It's Been One of Those Days

Do you ever have those days where you just want to disappear? You know, you make up an excuse to go run errands, work on the computer, take a bath with the music cranked loud? Well, it's been one of those. Things were fine this morning. I went to the chiropractor, got a yummy raspberry italian soda, went to the grocery store. JP was on the PS3, the littles were watching their library movies so I could return them today, Bubba was still asleep (at 11:30). He was awake when I got back and, surprise, on the PS3. JP was attempting to diagnose what was wrong with his new RC car he got for Christmas. The littles were in the backyard (in the snow without snow clothes on). I made them finish their other movie and clean out the new hamster cage while I sat down on the computer to do some work for the business. When the movies were done, I was headed to the library, bank and the other grocery store to get what I couldn't find at the first one.

At this point, I was really needing to get out of the house anyway because even though I was in the office, they were bugging me. It was one of those days where I just wanted to have me time. I wanted Christmas break to be over and have them back at school. Bubba insisted on going to the store with me so he could get out of the house. Why is it that they get more clingy when mom is grouchy? 

When we got back, he and the littles decided it would be a good idea to throw each other around the living room and onto the Lovesac. I'm not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to bring that back downstairs from the playroom. All they've done is launch each other off it, flip onto it and use it as an end zone to play living room football. It's supposed to be for extra seating. But do boys ever use anything for its intended purpose? Nope. So why did I expect anything else? Wishful thinking I guess. So of course people are going to get hurt today like every other time. Bubba decided to bury Coco underneath it and suffocate him. "He asked me to!" Seriously dude? You're almost 15, think about it. Not a good idea. Of course Coco comes out screaming his bloody head off because the child does not have an inside voice or normal volume for anything. And when he gets hurt? He rages on everyone and everything. He has some serious anger management issues. But I probably would too if my three older brothers constantly picked on me. He can do serious damage if you let him rage on them. Sometimes I want to just sit and watch the show and laugh. They deserve it after all. But the yelling is getting to me. It's always nice when you have a headache and three kids are all screaming at you that "he did it" or "he asked me to" or "he started it". *Heavy sigh*

I finished eating lunch, did a few more emails and then, to use our family's new term, "rage quit" and went and took a hot bath and blared my music while reading a book. Of course I'm not in there for three minutes when Coco comes screaming at the door that Peanut ate a bite of his food while he was bringing me my phone upstairs because Bubba told him he did. Do I believe Bubba? No. He's trying to get a rise out of Coco and stir s*** up with him and Peanut. Peanut is yelling up the stairs that he did not. "But, mom, a square of it was gone," Coco insists. "That's because YOU ate it!!" Peanut yells back. 

My reply? "Don't believe Bubba. He's trying to get you mad. I trust Peanut. Now let me have a bath!" Why is it that when I try to take a shower or even pee for Pete's sake, all hell breaks loose around here? Fortunately, by the time I got out, Dad was home from work. I came down to work a little more and they started in with the whining again. "I'm off duty and so done with you guys! Complain to Dad," I say as I shut the office door. I ate my feelings with the rest of the coconut creme pie from Christmas and now Dad is hiding out in the office with me while they play football in the living room. He gave up trying to watch his football. "I like to watch football. You know what I don't like to watch? Football in front of my football," he complains. Peanut has now barricaded himself in his room and is reading books because everyone is "being jerks" to him. *Heavy sigh again*Please let this day end soon.

Why Boys?

Why did God make me a mom of all boys? Well I'll tell you.

1. I love MMA. The bloodier the fight, the better. There's something about watching people punch each other that makes me feel better. Watching the chicks fight makes me think I missed my true calling in life.
2. I love shooting stuff. Another thing that makes me feel better.
3. I can belch with the best of them-actually much louder than my children sometimes.
4. I love baseball. And not just because my kids play. I grew up going to Angels games and always loved it. I don't find it boring at all. Watching it on TV-yes, but not being at a game. And I love to keep score. I know what's going on that way and I've got it down pretty good after doing it for like 5 or so years now.
5. I don't like camping. How does this make sense? Well, if He had given me girls, I would never have that one weekend a year when they all go camping for three days. It's a time when I can rejuvenate myself. I eat ice cream two or three times a day and have chick flick marathons and read a lot.
6. I was a tomboy growing up. Almost all of my friends were boys. I only ever had one really close girlfriend at a time, but I was always hanging out with the boys.
7. I love action movies.
8. I love beautiful cars. Someday, when I'm a rich and famous author, I will collect them.
9. Driving a race car is on my bucket list.
10. I'm not a sissy. I'm not trying to brag or anything, but I once helped my husband carry an incredibly heavy washing machine up a flight of stairs-just the two of us. I'm pretty strong for a girl and so far can still pin my 14 year old and beat him in arm wrestling. I'm sure that won't last another year, but still, for the moment, it makes me feel like a boss.
11. I like the feel of mud and I don't mind getting dirty. Mud boggin' is a serious blast.
12. Sometimes I'm a bad mom and encourage my children to hit each other. Well, not exactly, but there are times when one whines about someone hitting them and I say, "Well what do you want me to do about it? Hit him back."


I do still think boys can be disgusting at times. Case in point: tonight, Coco announced during a boxing match with Peanut that he had to go to the bathroom. Peanut asks, "One or two?" Coco announced that it was just one. But Peanut proceeded to talk about poo versus pee and how long it takes. I also do not enjoy when they tell me what it looks like. No thank you. I don't like the eating of boogers either. That's just wrong.

I do love girly things like princesses and the colors pink and purple. I collect purses (that I never end up using), scarves (that's a new one this year), and shoes. But I love having all boys. They are dramatic enough, so if I had girls, I might have to be committed. Boys tend to lose their minds from about 10-12 years old, but Bubba has come out of that and is a fairly easy teenager. And the best part of it all, I get to be the queen of the house and every single one of them treats me like I am. One of them asked once, "Why do you get to eat ice cream?" And one of the other ones said, "Because she's the queen and she can do what she wants." Enough said.

Birthday Fail-Sort Of

So today is my birthday. I really don't feel like I'm as old as the number I turned, but whatever. It is what it is. Anyway, the day started off fine. JP made me frozen waffles for breakfast, but I had gone back to bed after waking them for school because I didn't get to bed until 2 am and slept like crap. So, worst mom in the world award goes to me for saying thank you, but why don't you eat them because I'm not hungry and really just want to sleep right now. I felt like crap afterward because it was such a sweet gesture. Once I got Coco off to afternoon kindergarten, I cleaned up the living room floor and organized the kitchen counter (which ended up taking much longer than I thought it would). I finally sat down to read for awhile and then my sissy called and took me to get ice cream. After all the boys got home from school, it was time for Peanut to start his diorama on Pippi Longstocking that is due TOMORROW. We got a Lego drawer made and a Lego Pippi, but then he said he had a headache. Apparently, his teacher forced them to have a gum chewing contest for like twenty minutes. So he laid on the couch to rest for awhile. In the meantime, the nicest six year old brother in the world went upstairs to make a Lego couch for the project while Mom added some orange ribbon to create Pippi's hair. (It looks awful by the way, but when all you have is boy Legos, it's all you can do to even find a face that is somewhat smiling). By then, it was time to go drop off Bubba for summer Legion ball tryouts and then time for JP's game. I told Peanut that he could just rest in the car during the game. I get there and set up all my crap-fill my wagon with my chair, Coco's chair (that he won't end up sitting in), camera bag, snack bag, blanket bag, drinks, etc. B hands me the scorebook to set up and I help little guy find his one dollar coin in the bag so he can go buy candy at the snack shack. He finally settled on a ring pop and caramel apple sucker. I go to sit down and thirty seconds later hear him screaming like he's just been shot. He tripped on the rocks and scraped the crap out of his elbow, which is now bleeding all over, and dang it his stupid ring pop is covered in dirt. I grab some napkins and the water bottle that has a squirt top and clean as much of his arm as I can and wash off the ring pop (which he might've been more upset about). I finally sit down, ready to enter the line-ups in the book when wouldn't you know it, Captain Headache walks up to me, "Mom, I need help." The child is COVERED in vomit. Yep, he puked all over himself. All the car windows were down so I said, "Did you throw up outside?" Of course he didn't. Did he at least lean out the window and barf on the exterior part of the car? Of course he didn't. Instead, he leaned in between the two middle seats of the van and barfed the entire contents of his stomach all over the carpet, his socks, his shorts, his shirt, and his face. So, I go pack all my crap back into my wagon and into my car and drive home with all the windows down and Captain Barfs-a-lot in the front seat in nothing but his underwear. I get him in the house, tell him to shower, and proceed to bring out as much cleaning stuff as I can think of. Bubba gets a ride home from tryouts and says, "Oh Mom, worst birthday present ever. What can I do to help?" He helped get fresh water, hose off the floormats, and get cleaners from the house. Coco went and found me a scrub brush. It was so nice to have their help. I came in the house to change and check on Peanut, but he still hadn't gotten in the shower. He was just lying on the floor in the bathroom. I cleaned Coco's elbow and Bubba gave me a giant hug and I left to watch the last hour of JP's game. Bubba called to let me know that Peanut had finally taken a shower, but was so tired after that he fell asleep on the floor wrapped in nothing but a towel. I told him to at least cover him with a blanket. After the game (which by the way it started pouring rain when I got there), I came home to Bubba and Coco shouting, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!" They had cleaned the downstairs, including the toys off the stairs, and done the dishes. Plus, Bubba had made Coco mac 'n cheese, and woken up Peanut, helped him get dressed and then physically carried him up to his top bunk to bed! Best present ever! So I got the worst present ever, but also the best, so it wasn't a total fail.

Fists of Fury

I will never be the woman whose house is always immaculate-even if you drop by unannounced. Who in umpteen years of knowing me, you've never once seen me without make-up. Who loves to workout and has zero percent body fat to prove it. Who you've never once heard raise her voice to her children the entire time you've known me. Who always takes the high road. The one who sews clothes for her kids. The one who is super crafty and makes all kinds of cute stuff to decorate her house. (And yes, these are real women I know)

Instead, this is what you see when you walk in my front door:

Yep. It's our front room. Every person who walks in the front door, sees this. Because heaven forbid you should play with your 18 different car and monster truck sets and then actually clean it up after you're done.

So, here's a look at a day in my life. All of this actually happened to me yesterday. Don't be jealous.

#3 child is practically impossible to get out of bed in the morning. If it's extra hard, I bribe with candy in his lunch. Every morning I have to give him a piggy back ride down from his top bunk, carry him to the hall bathroom and pick out his clothes for him to get dressed. He's seriously like a zombie. I do all this so that #4 can stay asleep in bed because he has afternoon Kindergarten. 

Then, when #4 does finally wake up, he wants to watch movies, eat candy and play PS3-not do homework and get dressed. Some days, it's a fight to get him off to school. Yesterday it was raining, so I told him to put on his hoodie, but he really wanted to wear a leather jacket, and he insisted that the hoodie would fit under the jacket. So, he puts the jacket on over the hoodie (he is wearing the hood) and zips it up the front. A ridiculous look, but whatever, he's six and apparently has no fashion sense.

I make it to the library after dropping him off and then come home to wash baseball pants for practice. First, I bleach them in the sink because I've already washed them in the washing machine and they still didn't come clean. I soak them for over a half hour while I put a load in the washer. At this point, they still look the same so I use the brown Feldsnaptha soap bar to scrub them and then add some Spray 'N Wash for good measure. Then I stick them in the machine again. (And a day later, my hands still smell like bleach despite washing multiple times and several different lotions). It's still raining, so I drive to pick up #1 from school so he doesn't have to walk and because he has to get ready for his game right away. I hurry and make him a sandwich while he gets dressed and then we rush over to the high school, where I get to dodge idiotic teenage drivers while they cut each other off and honk at one another. I get home and come in the office to pay bills, only to realize it's time for the others to get out of school, and since it's still raining, I pick them up too. We get home and the little one is instantly begging for me to cut him a croissant and slather Nutella all over it. I tell him, "Not yet," so he proceeds to scream his head off. I put him in time-out, but give in and make the damn snack for him anyway since he's stopped crying-and let's face it, he's the baby so 95% of the time he gets his way. Meanwhile, #3 remembers that he has to paint his Pinewood Derby car because he has to drop it off the next day at the Cubmaster's house to be weighed. I get a text from #1 telling me that his game is cancelled because of the rain, but they're going to practice for awhile. I check the laundry and the pants still haven't come clean, so I completely give up. I straighten up the kitchen a little before a text comes in that they're already done practicing because JV and Varsity were both in the hitting facility with them since they couldn't go on the fields. While I'm picking him up, #3 is painting wobbly, mixed color lines on his car, but oh well, at least he did it himself unlike the other kids that will show up with their pimped out cars their dads did for them. When I get home, I decide to hide out in the playroom for like twenty minutes to read. I hear, "Mom! Where's mom?" while I'm lounging in the giant Love Sac. Is it completely awful of me that I didn't answer? I didn't make a peep. That's the whole point in trying to hide out. But, #1 quickly finds me because he wants to play on the PS3 anyway. But he closes the door so the others won't come in. Yeah right. #3 and #4 come in chucking stuffed animals at each other and screaming in delight. #1 wants to buy some special camo suit for his character on his game, but doesn't know the password to buy something. I don't know either since dad set it up and he's driving while I text him that #1 has sent an email request for the password, so he can't text me back before the child gets impatient. I give up on reading and head down to make French toast for dinner because, honestly, I didn't have a plan since I thought I'd be eating a ballpark hamburger right about now at the baseball game that didn't happen. I'm able to get a few pieces made and some bacon done before dad and #2 have to leave for practice-that they're still having even though they can't go on the field because dad is passing out uniforms and they will play whiffle ball on the grass. I'm able to get everyone else fed after that, but #1 only eats bacon because, apparently he no longer likes French toast. After dinner, the neighbor comes over to play PS3 for 15 minutes with #3 and #4 before he has to go home for the night. After he leaves, I tell them I'm going to have a shower and then we'll read scriptures. But #4 can't get his remote to work because the neighbor turned off his own remote, which apparently is now the one that he needs to use, but he doesn't know this yet so he literally lays on his back and kicks his legs and screams. #3 and I are yelling at him to stop or he doesn't get to play while we figure out the problem. Finally, I get in the shower, but as soon as I step in the water, all hell breaks loose. The door flies open and #4 is bawling because #1 is kicking them off the game even though they've only played for a few minutes. #1 flies in to gripe, I 'm trying to convince him to let them play, but then I hear thuds and fists of fury flying in the bedroom-all while I'm still in the shower mind you. I yell at them to stop and close the door so I don't freeze-which they promptly don't do. By the time I get out, dad gets home and tells me that aliens have taken over #1's body because he's as sweet as sugar as he tells dad that he let his brothers play and it's no big deal. What the hell?! We finally read scriptures, get the littles off to bed and watch TV. But around 10:30 or so, #4 comes into the hallway upstairs yelling down to me because he ripped a book while he was reading it! We finally get to watch TV again, but at midnight when dad goes up to bed, he realizes he has to glue the weights and wheels onto the Pinewood Derby car and it's apparently my fault for not reminding him. I finally go to bed around 1:20ish after I watch Agents of Shield, only to find myself lying there wide awake until almost 3 am. Some days I just want to punch something and bang my head against the wall...

My Bubba Boy

This cute, teenage boy is my buddy. We discovered a new TV show, Intelligence that we both like. So, I record it on Monday nights and he and I watch it together after school on Tuesday before his brothers get home from school. It's fun to have one-on-one time with him. Yesterday, we were watching it after school and I told him I would give him some of my Milk Duds if he got them out of the pantry for me, so he did. Awhile later, I mentioned that I should get up and make myself a quesadilla at next commercial break since I hadn't eaten lunch. He said, "I'll make you one." What? My child who is too lazy to even make himself a sandwich for his school lunches most days just offered to make me lunch? I said, "Are you sure? You don't have to make me one. I can do it." Bubba, "No, it's okay. I was gonna ask you to give me another Milk Dud, but I decided just to do it because I love you." I love these moments!! I lock them away in my memory and my heart for those other days when he has teenage angst. I love that my boys still snuggle on the couch with me to watch TV. Or when they randomly say, "I love you, Mom." I love you too guys!

Best Day EVAH!

Sixteen years ago today, I met this cute guy.

I was bored that night and had two guy friends (one from my apartment complex) that stopped by and asked if I wanted to go to the church institute dance with them at ASU. I'd been a few times. They weren't anything super exciting, but it was something to do. As soon as we walked in, they told me they were going to go "mingle", which apparently meant, "You're not invited to follow or we won't meet any chicks." So, there I stood, pissed off and alone. There was a cute eighteen year old kid getting ready to leave on his mission that struck up a conversation with me. But here I am, at twenty one thinking, "Yeah, this isn't gonna go anywhere." After a bit, this kid Don walks in. Hallelujah! Someone I know. I met him at a party a few weeks earlier so I called out his name and he came over. Of course he didn't remember my name, but whatever. There was this hot guy with him when he walked in-who promptly walked elsewhere before even heading my way with Don. I was thinking, "Wait! I called Don over here partly because I wanted to meet you, hot mystery guy." Don and I talked for awhile and a bit later, mystery guy walks over, plops himself directly in front of me, put out his hand, and introduced himself. I might have heard bells or angels singing. I can't quite remember. But I was gone. Yes people, I believe in love at first sight because it happened to me. He later told me that he thought I was this cute punker chick. I was ranting about how much guys sucked because my friends had ditched me. And I was also sick of guys not committing. The song "Faithfully" by Journey began to play and I mentioned how much I loved the song. My prince told me later he was going to ask me to dance, but Don asked first. After the dance was over, a bunch of the kids I had previously met at aforementioned party were getting together at this girl, Cami's house. They invited me, so of course I said yes. My "friends" actually seemed annoyed that I wasn't going home with them when I found them to tell them. I was like, "Really? You're kidding right? I haven't seen you once tonight." So we get to Cami's and we're waiting for everyone to show up. I'm standing in the back of this guy, Russ' truck when we're finally ready to go in. B offered me a piggy back. We decided to watch "Dumb and Dumber" and B sat on the couch. I was going to sit next to him, but Cami plops down next to him and blocks off the rest of the couch. Threatened much? So, I opted for leaning on his legs on the floor instead. I untied his shoes-an obvious sign that I liked him. I kept finding conversation hearts in a dish on the table with notes. Doofus didn't even read them. He didn't get the clue. The way Cami was dominating his attention, I assumed they were together. That wasn't going to stop me from flirting though. This guy Mark offered to massage my shoulders during the movie-I must've been complaining. B told me later that he was so jealous. Ha! Later, when Don was going to take B home, I got a ride too. By the time we got to my apartment, this guy still hadn't asked for my number. So as I'm leaving the backseat I give him my pager number. Yes, I did say pager. He called the next evening and asked if I wanted to hang out that night. Unfortunately, I already had a date to a hockey game with a guy that I didn't like, but didn't want to be a jerk and cancel. Instead, we talked on the phone for three hours on Superbowl Sunday the next night. We set a date for Tuesday afternoon to hang out at the giant new-ish mall. We talked for like another two hours and even though it was time for him to go to his night class, he asked if I wanted to see "Titanic" instead. He didn't kiss me that night, which I actually thought was awesome. But he left the next day to go to Idaho and Utah for a buddy's wedding and to visit his dad. He was going to be gone for ten days. I have read him my journal from during that time. It already felt like we were dating, and I literally wrote that I thought he was really "the one". He came home a day early-just so he could see me. He called as soon as he drove in and we went out with the same friends that night for a bonfire. We got told to leave at the first place because it was on an Indian Res. We moved to the lake, but he and I never ended up getting out of his truck. We sat there for three hours talking again. It was amazing. Finally though, I had to take matters into my own hands and kiss him. I think even he was a goner after that. Four months to the day later, we were married in the Bountiful Utah temple. God definitely made sure we were both in the right place at the right time. And they lived happily ever after...

Loud and Proud

Do you ever feel like this? I seem to have more days than not when I just want to "Hulk Smash" something. Why is it that we get our parents worst traits, and then pass on our worst traits to our own kids. That's so unfair. Life is unfair enough, I don't want my kids to turn out like me. I'm stubborn, hot tempered (thank you Italian grandma), loud (again Grandma's fault), no patience, then throw bipolar in the mix. Unfortunately, I act or talk before thinking things over when I'm annoyed or mad. I don't really give a crap if I offend people most of the time. If someone is offended, it's because they choose to be. I'm not purposely being mean to anyone. Bubba was pushed down and called the "n" word by a junior in high school at a baseball camp this fall. All because he was pitching well in whiffle ball. If I would've been there, I'm not sure what I would've done. Probably stormed over there, got in the kid's face and threaten to call the police. It would be hard not to just full on punch the kid in the face. Pick on someone your own size, bully. Sheesh.

I have two very stubborn children who also have no inside voice and hot tempered. Somehow there's a totally chill kid in our family. And then there's the Saint. Not sure where they came from. Actually, mellow boy is just like his Papa Bailey. Thank Heavens for that. And the Saint, well he just makes me want to be a better person. He's my hero. He may just be translated like Moses someday. And just to add insult to injury, with four kids, at least one of them is likely to be bipolar. At least I should be able to see the signs. I wish I would've known when I was younger. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt like I was losing my mind. Some days, I still feel like I am. Meds only do so much to make a person feel somewhat "normal".

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love my boys. They also have awesome traits-incredibly loving and affectionate, kind to others (except for each other), funny, and well, just full on amazing. I know that God sent me these boys for a reason. I was meant to be a mother of all boys. I was a tomboy growing up. I hated dresses or curling my hair. Most of my friends in high school were boys. I had one best girlfriend, but everyone else I hung out with were boys. And I was a guy's girl. Burping loud, not afraid to pig out, loved shooting, grew up going to Angels' games. And now, I still love shooting, can shock my kids with my belches, love UFC (the more blood, the better), and I live for baseball season. I used to want a girl. Four times I did. But I came to realize after boy four was born, I didn't really want one. What would I do with a princess? I don't want to share the throne around here. I guess that makes me selfish, but my boys are learning from Dad how to treat a woman. He really is the greatest man I've ever known. And maybe, if I'm lucky, my boys will all grow up to be just like him.