Post Game Analysis: Week Four

Unpacking.

Still.

Sucking the life out of me.

We have set up the bedrooms, but Ms. Sydney has an issue with... sharing. Four year olds: apparently VERY picky. And competitive. And jealous of other people their same age, or gender.

Sydney wants her pictures and things where she wants HER things. she has no concept of "Gabby will want to hang pictures, too."

Also, the defensiveness for our OWN kids has set in. Endless discussions about parenting, how to parent best, talking in endless euphemisms, endless attempts at making room for the other person and their processes.

Others are learning of our cohabitation and are less enthusiastic. I have heard "Oh, like the Brady Bunch" more times than I can count. People think we're: a) crazy; b) selfish; c) misguided; d) overly hopeful; or e) all of the above.

I just keep wishing for moments of normalcy. And then I remember, in a blended family, EVERYTHING is normalcy.

Home Sweet Almost Home

Unpacking. It is the bane of my moving existence.

I don't mind throwing it all together into boxes, the cleaning, the driving of the truck. I dislike the lifting and moving of said boxes, and the placement thereof into a moving van. But unpacking-- moving the boxes to a particular area, and then opening the box, removing items, finding homes for everything within... Just thinking about the whole process exhausts me.

Last night we got down to about 4 or 5 boxes. With correct positioning and a large enough table cloth, my troubles would be over. Alas, I will open the beastly things and find places for all the myriad crap stashed in them. One small step for my lazy ass, one giant leap toward a cohesive, organized household.

Tonight we have grand plans of finishing this unpacking, to be followed by one of my favorite-ist things ever: DECORATING for the Halloween party. Can't wait!

Office Sanctuary: Hiphopopotamus vs. Rhymenoceros

Today is Tuesday but it feels like Monday, since I was out on Monday. I offer this cheerful sanctuary from work. Or home, for that matter. Whatever. ENJOY!

Post Game Analysis: Week Three.

Reality has sunk in.

The apparent kid perspective: These people are not going to leave, but instead-- like fish or friends who have overstayed their welcome-- they got old after 3 days. GAAAWD! We're STUCK with these people for time to come (whoever "these people" may be at any given moment).

My children are sarcastic and loud.

His kids don't understand sarcasm and are sound sensitive.

My kids are hilarious.

His kids are pretty dang funny, as well.

All the children are bossy. Or kind. Or lazy. Or creative. Or rebellious. Or mindful.

OHMYGAWD these children are ALL INDIVIDUALS!!!! Who knew they came in so many different flavors?

AT ANY GIVEN MOMENT: These two get along really well until this one comes in, then no one gets along. Then suddenly this one and those two are total buddies until that other comes by, then the first two are not getting along AT ALL, the last two aren't getting along AT ALL, but somehow teams have formed and everyone is actually, somehow, getting along. Sassiness. Giddiness. Grumpiness. Bossiness. Tears. Laughter. Jokiness.

Silence? Never.

The moral of the week: Everyone is fine. At least until everyone is not fine.

Secret winning move

I will never lose again. You can also buy the shirt.

My brain hurts.

I realize I haven't written in awhile, and the first thing I mention -- AFTER the brain eating amoeba -- is how my brain hurts.

It's true. It really kind of does.

The weekend was nice; it was long yet simultaneously too short. It is possible.

Long on whiners and complainers. Long on people feeling like victims and martyrs. Short on time and short on getting organized.

I understand the "poor me" concept, and I have tried for a really, really long time not to be a "poor me" person. Oh don't get me wrong-- I complain really, really well, I just try to not do so in the "poor me" way. Mostly in a "good mother of GAWD, son-of-a-" kind of way.

That's why I have such a hard time with phrases like "WHY ME?" They stick in my craw and I obsess on how that blather rather bothers. Thus, I've decided -- instead of ruminating on my frustrations -- to just aire what I wanted to say when I had the chance and instead let it all fester inside my cluttered brain. Hence, I shall stop feeding the amoeba, and vent herein.

____________

1) "Why me?" Because it was your turn. On the bright side, eventually it becomes someone else's turn, and then won't it be fun to gloat over their misery?

2)"Yeah but why do I have to (do that)?" So I can gloat over your misery. (Re-visit number one.)

3) "I don't like any of this stuff (food)." Yeah, but if I don't make it, I don't get to hear you say that in your annoyed, grunty voice. And bonus: It makes your eyes go all wide with exasperation.

4) "NOOOO!!!!I don't wanna take a nap!!!" Okay. The alternative is me breaking your arm off and beating you with it. Toooootally up to you.

5)"*grunt*...*groan*...*scoff*... *pfft*" This is not English. This is more like constipation.

6) "Mom, (he's) following me." Very good, Mr. Observant. How about some other insights for me, like, "The sky is blue," you know, or, "You're being MEAN."

7) "What about ME?" Excellent question. And since you're so busy thinking about you, looks like you've got you covered.

Ahhhhhh..... I feel better now.

Post Game Analysis: Week Two

Partner in Crime's kids were at their mom's house this week, which means my crew was flying "solo" (so to speak) in the gargantuan house. Halo 3 reigned supreme.

The house is covered in boxes still, which means the exhaustion is ever-present. I have begun to tire of pre-made dinners, and the confusion over which closet or cabinet I want to store the towels/sheets/phone book in.

Sydney is having a reeeeally difficult time with the fact that her room is still not unpacked, and she asks about her things almost constantly.

The good news is, we still have a couple weekends until the Halloween party, which should be a snap.

Rrriiighht.

Seriously.

This is no joke, my friend. It is so serious, a local television news station CREATED A GRAPHIC FOR IT, with an actual approximation of a human brain. I tell you what, my internal paranoia meter just went off the charts.

How big does the amoeba get post-feast? How long before someone appears on House getting one removed?

(SIDE NOTE: Google search results on "house" list the show first, and the United States House of Representatives, 110th Congress, 1st Session, second.

Notes from the day

Momologue is building an ad for a funeral home. The funeral home wants to use a picture of wheat stalks.

[14:59] Momologue: what is with wheat and death?
[15:00] girlmonkey: celiac disease
[15:00] Momologue: huh?
[15:00] Momologue: sorry i mean wheat and funerals
[15:00] girlmonkey: my answer is the same
[15:02] Momologue: Sunday 5. On the fifth Sunday we commemorated Christ's death. This time the symbol was drawn from Jesus' parable of the stalk of wheat whose grains must be placed in the ground and decay before they can bring forth an abundant harvest. John 12:24 states, "Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds." Christ is that grain of wheat. However, we also, through the Imitatio Christi, are like grains of wheat that must die to ourselves before the rich harvest of the kingdom of God can take place in our lives.
[15:02] Momologue: there, found the reference
[15:03] Momologue: i was thinking if you were gonna push something up, daisies was more appropriate

Post Game Analysis: Week One

A giddy insanity envelopes the entire family. It's like this intense sugar high: Everyone is happy, everyone is communicating well, everyone is extending themselves beyond their comfort zones, EVERYONE is truly attempting to get along.

The house is a universal hit. A house that felt insanely large to my single mother of three eyes is actually *just big enough* for our GIGANTIC family of eight. We quickly came to the realization that the kids LOVE space, and the freedom of movement. We love the roominess and the ability to hide, even if it is just to fornicate in our AMAZING WALK-IN CLOSET!

Watching the kids also helps us see that certain kids have very serious spacial needs. Over the course of the week sharing gets more difficult, and "tantrums" in older children actually occur as a result of too much noise or crowing.

This causes us to question our foray into cohousing, a space almost half the size. We decide by the end of the week that we really cannot exist in a smaller place.

Cohousing was MY idea, so why do I feel relieved?

The kids love that we have two big televisions, both of which make me feel sickeningly decadent and snobbishly superior (is that possible?). Further, they love that we got an Xbox 360. Of course we didn't want it for ourselves; we merely purchased it as a move-in gift to buy the kids love and affection. That's not all that bad. Right?

Murderer in the Woods Part 2

The kids made this amazing horror film in Tahoe last weekend. Here is part 2-- the scarier half. ENJOY!

Empty Spleen: All Vented.

Sore arms, sore legs, sore arse-- I have bruises on top of my bruises from moving in. Add varicose veins, two missing toenails and cellulite and you got yourself some pretty nice gams.

We are not all moved in. We have days and days ahead of us-- more to move, so much more to do before we can even attempt to call ourselves "settled."

We love the house. We love how comfortable we are, how much room we have and the luxury of having storage space. I cannot, for the life of me, even think about moving again next year. I am so not ready to contemplate that notion.

So when I got a call from the woman representing the "OHMYGAWD SIX KIDS" landlord, saying that they *might* be interested in renting to us now-- you know, in this tight renter's market with virtually NO ONE knocking on her door-- I put on my pleasant voice, and let it rip.

"Thank you so much for thinking of us, but we've already found another place. And I wanted to let you be aware, if you could perhaps mention this to (the landlord) I would really appreciate it. I know she had some real reservations about renting to us because of the size of our family. It's such a beautiful house and she was so nice, but I came away with some concern about some of the things she said in our conversation. Particularly, because we have six kids, she wanted to double our security deposit. She also mentioned inspecting our homes prior to accepting our application. I don't think she is aware that requesting these things breaks the anti-discrimination and fair housing laws in the State of California. She is really a nice woman and I would hate for someone to take her remarks in the extreme or out of context."

Let's face it: her comments WERE extreme and there IS no other context. I just needed to politely register my incredulity with someone who would speak to her and let her know how effing inappropriate (and, oh-- ILLEGAL) it is to NOT rent to someone solely based on their family size.

Ahhh, I feel better.

dove onslaught

This video breaks my heart.