Weasel Of Doom

I was reading in bed a few nights ago. Suddenly, OldestOne started talking:

“One sheep… Two sheep… Eight sheep… A thousand sheep..”

I giggled very quietly.

MiddleOne brought a note from school. Apparently, on Monday he got into trouble for pulling down his pants in class (and the note he brought home said that this is inappropriate behavior. Well duh. We would have never known that’s NOT what you do in public, otherwise). Then on Tuesday, he got in trouble again for yelling across the classroom to his friend (during class).

BelovedSpouse and I both talked to him about appropriate behavior, and things he should not do.

MiddleOne, sadly: “But it’s so hard to be good….”

Yesterday, UncleMel was telling the boys how one of his students accidentally wrote theta (θ) instead of phi (φ) in a formula (yes, the world of higher math is full of excitement and dangerous Greek letters).

What did my two delinquents want to know? How to spell “poop” in Greek.

I think it’s time to abandon all hope.

This morning during our “how many times can we hit the snooze button before dragging ourselves out of bed” time, OldestOne asked if we can play the Alphabet game. I am all for educational games, so we started playing. I can’t remember what they came up with for “A,” but I think we got “B” covered:

MiddleOne: “Boob!”
OldestOne: “Butt!”
YongestOne: “Boob! Butt!”

Yup, they are boys.

My children believe in taking their bath with as many toys as possible. Among the toys are foam letters and numbers. The kids have been using them mostly as chew toys, but lately all three delight in putting random letters and numbers together and asking me to read them out loud.

Fortunately for me, I am really good at pronouncing XLZYN and SN2VA7W. The kids think it’s the funniest thing ever. I am glad they are easily amused :)

Last week, I called my doctor to see if she would be willing to up my anti-depressants dose, because it seems like 20 mg are not doing it anymore. Even though it turns out that my doctor won’t be back at the office until December. Fortunately, she keeps in touch with the office, and OK’ed switching me to a higher dose.

Incidentally, a three-month prescription for generics at Target is $10, vs. $4 for monthly prescription. I saved $2 :)

We’ll see in a couple weeks if a higher dose will make me function better. Fingers crossed.

[the post has been back-dated, since I fell asleep last night before posting

YoungestOne and I went to Target today, to pick up exciting things like swim diapers, scrub pads, and dishwasher gel packs.

YoungestOne, looking at the red balls at the front: “Mommy, these are big! As big as your butt!”

And I have nothing to say. For your amusement, here are some search queries that landed people on my blog, with my comments in parentheses:

• obey the weasel of doom (my all-time favorite)
• lukeskywalkeroatmealbutterscotchcookies (space bar is your friend)
• diapered weasel (not even going to go there)
• naked bath boys (this one is worrisome)
• weasel+recipe (beggars, choosers)
• ass mode help (sorry, can’t help there)
• my boss is a weasel (I feel your pain)
• “you’ve really ballooned” (you have my permission to punch whoever said it)
• “stab stabbity” (amen, sister)

Fifteen years ago, if somebody told me that there will come a time when the highlight of my day will be sniffing cheap shampoo at Wal-Mart, I would have laughed them out of the room.

Today, let me tell you that Suave’s “Mango Mandarin” and “Aloe & Waterlily” smell very nice, and you can get a family size bottle for only $1.47.

MiddleOne, in the bath: “Mommy, can you not brush my hair after the bath tonight? I want to look like a rock star tomorrow!” YoungestOne, screaming at the top of his lungs, “I want to be a rock, too!”

BelovedSpouse and I were goofing off while putting kids to bed. At one point, Spouse held me captive, and I called upon my children to help. BelovedSpouse, of course, told them not to. And then, because we are mean that way, he asked The Question: “Who are you going to believe, Mommy or me?” After a few seconds, OldestOne replied, “Neither one of you.”

They are onto us.

In a fit of insanity, I signed up for a six-week Body Basics Pump class.

Pump up your weekends with Body Basics Pump! Set to motivating music, this group strength-training class is designed to work your whole body using barbells and weights. Suited for all ages and ability levels, not only will participants get a great workout, but correct lifting form and proper stretching technique will be reviewed.

This post brought to you by my very sore muscles :) Also, I suck at working out.

MiddleOne’s kindergarten class sang in church this morning, so the rest of us, plus my mother-in-law, descended upon the (Gym) House of God. I dragged myself out of bed at the last minute, so did not see what my children wore until we half-way to MiddleOne’s school.

MiddleOne, who was specifically told to dress nicely since he was singing, wore gray sweatpants, shapeless blue turtleneck, orange-and-green Halloween socks, and sandals.

YoungestOne (who was dressed by his father, thus making BelovedSpouse responsible for our familial sartorial outrage) also wore sweatpants, green camouflage long-sleeved shirt, and a blue t-shirt over it.

OldestOne was the best dressed, in blue track pants and a long-sleeved dinosaur shirt. Also pared with sandals and Halloween socks.

Needless to say, we stood out a bit. Thank God for one guy who showed up in shorts, because his wife and I were the only two women in the congregation wearing jeans.

It’s a good thing that God does not care what clothes people wear to worship Him, because otherwise I am pretty sure it was only my jacket and high-heeled boots that saved us from being smited on sight :)

(I am too tired to post something funny or profound, and saving the “why I am so tired” post for tomorrow – and no, it is NOT because I am pregnant, for those of you who are looking for a reason to commit me to a nice psych ward – so here’s what our schedule looks like here at Casa “”Help, I am outnumbered by penises 4:1!”)

Monday
BelovedSpouse has an evening class 6-10 pm;
OldestOne and MiddleOne have swimming 6:30-7:00 pm
Tuesday
UncleMel comes over;
occasionally, Scouting meetings for OldestOne
Wednesday
OldestOne has art class for an hour after school;
BelovedSpouse has an evening class
Thursday
BelovedSpouse has a morning class, so I get to drive the PapaVan;
E-and-S night
Friday
Game night for BelovedSpouse, goof-off night for me (if the stars align)
Saturday
8-8:50 am I have Body Basics Pump class (WTF was I thinking);
9:30-10 am YoungestOne has swimming;
10:45-12:00 OldestOne and MiddleOne have gymnastics;
BelovedSpouse often goes to an undisclosed location to study all day;
UncleMel comes over around 4pm and saves my sanity
Sunday
OldestOne and MiddleOne have skating 6-6:40 pm.

And it’s only going to get worse from here. Is it any wonder I am tired?

A couple times a week, MiddleOne or YoungestOne come up to me, attach themselves to my leg (and if I am lucky, fail to pull my pants off), look up, and say “I like you, Mommy!”

When I put them to bed, I give them a hug and a kiss and say, “I love you. Good night!” Two little voices reply back, “I like you too, Mommy!” (OldestOne saves his affection for Papa. In a good month, I get a “like” every other week.)

We have no idea why the kids use “like” instead of “love.” It does not bother me – as a matter of fact, I find it amusing and sweet. And it always reminds me of when I was 20 and asked my Dad, “I know you love me, but would you like me if I wasn’t your daughter?” Dad thought for a while, and then told me that I have a lot of personality flaws.

Here’s hoping that in 15 years, I would both “love” and “like” my children…