fried chicken whilst he did his business. Yeaaaaaaah, no.

2. When we go into a public restroom and I say in my bestest preschool teacher voice "Ok boys, pretend you're glued to the wall and let's play the quiet game" that does not mean "Boys, I now want you to scream as loud as you possibly can and somehow end up touching the toilet seat". How does this happen? I can kind of understand the screaming thing because I sometimes find it hard not to belt out a good Adele tune in the echo-friendly bathroom but the inching (and sometimes full throttle running) toward the toilet????? IT NEEDS TO END!

3. This one is a life lesson for us all......training potties are generally smaller coming off of your head than going on. Probably best just to not put them over your head at all.

4. Please do not come into Mommy's bathroom, pilfer through her drawers, pull out tiny fingernail scissors and say "Mommy, can I give you a haircut?". You're giving me nightmares here, pal.

5. Now this one is super important, K? Listen carefully. Are you ready? Please......don't.....put legos....in the toilet......AFTER YOU POOP! I know. I'm blowing your mind. It's a crazy ass rule but hey, I'm a crazy ass Mom. Oh and also if you wouldn't mind please do not poop in a toilet your Brother just pooped and put a lego in while I am frantically searching for something with which to retrieve said poopy lego. Seriously, you guys are killing me.

I'm sure I'm leaving out millions more rules but I don't have time to write them as I now must go clean toothpaste off of the ceiling. How? Not sure. But I AM sure there will be 1-4 small children rallied around me dunking toy boats in the toilet, eating a 4 course meal, using maxi pads as weapons or bedazzling a training potty. Guess what, though? I can say all this with a smile because I NO LONGER HAVE TO CHANGE DIAPERS!!!!! Ha! Heeheehahahaheehee...oh yeah, oh fuck yeah!

A Handful of Moments

One of the suckiest things about being a single Mom of four semi-demanding "if you don't pay attention to me right this second then I'm going to assume you hate me and love the others more" children is not being able to give them 100% of my attention when they need me. The second one of them needs me you can bet your ass there are at least two others that need me, too. They all start talking/screaming at me at the same time and I'm overwhelmed with anger because I want to give them what they need. It pisses me off but it's physically impossible to please everyone therefore there is always someone who feels neglected.

To make matters worse, I still don't have a job. I'm subbing a lot and doing the best I can but it's stressful as all hell. The one saving grace about being a subbing Momma is I have the flexibility to volunteer in their classrooms. Last week I showed up in my 8 year old's class to help stuff folders. I had no idea this was going to be such a big deal. When I walked in the classroom my boy lit up with pride. I felt like a rock star. All the kids kept coming up to me asking me whose Mom I was. The rest of the day I must have received dozens of hugs from my 8 year old. And his little chunky butt can give out some scrumptious hugs. Damn, I wish I had done this sooner! That would be my Proud Momma Moment #1.

Momma Gets An A Moment #2: I'm always looking for sub jobs and when my 5th grader's class was needing a sub I nabbed it up without a second thought. The icing on the cake was the fact that it was on his birthday. I realize that subbing in my shy, often humiliated by everything 11 year old's class on his birthday could have seriously backfired on me...but it DIDN'T, so HA! I made a vow to myself not to be as hard assed as I usually am. As a sub I always have to be "on" because the kids treat me like a sub. It's hard a shit! But I couldn't do that to my big boy. Not only did I win them over but I handed out chocolate bars at the end of the day. That's right....full. size. chocolate. motherfuckin. bars. Oh yeah. They loved me. I even heard a little girl say "she's cool for a Mom". THANK YOU! My big boy told me it was the best birthday ever. Sweet Jesus, yes!

Momma Loves You Moment #3: My baby boy (the 3 year old) was home sick and I have a rule that when one is sick one needs donuts and chocolate milk. So, we went to our favorite donut shop and settled down in a booth with WAY too many donuts (as usual). We started playing a color game (my boy's smart but the color identification thing needs a lil work). After we identified the color of the donut baskets I praised him up and down to which he replied "I love you, Momma". Damn, if he has asked me to buy him 50 more donuts after that I woulda. There's no better feeling than when one of my boys does that pause thing and then tells me they love me. It's like they're really appreciating the moment. Or it's gas.

Now when it comes to my 6 year old...well, these moments aren't as cut and dry. One second I'm the "best Mom in the world" and the next second I'm the "worst" (yep, his words). The moments that make my day when it comes to him are when he "gets it". When the light bulb goes off and he truly understands me and I truly understand him...that's my miracle of the day. Tonight he wanted some chocolate. I was just about to hand it over when he stopped me and said "Wait. I'll do you a solid since you did me a solid. You wanted me to eat the pizza so how bout I eat the pizza and then you give me the chocolate?". OK, to you people this might sounds ridiculous but I don't think I've smiled that big in weeks. There wasn't a tantrum. There wasn't any kicking or scratching or screaming. It was bliss. Plain and simple. I think the "THANK YOU" I shouted in my head was so loud I almost popped an ear drum.

You know that shit parents say about needing those handful of moments that make it all worth it? They ain't lyin'. These moments...plus the Zoloft...keep me coming back for more. I want to make them proud. I want them to see me for who I am. I want them to "get me". I want them to pause and think about how they love me. Most importantly I never want them to doubt that I will always be here to snuggle on demand and help them make guitars out of water bottles and offer up my copy of The Hobbit from when I was a kid and try my damnedest to get Obi-Wan Kenobi from the LEGOS Star Wars video game to jump up on the ledge so he can use the force to lower the bridge (even though we all know there's no way in hell I can actually do this NO MATTER HOW FUCKING HARD I TRY.....stupid video games). I love my boys and they love their Momma.

sidenote: I'm beyond disappointed in the interwebs. Not one single youtube video on how to make a milk jug guitar????? You let me down, google.

Deactivate My Ass Right Back To The Real World

So, I've been off Facebook for a week and I gotta say I feel pretty damn good about it. I deactivated my account so I could force myself to get my ass up and do some laundry. Oddly, I never had the urge to hop back on there.

What I miss about Facebook:
1. Pictures of fat squishy babies eating cake that are so fucking cute they make my my boobs lactate.
2. .....yeah, that's about it.

What I don't miss about Facebook:
1. Creepers-Hey dirtbag assholes, lay off the God Damn married ladies and taken men!

2. Creeping- there's nothing more disturbing than finding yourself browsing a strangers photos and thinking "Aw! Look how sweet her baby is and WOW her kids have gotten so big and I wonder what park they're at in this pic and HOLY FUCK I'M A STALKER!"....gross.

3. False Advertising-do ya REALLY think I look like that in real life? Really? Suckah!

4. Low self-esteemers, need not apply- When I find myself up at night wondering why no one found my status about Shasta orange soda to be worthy of neither a "like" nor a comment.....I gots the problems.

5. TIMESUCK- My ass hurts. Time to go outside.

6. BRAINSUCK- I know I blame my kids but I honestly think being on Facebook has decreased my IQ...and it wasn't that impressive to begin with.

7. Mister Jealousy Devil- BITCH, STOP WRITING ON MY BOYFRIEND'S WALL ABOUT GETTING BRUNCH!....oh yeah, we ALL know what "brunch" means, ya dirty ho. Uh huh. Yep. Aaaaaaand I'm pathetic.

8. Pedestals- For some reason people take that false advertising way too seriously and actually think that someone's Facebook profile IS who they are. Then their hearts break when they discover that there is no such thing as a completely honest Facebook profile. "OMG, you have 4 boys and you're divorced and you're trying to find a teaching job and you're sometimes funny.....I LOVE YOU SOOOOO MUCH! You're like the BEST most fucking fantastic amazing human being I've ever known!......Hold up.....dude, you never take your kids to the library. Oh......never mind."

9. Soapboxes- Here's the deal...I actually love reading all that shit because I'm dumb as fuck and I need all these rantings to teach me about what the hell's going on in the world. However, when you post shit after shit after shit after shit AND THEN you post a picture of a man in Afgahnistan or wherever stepping on a baby girl in hopes of choking her to death....you can FUCK. OFF. God DAMN, I'm still having nightmares about that one.

10. People who take Facebook so fucking seriously. That one really doesn't need explaining, now does it?

Yeah, the sad thing is I'll probably be back on in an hour when I'm drunk:/. Fucking Facebook.

Parenting Policy #287- You Wake Em, You Take Em

My relationship with sleep has morphed a couple of times throughout my life. As an adult I can't get enough of it. All I think about its curling up with my big white blanky and passing out. But when I was little I never wanted to sleep. My parents always talk about how they'd put me down for a nap and find me up and about doing God knows what while everyone else was going about their business. I have two theories as to why this occurred.

(This is my first born sleeping the day away. He's almost 11 now. Just kills me.)

1. I was scared shitless to close my eyes. My childhood home was (and still is) terrifying. It's dark, cold, in the middle of nowhere and creepola sounds abound round the clock. I remember sleeping with the lights on and the covers completely encompassing my head (so Dracula couldn't get at my neck, of course). I dreaded night.
2. MY PARENTS ARE LOUD AS HELL! My Father has always been hard of hearing so his tv only has one volume- as high as it will go. My Mother always managed to put the dishes away at naptime or at bedtime. Clanking dishes and silverware aren't soothing, I don't care who you are.

Fast forward to now- I have yet to find a job and seeing as no one wants to give me a house and pay all my utilities my children and I are currently living with my parents. I love my parents and I am BEYOND grateful to them for taking us in with open arms. Now that I'm an adult I actually appreciate their creepy old house. I adore the fact that it isn't all new and granite counter topped out. That's not my style. Old is good;). Having said all that this really isn't a super happy time for me. I like being independent. It felt unbelievably good to have a place of my own, pay all the bills myself, leave shit everywhere if I wanted, on a whim bake a pie and NOT clean up for a day...

One of the biggest drawbacks of moving home??? Noise during naptime. I really don't see or hear my parents much. They stay in their rooms for the most part. But for some crazy reason when it's time for my 3 year old to take a nap it's a fucking Mardi Gras up in here. My Dad is shuffling back and forth and my Mom is talking on the phone loud as all get out or cooking with really large metal pots. The worst part is, I CAN'T SAY A DAMN THING! I know they would quiet down if I said something but this is THEIR house. I'm not about to tell someone what they can and can't do in their own home.

As I type this the 3 year old is in bed and all is quiet, thank GOD. I need my children to sleep. I mean.....I.NEED.MY.CHILDREN.TO.SLEEEEEEEEP. There's no messing around with sleep when it comes to kids. I will stop breathing if it means my child will sleep longer. I will stand in a corner and not fucking move for 3 hours if it brings me 3 hours of quiet. I love to sleep more than I love chocolate but I will gladly give up my sleep to my children because when they don't get their sleep....well, that's just not something I want to think about. Not now, anyway. Not when I'm getting MY quiet time. White blanky time!