Daddy! We Got A New Pet!

We have no pets. None. Greg won't even entertain the idea of a pet after my cat urinated all over our house after we had the babies and we eventually gave her to our neighbors. He won't even talk about a dog.

He absolutely wants NOTHING to do with animals. It's weird, too, because he always had a dog growing up. I don't even get it.



Meet our new peacock.



His name is Peter. Peter Peacock, but you can call him Pete.

After extensive Googling and a call to my neighbor, Jo, I am feeling pretty confident that this a peacock and not a peahen. He doesn't have his big feathers, but he is either too young to have grown them, or they've molted because mating season is over.



He's made a stoop on our front porch, and he isn't budging. He lets the kids pet him and surround him.



He even watches TV with them.



When he isn't on his stoop, he's shitting some of the most disgusting piles of liquid feces you have ever seen IN YOUR LIFE. All over my FRONT PORCH. Holy mother of God, how that much stuff could come out of an animal is beyond me.

Could he have diarrhea?

The kids have fed him almost non-stop. Bread, corn chips, rice chex, sunflower seeds. If we kept him, he would need gastric bypass surgery.

He was sooooooo thirsty. I don't know if he was left in a foreclosure backyard, or if he flew over the wall of someone's house, but he is completely tame. I was emailing with my girlfriends yesterday and my friend Leslie said, "What you do you mean what are you going to do with him? Let him roam away. How do you think he got that big? He roamed around and ate stuff."

Leslie lives in a tropical rainforest, where if you got lost, you could just eat your way back to civilization. We get 4 inches of rain a year here. If I run out of gas on the way to Grammy's, I'm dead.

I figured I was dead when Greg got home anyway. Or Peter would be dead. Greg is a Republican and he owns guns. The only bird Greg wants to see is the dead one on his dinner plate.

SURPRISE DADDY!


"What in the hell is that? Is that a PEACOCK?"

"They eat roaches and bugs.", I said in attempt to gain a stay of execution.



I am going to put signs up in the neighborhood today and see if he is lost.

FOUND: PEACOCK. ANSWERS TO PETER.

I am writing this post before I go to bed and scheduling it to publish in the morning. People keep telling me that peacocks make a loud screeching noise in the middle of the night.



Peter is in our pine tree, right next to the master bedroom.

Sarah and Gregory were BAWLING at bedtime because they were afraid Peter might be gone in the morning.

Oh, Peter might be gone all right.

This was NOT on my list of things that need to be done.

I Am A Kindergarten Drop-out

My friend Misti has triplets who started kindergarten this year too. We've been hanging out for the last four years.

She told me last week that she had started using the Flylady to get more organized.

And I seriously almost blacked out, because Misti IS the Flylady. The first time I took my kids to her house for a playdate, I came home and committed suicide.

I can just remember walking in and not seeing a SINGLE THING sitting on her countertops. And everything was so organized, and there was NO clutter, and she had a dry erase board where she planned out her meals.

And I was crippled by it.

She HANGS all her clothes. I hang clothes under severe duress. If she saw the kids' drawers right now, I'm sure she would never talk to me again.

She is like my personal assistant too. She RSVPs for me when we have to go somewhere. She whips out her iPhone and she just does stuff.

When she sold me her van, you could eat off the floors. I have literally parked on the other side of the parking lot so Misti couldn't see inside my van.

She emailed me on Sunday and asked me if I noticed that I still have Austin listed as being 3 years old in my Blogger profile? Uh, no. I hadn't. My friend Leslie emails me when I spell things incorrectly. What can I say? I like overachievers.

So when I was talking to Misti last week, she was telling me how she practically never leaves school when her kids are in kindergarten for 2.5 hours. She works the whole time at the school. She is already the treasurer of the PTA. She is also the treasurer of our multiple's club. She was telling me last week how she brought her own paper cutter to school to work.

And I swear to you, she isn't even OCD. She is just like this freakish workhorse.

So I started freaking out. Why am I not volunteering? What is WRONG WITH ME? I am SUCH A SLACKER.

And I have to tell you, although I haven't complained, that much, Greg is not pulling his weight around the house AT ALL. He hasn't even been here. He is working 12 and 14 hour days trying to get that house done. He is so out of touch with me and what we are doing here, that he actually came home last week in the afternoon to get something, and bellowed at me, "WHERE IS AUSTIN?"

I was doing dinner prep and just looked at him.

"He's in SCHOOL. HE GOES TO SCHOOL TWICE A WEEK ON TUESDAYS AND THURSDAYS."

I bet you guys know that.

So I have been doing everything at home. EVERYTHING. I know it's short term. So I'm okay with that, but I am just illustrating how busy I have been. Busy. I've been busy. REALLY BUSY.
But that didn't stop me from approaching the teacher on Friday and making sure she knew that I could help her. Because Misti runs a business and has a clean house and car and she is working every single day and WHAT IS MY PROBLEM?

So the teacher asked me if I could prepare all the poetry folders for AM and PM class.

Sure. What's another 33? And I know this doesn't look like much, but there were two more plastic containers of folders.

So I get to school yesterday and she brings out the folders, and then she started talking, but the kids were saying, "What are you doing, Mom? What is that, Mom?" and the other parents were looking at me, like SHOWBOAT. So I couldn't focus.

When she was talking, it sort of sounded like this, "Mwa mwa mwa mwa mwa mwa."

Then I hauled all the stuff to my car, and Austin and I zoomed over to the grocery store.

All I could think when I was driving was that it smelled like something died in my car. It's rotten. It smells like my Nissan Pulsar did when I was eighteen. Do you guys who know me remember that car? My mom wouldn't even get in it.

Although I can't exactly pinpoint when that car started stinking, it may have happened when I lied to my mom and drove to Mexico with my three girlfriends, and got pulled over driving drunk on the wrong side of the road by the Federales, then someone vomited Coronas all over the passenger side floor.

I've been pulled over twice by Federales. Once in Puerto Penasco.

And once in Cozumel for driving a moped without a helmet when I was 23, and talked my sister into going on a cruise with me before she got married, in my last ditch effort to keep her from marrying a child molester --- a man 11 years older than her. They're still married 16 years later, only now he is no longer a child molester and just a dirty old man. Don't deny it Chuck.

I still have that bikini. I swear to you. I wear a swim dress now. A swim dress. A SWIM DRESS.

So I'm driving to the store, and I am thinking about smelly cars and why my sister and I haven't been on another cruise in almost 20 years, when the car in front of me slammed on his brakes and all the folders, which were in alphabetical order, go flying all over the back of my van.

They were just a giant jumbled mess of papers and folders.

So I got them in the house, and got them all organized, Johina, Jonina, Jobina, are these all the same names?, and my job was to put two new papers in each folder, and then use reinforcements to fix the pages that the five year olds had torn out.

It's a good thing I don't work IN the class, because I would be forced to whack some knuckles for tearing out those sheets.

"Oh, did you tear that one again?"

WHACK!

I could have been a nun, if not for the nakedness and sex and alcohol of my youth.

Then I kept wondering, was I supposed to put those pages in the FRONT or in the BACK?

I looked and looked and pondered. I called my sister. Then I figured I had a 50/50 chance, so I threw it all on red, and put them in the front.

I got them done just in time to go get the kids.

I hauled them all out of the car, across the street, through the parking lot, and across the grass. Nobody talked to me or offered to help.

Then when Mrs. P came out, I said, "Did you want those papers in the front?"

All the parents were looking.

"No. In the back. Didn't I tell you that?"

"That's okay. I'll do them over. I'm sure you said it and I didn't hear you."

My friend Misti wasn't here to help me.

I've got nothing better to do, really. Except fold laundry and cook food and FIND OUT WHAT DIED IN MY CAR.

I've failed kindergarten. Do you know what this means? I am not even employable anymore. My brain cannot even follow simple instructions anymore.

Then I hauled them all back, and out of the car, and back in the house, and stacked them on the counter, feeling like a complete dunce, when Gregory came out of nowhere and said, "You are such a good Mommy for helping Mrs. P."

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. He just melted my heart.

Little did he know, I was plotting a trip to Mexico with my sister only a moment earlier. Where is my bikini?

The Renovation

Greg is FINALLY done, I think, on the foreclosure we bought back in May. The work on that house ended up being way more than he anticipated. But I am so excited to show you how it turned out.

If you recall, the owners of the house completely destroyed it, ripping out the entire kitchen, the bathrooms, the windows, and even cut all the electrical wires going into the circuit box before giving it back to the bank.

Here was the kitchen.

The kids were over with Greg quite a bit during the whole renovation process.

The boys would help Greg for hours, handing him tools or watching him.

Here is how the kitchen turned out.



This is the living room.



This is what the backyard looked like when we got it.



Greg had to dig out and then haul out tons of dirt.



Build a retaining wall.

Then paint that God awful wall. Those people must have been color blind.



He spent the whole weekend doing the irrigation and shoveling rock.



Here is the tour.



Now it is ready to either sell or rent. We had people coming by and looking at it all weekend. Greg liked the first couple that came by. They've rented the same house for five years, and the only reason they are moving is because the owner is letting it go back to the bank and they were served an eviction notice from the lender.

She told Greg he could come by and see their current house anytime. I think I am going to run by her house and bring her an application today and see what kind of credit they have.

They don't have kids, but they have a dog. A little Shih-tzu.

Greg yelled at me for not putting NO PETS in the ad. But NO PETS and NO SMOKING? Let's get serious here. Why do people rent homes instead of apartments? Uh, cuz they have PETS. Duh.

"Great. That's great. A Shitpoop in my house."

I'm really not sure what Greg will do if renters destroy his house. He did ALL the labor himself. I am afraid. Very afraid.

But that's not going to happen to us. RIGHT? RIGHT?

What Amanda Does In The Middle Of The Night

Amanda said to me yesterday, "Mommy? Sometimes when you and Daddy are sleeping, I get up and go and eat sugar in the cupboard, get a drink, then come and get in bed with you."

"What? What sugar?"

"The brown sugar in the cupboard."

"If you eat sugar in the middle of the night, Amanda, your teeth will turn brown and fall out."

Then I found her sitting on the bathroom counter brushing her teeth vigorously.

She is something else, that kid.

She has been so lovely and fun to be around though when she is off gluten for a couple days. Here she is with "mousy", her bestfriend these days.



I have to tell you guys that I have seen a big difference in Amanda, too, since she started kindergarten. She is really blossoming.

Mrs. P told me on Friday, " I just LOVE your kids. They are so great."

She also told me that they have all made their own friends and she doesn't think having them in the same class is a big deal for them.

I am so glad Amanda got a teacher that brings out the best in her. I bring out the worst in her.

How unfair is that?

BedBugs, Animal Cruelty, And Vegetables

We loaded up plants yesterday. Plantworld has in all the winter vegetables right now, so we are planting broccoli, cauliflower, brussel sprouts, cabbage, strawberries, and lettuce today.

The kids said hello to their favorite cat.

And talked to all their favorite birds, literally. This plant nursery is a bird sanctuary too.

I bought some Dr. Earth organic fertilizer to hopefully jump start the dead soil in my garden. I have had the best luck gardening when I use Dr. Earth. Greg won't let me compost anymore because the roaches got too interested in that and he threatened to spray gallons of poison all over the backyard, where my children roll around in dirt.

Speaking of pestilence, when I dropped Austin off at preschool on Thursday, I was talking to one of the other mothers about our rental properties, and she confided that she and her husband own all kinds of rentals. Then she started on her rental nightmares.

They own one home now over off of Arville and Twain that they did section 8 (low income government assistance) on, and rented it to a Hispanic family. That was two years ago. Over the past two years, at any given time, she said there is 10 to 12 people living there. She doesn't even know where the original people are. It's never the same people. They cycle through as they come up and cross the border illegally, work, then go back home. They've completely destroyed the inside of the house, and now the house is infested with bedbugs.

Have you guys heard how bedbugs are making a comeback and you can hardly get rid of them once they are in your house, or dorm, or hotel?

So the original renters surfaced and told her that she needed to get rid of them. To which she told them that THEY had brought them with them, they should get rid of them. Finally, she called an exterminator and he went over to look at the problem, then he called her after he had looked in the house and said, "I can't help you."

She told me that the house is probably a complete loss at this point.

As if that story isn't DISGUSTING ENOUGH, my friend Laurie, the one who got us going on buying rentals in the first place, said they had to evict two sisters (siblings, not NUNS) out of one of their rentals.

When they got on the property, they discovered that they had never taken the trash out for 9 MONTHS. They were throwing it on the side of the house where it turned into a semi-solid gel- like of unimaginable putrification. Imagine garbage sitting right through the summer in Phoenix.

Then they had left a puppy tied up next to that with no food and water. Laurie said it was almost dead. So Laurie took it home and has been nursing it back to health. That poor little animal.

Okay, these are the kind of stories that just make me want to put some For Sale signs up, get our money, and RUN back to the bank.

All right, I had to purge those stories from my brain so that I could pretend that will never happen to us.

Enjoy. I'm heading out to my garden.

Wanted: OCD Gay Man

Our single, gay, perfect credit, clean freak renter, who didn't have kids or pets gave us notice that he is moving out.

OMG. Where am I ever going to find another Felix Unger? Can I advertise that way?

Looking for OCD Gay Man who hates kids and animals. No security deposit necessary as long as you also have PERFECT CREDIT and DON'T SMOKE.

Kids are great. God love 'em all. But kids DESTROY STUFF, so having a renter with no kids is just a huge bonus. Throw in the no pets either and it is like a dream come true.

Somebody told me I should go over to Flex, the gay nightclub on Charleston, and see if they have a bulletin board. The kids and I might check that out today.

I was so stressed out yesterday. The other house is ready to be rented also, so I am taking calls and emails on both properties and then Googling, Facebooking, and Myspacing all these FREAKS who want to destroy my property.

Newsflash: If your friends on Myspace have names like SmokinDude or HitlersHeroes, I will not rent you a house. LOSER.

In between all that, I just drive around like some sort of frantic maniac, grocery shopping, dropping kids off, picking kids up. How do people do all this and work too? I don't even get it.

Then my neighbor Andy came over and told me Plantworld has broccoli in. That just sent me into a tailspin because how did it get to be that time already? Then Greg told me he is too busy landscaping the rental house and he is NOT going to help me get the winter garden in this year.

I tilled the whole garden yesterday in my swimsuit with the sprinklers on. Greg hadn't watered the garden since July, and I could actually hold the shovel and jump with all my might with both feet, and I would actually just stand on it, like it was a POGO STICK.

I tried to tell Greg that soil was a living organism and you can't just STOP watering it because it will turn into CEMENT in the desert.

"Yeah. Dirt's alive.", he replied.

Now I can barely walk, because despite going off gluten, I still seem to be anemic and weak, which really isn't working into my schedule.

We did meet one prospective tenant at the second rental house. He called and wanted to know if we could meet him there in 10 minutes? So I told the kids to hurry and get their shoes on and we flew over there.

He is a new associate at the law firm our neighbor works at. I walked in to show him the house and Greg had a cement mixer sitting in the dining room. Greg has been putting in a retaining wall in the backyard.

So while we were showing him the backyard, the kids were walking on the new retaining wall, jumping off, rolling on the ground, then making snow angels in the dirt.

Mr. I Don't Even Get Kids Because I'm Single And A Lawyer looked at the kids and said, "Wow. They just sort of entertain themselves, don't they?", like he was observing a pack of orangutans at the zoo.

I could tell he didn't like the layout of the house, so I said, "Yeah. They do. So if you are going to have one, you may as well have four. I just feed 'em and clean 'em."

Then when we got home, I noticed I had a giant streak of barbecue sauce underneath my left boob. The ONE DAY I didn't have a black shirt on.

I'm totally going to check my boobs before we go into the gay nightclub today.

To Do List Today:

Get broccoli
Find gay man
Get kids toy at dollar store for being Super Stars

My life is spiraling out of control. I need a vacation.

Dinosaurs For Sale

The kids and I headed over to the Venetian yesterday because I had read that there was a free dinosaur exhibit going on, where real dinosaur bones were on display for the public before they are auctioned off to the highest bidder on October 3rd. We did not go at night and there was not a full moon. I stole this picture off the internet. I just wanted to illustrate how insanely big this casino is and that I did not know where the dinosaur exhibit was exactly.

So we parked in the parking garage and I decided if I started herding a bunch of small children through the casino floor, someone would point me in the right direction. (And they did! A security guard, as a matter of fact.)



Gregory was so mortified by the lady on this advertisement, he went and stood in front of her butt crack to cover her up. Note: this Asian restaurant advertises that they give you a happy ending. And you guys thought I made this stuff up? This is the first time the kids really, really noticed the billboards and all the nakedness on the Strip. And they would point at it and say, "Look! Look! She's NAKED! Ewwwwwwwwwwwww!"

This is a great place to raise children. I highly recommend it



When we found the Dinosaur Exhibit, the security detail had not arrived and it was late opening. So the children occupied themselves by whirling around in circles, chomping at the bit to get in there. I kept telling them to find their patience, even though some of the people waiting with us couldn't find theirs. I kept thinking, "It's FREE people." Sheez.



It was so worth the wait. Did you know most museums only have replicas of dinosaurs? This Tyrannosaurus Rex is the real deal. It's the third most complete set of bones ever found. And it can be yours for around 7 to 8 million. Wouldn't that look cool in my living room?



This shark jawbone would look great with my den furniture. The sign said it is the largest shark jawbone ever found.

"It's a megalodon.", said this boy whose mother couldn't find her patience in line.

"It says it's a shark."

"No. It's a megalodon."

"Really? Why does it say shark?", I asked.

"If he says it's a megalodon, it's a MEGALODON!", his mother snapped at me.

Willy Wonka called! He needs two new characters!



This Wooly Mammoth would totally go with Greg's recliner. That recliner screams, CAVEMAN!



This is an Idontrememberasaurus. Doesn't he look like he's smiling? The girl's room maybe?



The kids kept trying to touch the 60 million year old fossils, so I made them put their hands in the air.

You break the T-Rex and I'll be forced to sell you into slavery.



The boys liked triceratops the best.

"Can we buy him?", Gregory wanted to know.

SURE! Why not? If you have enough money, you can own anything. This is Vegas, baby.

If you get a chance, swing by and see this exhibit. It's awesome they are letting people get a look at these bones before they are sold, and it's a once in a lifetime chance to see fossils in Vegas, if you don't count the old folks in line at the buffets.

Super Star!!!

After lining the kids up for my version of the Spanish Inquisition yesterday, I discovered that the culprit of the trampoline destruction over the weekend was AUSTIN. My sweet innocent baby. Austin was not involved in the original trampoline incident. He was only three when that happened.

So is this what happens when you have your children one at a time? You get to repeat the same phases over and over and over? I thought I was over the Destruction Phase.

And you know why they banded together and lied? To protect Austin from being punished. Cunning little children. They DID learn something from the last trampoline incident ----- self preservation.

Austin has been a pill lately. He wants desperately to hold on to his role as the baby in the family. It's a bunch of little things he is doing, adding up all day long. Like he feigns the inability to put his shoes on or put them in the closet. He acts like he can't brush his teeth or his hair. Or make his bed. Or clean his toys up.

And for the longest time, he actually couldn't do all the things the other kids could, so I would step in and help just him. So now that he is capable of doing all the things the other kids can, I have been expecting him to do them, and he is pushing back.

Instead of the "I do it! I do it!" phase, now he tells me, "You do it! You do it!"

"Austin, it's time to put your shoes on."

"I can't. You do it."

"Austin, I need you to go put your clothes on and make your bed."

"I can't. You do it."

So I had been getting increasingly agitated with him and we were starting to bicker. Then I started hating hearing myself. You know how you get in that bad cycle? Where you bitch and threaten and they whine and fight you? I can't stand those phases.

So a few days ago, I was in Dollar Tree getting hand sanitizer. It's a dollar there and it's a $1.50 at Target. I told you I need therapy. And they had a Job Chart and I thought maybe it was time to do another reward chart to help get Austin to the next phase. I haven't done one for awhile and the kids were really starting to slack on their chores.

So I just make up the rules as I go along. Like Monday was Sunday. I didn't realize it only had a five day week. So you get a star if you complete your task. I uses stars because I didn't have any stickers. Then I added that you get stars if there is No Fighting, No Using Mean Words, and No Yelling.

I guess I also should consider a No Destroying Crap category too.

Notice how nobody has gotten a star for No Yelling?

Then at the end of the day, we count up the stars and whoever has the most stars is the Super Star. And everyone is really excited about being the Super Star. Gregory got Super Star the first night and Amanda and Sarah chased him around and hugged him.

Austin got the least amount of stars that first night and HE CRIED.

I told him that every day was a new day. So he would have the opportunity the next day to start all over and choose better behavior, and choose to do his chores. It was all up to him. Everyone could be a Super Star. We could even have more than one Super Star. But he had to make the decision to earn his stars.

And the very next day, he was on it. It was like he was a different kid. Then he got Super Star and he was so happy. He ran around the house and gave everyone high fives.

Sarah was the Super Star last night.

I'm wondering if Amanda will ever be a Super Star?

Anyway, the cycle is broken. I am not nagging and they are not complaining.

Would it be weird if I made a Job Chart for Greg?

Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before

The kids came running in from the backyard yesterday and Gregory exclaimed, "Mommy! Mommy! Come quick! The wind! The wind wrecked the trampoline."



So I ran outside and saw that the safety net was completely wrecked and noted a light breeze and wondered if there had been stronger winds the night before?

Maybe it had gotten really windy in the middle of the night? Who can forget the time the wind launched it over the wall?

So I told the kids to stay away from it until Daddy could get a look at it. So when Greg got home from work (did you ever in your life think I'd write that?), he went out to look at it.

I explained to him that the wind had destroyed the net.

"Are you that stupid? The wind? The wind MY ASS. They were walking around the outside of it and someone obviously shoved someone else in it and tore the net."

Stop me if you've heard this one before.

THE KIDS DESTROYED THE TRAMPOLINE AGAIN.

Who could forget the last trampoline we had that they took scissors to and murdered the mat and slashed the net, after they stoned it with bricks? I actually transformed into Rambo in First Blood I was so crazy that time. I bit a hole clean through my lip to STOP spanking them before it turned into a beating.

Clearly, I stopped too soon.

I never thought they deserved another trampoline. That was all Greg's doing, so I am having a hard time even getting angry about it this time. I say take it down and goodbye. Don't you agree?

But I think they definitely need a punishment for lying. Fine time to show such excellent teamwork. Every last one of them sticking to the same story? What are the odds OF THAT?

I think I'm going to form a chain gang and make them pull weeds or something equally horrible.

In other news, the kids started karate and gym class last week on Mondays. All the stars and planets aligned so that I was able to put the older three in karate at the same time Austin is in beginner gym, which gives me 30 precious minutes of gossip time on the bench with the other mothers.

.

And wouldn't you know that Stud Muffin's Aunt is there with her four year old twins at the same time we are? So get this. Raggedy Ann's mom is head over heels IN LOVE and people are talking WEDDING BELLS. Oh my gosh, it is SO EXCITING. Then she lived happily ever after with four stepchildren, two of which are already in puberty. The End.

Anyway, Austin is so happy to be back in gym and despite my best intentions, I could not work it out last year for him to take that class. He literally smiles the entire time he is in there.

Across the hall, the other three are taking karate and this is there very first experience ever having a Man Teacher.



They were stunned when they saw Ms. Kim had been replaced by a man. Amanda came out and told me his name is Mr. Casino. That was not quite right, but he is really awesome. They are loving this class too.

There was a new lady sitting next to me yesterday. She just moved to Las Vegas from New Jersey. Stop me if you've heard this one before. She's Italian.

She says, stop me if you've heard this one before, "I've never seen so many blond-haired kids before in one class. You just never see that. I'm used to seeing a room full of brunettes. This is so strange."



Then I looked at Stud Muffin's aunt and we started cracking up.

I wonder if it will take her THREE YEARS to figure it out?

Call me clueless.

"The wind did it Mom. I swear."

Dude. This Is Way Too Turtle Sauce

Although I know to never go to parks on the weekends, for some reason we went on Friday night and last night.

I even drove a ways to go to a park in a much nicer neighborhood than my own on Friday and still ran into complete derelicts and losers (excluding myself, of course). I wonder how the people living in these high-end neighborhoods feel now that the housing market has collapsed, and the homes around them are worth a third as much as they were, and investors are snatching up these suddenly cheap homes and putting renters in them?

Are the demographics of whole neighborhoods changing overnight?

If the people at the park are any indication, then, wow, I'd be pretty mad if I was still floating a million dollar mortgage and have the sort of crowd I witnessed there on Friday. Or maybe everyone drove there from my neighborhood?

Whatever the case, it was dismal.

We hadn't been on the play equipment for five minutes when a group of older boys (eight or nine) started yelling into the play megaphones, "You ugly stupid ass!"

"You stink, you dumb ass!"

"Turtle sauce!"

"Turtle sauce!!!"

I looked toward the greatest offender's father, but he was too busy playing a guitar in his sleeveless shirt, and drinking beer to notice his unruly child.

"Turtle sauce!"

Then my kids started screaming turtle sauce in the megaphones and that just sounded WRONG.

So I whipped my phone out and Googled "turtle sauce".

Per Urban Dictionary.com.

Turtle Sauce

1. A place or group of individuals in which the vast majority are male

2. A male dominated situation

* It is derived from the phrase "Total Sausage Fest"

Guy1: "Dude, lets go to Chris's party on Saturday"

Guy2: "No way dude, I hear its guna be Turtle Sauce"

Great. I really want my kids using a derivative of "Sausage" which means DICK.

"HEY!!! YOU! Let's choose your words more wisely.", I yelled over at the brat.

Then I gathered my kids and told them that those boys were not acting in a way we would act and to stay away from them. And they did. But where have all the nice kids gone? Why are kids such little assholes nowadays? Or were we like that and I can't remember now?

We only had to dodge two loose pit bulls on the way to the car too. Scary.

Then last night, we went to the park by our house. The Slovaks were there playing soccer, and we hadn't seen any of them since last year. When the kids were babies and I pushed them around in the triplet stroller, everyone would stop and talk to me, so we "know" them. Greg's people are Slovak on his father's side, so the soccer player's wives staked a claim on my kids. It was fun to see them and I was looking forward to seeing some of their children from last year.

But as we got close to the play equipment, I saw there was a group of twenty-something men laying on the ground, drinking beer, and they had their car stereo blasting, and I mean BLASTING, 1950s carhop music, which was just BIZARRE.

And I know that it is illegal to drink alcohol in a park, but that doesn't seem to deter ANYONE in Las Vegas, where everyone feels it is their God given right to be publicly intoxicated at all times. And all I could think is how inconsiderate to make every single person within a 2000 foot perimeter listen to the music YOU want like to listen to. People just seem to lack any sense of civility anymore. Am I starting to sound old?

Anyway, it wasn't just me that was annoyed. I could tell the Mexicans were really pissed that they couldn't play their own music, and I saw them pointing at the drunkards while they stirred their big vats on the barbecues. Does anyone know what they are making? I've always been intrigued by those cafeteria-sized pots at the park.

So, again, I was left in charge of all the children since the Slovaks were playing soccer and the Mexicans were cooking. And, again, there were older boys who were not very nice. Again, I wondered if I was not very nice at the age of eight or nine? The older boys decided you had to have a ticket to get down the slides and when Sarah didn't produce one, one of the boys told her that he hated her.

But I let that one slide and she went right back up the steps and said, "You're mean and I don't play with mean boys!"

Good for her.

While all that was going on, I kept glancing over at the drunkards and they were all texting and taking pictures of themselves.

I'm almost certain their status updates on Twitter and Facebook said, "Girl, come up to the park. We listening to carhop. This group is waaaaay too turtle sauce."

I've got to stop leaving the house. Or take up drinking at the park.

Any Speech Pathologists In The House?

Gregory has a lisp and pronounces his S sound like a TH. His tongue protrudes out past his teeth when he speaks, so I think it could be a frontal lisp?



So I've been working with him at home, with my very limited knowledge (like I googled it) and found a website that suggest you use a tongue depresser to place the tongue behind the front teeth and then start making the sound EET. Then once that is mastered, you move on to EETS, because the tongue is already in the perfect position to go from the T sound to the S sound.

Any other suggestions?

I am going to talk to Mrs. P about it and see if he is qualified to get speech therapy at school.

Then if that falls through, I will take him to my pediatrician, so she can tell me, "Sorry. We won't give you a referral."

Then I'll have to say, "Really? Like you wouldn't give me a referral when my child was dying from hydrocephalus?"

Then she'll say, "Oh, sure. Here."

But this could all take months and when I was googling it, the prime time to correct a frontal lisp is at five, before it becomes a habit.

Although, who knows? I'm reading stuff on the internet. Any speech pathologists out there who want to chime in?

I'll Just Stay Here And Clean Instead

I sprung it on Greg yesterday that I was driving to Phoenix today to hang out with my sister and get my hair cut.

Then he sprung it on me that he was driving to Provo with "Uncle" Jerry's dad to watch the BYU/Florida game. Jerry's dad was the star quarterback at BYU back in the day.

So I figured he should go because that sounded fun to me.

Then a neighbor's daughter's hot water heater exploded. Then another friend of a friend's Grandma had a tree fall over on her neighbor's wall.

So now he's working all weekend and not going to Utah and I'm not going to Phoenix.

Yawn.

I'll be over here cleaning toilets.

Doesn't that sound GREAT?

I Have A Stalker

Some of the worst and most embarrassing moments in my parenting experience have happened at the library.

There was this time.

And this time.

I should have made a label for all the crap I've endured during story time at the library just so I could find them all.

So we've been going to story time on Thursday mornings, even though my children are 35 years old now. Like they are literally THE OLDEST kids there. Normal people have children that old IN SCHOOL. But not me. Oh, no. I've got mine until 1pm every single day.

When they were little, I had to sit down in the mosh pit with them and yank them down every 10 seconds. So the one benefit of having kids practically in puberty at story time is that I can sit in a chair, far far far away from them now, and they cross their legs and listen and participate and don't act like goons anymore.

So now I get to sit in a chair and watch all the other mothers freak out and yank their kids down and chase their kids around. It is so excellent.

If you are still in the middle of horrible story time experiences, then I say just keep taking them until they are in high school. It all works itself out eventually.

We really go to the library once a week to get new books. I limit them to five books apiece, but that really means like 10 each by the time they beg for just one more. And they love books so so so much that they actually say goodbye to each book when they are putting them in the return bin.

"Goodbye, Fancy Nancy. I'll miss you."

"Goodbye Clifford. See around next time."

"Don't forget me Ruby Valentine."

They linger over letting each book go and fall down in the bin. It's really so adorable. Unless you are 75 and behind us. Then it's not.

About six months ago, the library hired a new security guard. I'm going to call her Psycho Security Sally. She follows me and my kids. I swear to God. I don't even know how to explain this, but it's like she is stalking me. She has this super long hair and this big bang like that Duggar woman. Only she is really tall and rail thin. Thin in a way that looks like she might have been a heroin addict in her 20s. I would bet she is in her 50s, so that's probably what I will look like in 10 years.

A couple weeks ago, we went on a different day than story time and we were the ONLY people in the entire children's section of the library. I was way way way way way back in the corner by the bathrooms, and I could hear the faint faint faint ringing of my phone in my purse. I have it on the absolute quietest setting. I can rarely hear it in my purse at all. So I answered it and it is my friend Misti. I am whispering and she is telling me something, when Psycho Security Sally barges out of the shadows holding a clipboard with a big sign. NO CELL PHONES.



And she starts pounding on it. Misti kept talking and talking and talking and I was trying to whisper.

"Misti. I have to go. I have to go. I'm getting in trouble."

So, yeah, totally my fault. I was a flagrant cell phone abuser. And we all know how annoying people are with their cell phones. But I swear to you, it was like she was following us. You know how you just know when you are being followed? Since we were the only ones in there, I didn't even see where she came from!

Then, yesterday, she followed us from the book return all the way to the children's section and hovered around until we went into story time. Creepy.

Then when we went over to the check-out after story time, she followed us and stood back in the shadows again.

The worst thing that ever happened to me at the library is when they went to self check-out. You try herding four kids and forty books. People are dropping books. People are shoving their book under the scanner to "help" you. People are taking the ones that have been scanned and putting them back in the pile of unscanned. People are getting other people's books and they are upset. People want a bag. People can't get their books in their bags. More book dropping. More "helping".

Then other library patrons are waiting for their turn and they don't like you.

It's enough to give a person a nervous breakdown.

And this is where Greg interrupts my story and says, "Why do you let them get so many books? You are your own worst enemy!"

But if the worst thing I ever do as a parent is be too lenient when it comes to getting books at the library, well then what can I say?

THEY LOVE BOOKS.

So finally, finally, finally I get all the books scanned. All the books situated in all the bags. And everyone is happy and walking out the door, when the security device goes off when we are leaving. It always does, because I NEVER get all the books demagnetized. I try.

So Psycho Security Sally, WHO WATCHED THE ENTIRE SPECTACLE OF ME SCANNING THEM, runs out and stops me and says, "I'm going to need to see all your books and your receipt."

Photography by Gregory.

So I sort of snap, and I have to tell you, that I am almost always polite in public. But what is this lady's PROBLEM? So I say in my most sarcastic and bitchiest voice, "Okay, kids. Let's dump 'em out!!! We need to COUNT THEM!"

So they did. They DUMPED THEM. And I swear to you on my life, she didn't just count them, she MATCHED MY TITLES TO THAT RECEIPT. Look at that receipt, would you?

"We've had a lot less theft since I started manning the door.", she told me.

I just stared at her. I'm checking out children's books with four kids, wearing my new Mormon uniform. You see it. Do I look like I'm running a book theft ring?

"Crotch the Fancy Nancy. Quick. Don't let the security guard see you."

So finally we matched everything up. Forty. Forty. I could go. Then there was more unpleasantness getting the books situated and back in bags and FINALLY we got to the car.

Then later that day, I drop Austin off at preschool and Laura and I run to Big Lots to see if the cheap toothpaste is there from yesterday's comments. I will go on assignment for you guys.

It wasn't, but I'm telling Laura this story and I didn't even describe the security guard and Laura says, "OMG. Is she tall and thin and have long hair and a big bang?"

"YES!!!!"

"She used to work at the outlet mall on Charleston. I know exactly who you are talking about. She used to STALK me and Don when we would push the kids in the Runabout stroller. We used to hide and try to ditch her!"

So she IS A STALKER. I was right. Do you think she stalks multiples? AND WHY?

I can't wait until next week. I'm going to point my phone at her and get her picture. That should send her right over the edge.

Or I know, when we set the security device off, I will yell, "RUN KIDS! RUN!"

I Need Therapy

Does everyone else drive to three of four different grocery stores a week? Or do you buy all your food in one store and then eat it.

I drive to three of four different stores a week. I always have. Even when I had babies. I took them with me.

If you know that you can get a head of organic romaine lettuce for 99 cents at one store, would you buy a conventionally grown head of lettuce for twice as much somewhere else just for the sake of convenience?

Because I can't. Greg has really messed me up over the years. I was in the store yesterday, and I had run out of cocoa powder. I make my brownies from scratch now that I'm gluten free, so I need cocoa powder, but I was in the wrong store. I couldn't make myself buy the cocoa powder for $2 more than I know I can get it somewhere else.

And I make my brownies from scratch because I can't make myself pay $3.50 for a brownie mix, when I can make brownies myself for a $1.50.

Do I need therapy?

And this is just the grocery store. Don't get me started on everything else. Like I washed my own van in the driveway to save $6 last week. Or that I couldn't make myself pay for a pedicure when I can shave my own heels for free. Or that I haven't had my hair cut in 3 months and I determined it would cost less in gas to drive to Scottsdale and have my sister do it for free, than it would for a cut and color here.

Then as if driving around like a fool to save money isn't enough pressure, the kids have been hounding me about clipping box tops to bring to school to earn money for the school. So I looked at the list of eligible food and, OMG, Betty Crocker Potato Casserole? Or how about Hamburger Helper Microwavable Singles? Cuz if you don't have time to heat up vomit in a skillet, you can just pop it right in the microwave.

That stuff isn't even food. Do you guys actually eat that stuff? Go ahead, tell me.

So I scrolled through the whole list and the only thing I would even POSSIBLY buy was the Old El Paso taco shells.

So sorry kids. No box tops for you.

"But WHY?"

"Because they want me to buy vomit."

So far this week, I have been to Trader's, Sunflower Market, Greg's Scary Grocery Store, and Sam's Club.

Then I tried to make a gluten free pie with my superb flour mixture which I think is the best gluten free flour yet. This could change next week, but this is where I am at.

Michele's Gluten Free Flour

3 cups brown rice flour
3 cups white rice flour
2 cups potato starch
1 cup tapioca starch
2 TB xantham gum



So I rolled out the crust and it just felt wrong. If you are a crust maker, you know how you just know when you roll it out if it is going to be tough? I could tell it was the wrong texture. I think it needed more butter. I'll have to try it a few times to figure it out.



Then I couldn't get it off the counter and had to get a spatula and it crumbled and I pieced it back together and shoved it in there. But the edges were bad.



But somehow I got the top on, edges be damned, and got it in the oven.

So while it was baking, I had a pork loin in the crockpot that I had gotten at Greg's Scary Grocery Store for a $1.19 a pound. In fact I bought 8 pounds of pork loin there for under $10 and I cut and packaged two meals worth of pork chops and two roasts. I didn't even gloat about it to Greg. Then I cut up a butternut squash and steamed it. I peeled potatoes that I bought at Sam's Club, 10 pounds for $3.50, and cut those up to cook later for mashed potatoes, and then I made a nice salad with my 99 cent head of lettuce.

Yes, I feed a family of six a month for around $500 to $600. What do you spend?

And you know what Sarah said when I had the whole dinner table set with roasted pork, mashed potatoes, gravy, squash, and salad?

"Is this all we're having?"

As if that weren't insult enough, Greg ate a big chunk of my pie before dinner and said the crust was horrible.



"You should feel lucky that you have a wife that makes you pies."

"Why? I can't eat them."

Looks like Greg just earned a box top.

Microwavable Hamburger Helper Singles coming up!

Hangman

Thank you all so much for your prayers and thoughts for Macario yesterday. I know if you haven't read my blog for long, you are probably wondering where the connection is between the desert dweller and the Hawaiian with the machete? And I know I didn't really explain that very well yesterday, but I have to tell you as I was going through those photos, I was so overwrought with emotion, I had a hard time blogging at all.

It was as if I could feel the pain in my heart that Macario was feeling, like a very heavy thud in my chest, and I had a hard time putting that into words. I am happy to report that while his bloodwork had not improved yesterday, his nurse reported that he seemed a teeny bit better. So please keep the prayers coming. I think Leslie will take a teeny bit better. Then a teeny bit more. Then a teeny bit more.

And, someday, I promise to write the whole story of how I met Leslie and Macario in the waiting room of a doctor's office in Las Vegas, carrying a basket full of tomatoes. Macario referred to me as the "skinny one". Little did any of us know at the time, I was about 12 days pregnant with triplets and would gain 90 pounds.

I don't have time to tell it right. That story is a tome, and I might be able to work on that one when they get in first grade.

So, today, I will quickly tell you that with a little peer pressure, I was able to suggest to my friend Laura that she "try out" having her triplets in the afternoon preschool class with Austin.



Oh, man, could there be anything cuter than those matching clothes????? Where is Austin's outfit? Which one of these people does not belong?

Now that Austin is back with his surrogate peeps, I just feel so much better. I'm hoping Laura will decide that the horrendous afternoon traffic isn't bad enough to cancel out the much smaller class size than the morning class.

Because it's not really about us, it's about the kids. And having 20 kids in class is sure better than 30, right? I'm not above using guilt when peer pressure doesn't work.

Now I have to tell you something my kids did a few weeks ago, before I tell you what Laura's kids did.

Greg had about a ten foot length of rope in the back of his truck to tie down Who Knows What. He was out working in the garage one evening, and the kids were playing in the driveway, and I was in the house. Read: Nobody was watching them.

The kids climbed into the back of Greg's truck, found the rope, climbed back out, and threw it over a limb on the olive tree. Then they fashioned a loop on the end of the rope to swing. So I imagine they were hanging and swinging on this homemade version of the "rings".

When I walked outside and discovered what they were doing, Gregory had stuck his head inside the loop of the rope. I am not even shitting you. It was a noose. He could have hung himself. I walked out right as he stuck his head in there. Needless to say, that rope is gone and I had a major freak-out.

So I tell you this because Laura's boys were playing with the cord on their blinds, and Wyatt wrapped the cord around his neck, jumped, and launched himself into the window.



Look at his eye and neck. Did I get that story right, Laura? When you told me, I sort of blacked out.

In the last two weeks, two of our kids could have died by hanging. I am going to sit down today and have a very serious talk with our kids about putting stuff around their necks. A very, very, very serious talk. I don't know if this a boy thing, or a TRIPLET thing, but they have got to know that you don't ever, ever, ever put stuff around your neck.

Ever.

I understand now why Greg's mom always says, "I just prayed my three boys would all live to become adults. Then I was sort of surprised when they all did."

If You Are The Praying Sort

This is my dear friend Leslie's husband Macario. Macario has been fighting lymphocytic leukemia for five years. Macario is showing me the taro he had harvested in this picture when I went to visit them. His cancer was in remission when I was there 2.5 years ago.

It came back a year or so ago, and Macario is in the hospital now, fighting for his life. Please if you pray, pray for Macario today. Please picture this wonderful man and say a pray for him to hold on and get through this grueling round of chemo. He is at the lowest point right now and we are all holding our breath, waiting for him to start coming back up. I am praying and picturing him coming up, the cancer cells dying and leaving his body, and his strength and vitality returning to him.

I am picturing him holding his machete and harvesting heart of palm for our salad.










He chopped the hell out that tree and it was so yummy.

I am praying for the his strength to return so he can chop the hell out of some more trees. He was strong here. I am picturing him strong and healthy, his body restored and healed from this horrible disease, so he can return home to wife and five year old daughter.

Please say a prayer, or chant some good thoughts, or send your good energy to my friend Macario today.