Tonight, Dan was busy elsewhere.  Home alone, I put the kids down, and snuggled up with the baby to watch a movie.

Throughout the movie, I had to hit pause to holler at my youngest (before baby) to GO TO BED.

At 9:32, my sister called to check up on me.  I had just put the baby down and we started chatting.  While we talked, the dog barked to be let in and I got up and opened the door.  The baby started fussing.  Putting the baby off a bit, I paced and continued to talk.  I started to notice a very foul odor.  “What is that?” I thought.  And, as I watched my dog rub her entire body against the leather chair, it dawned on me that she had been skunked.  YET AGAIN.

My sister tried her best not to laugh out loud as I hung up the phone.

The baby cried louder, needing to be fed.

I threw the #$%#! dog outside, thinking that the neighbors were just going to have to deal with it if she barked.  My baby needed to eat.

Damn that dog.

While I nursed, I watched some more of my movie.

Thankfully Andrew fell asleep and I was able to put him down.

I paused my movie, put the baby down and, cussing, got out my deskunking supplies and whipped up a batch of potion.  As I walked out my front door (the skunk is in the back) to give the dog a bath, who is there but my neighbor.  The perfect one, out walking her perfect dog, with a flashlight to smartly keep the skunks away.  “Oh, no!” she said.  “Oh, yes!” I replied.

Donning my beautiful purple playtex rubber gloves, I bathed my dog, flooding the front yard and entertaining the neighborhood in the process.

I dried the dog off and, finished with the nasty business, I then had to bathe myself.  With the house unbelievably quiet, I took a hot, cleansing shower.  As I stepped from the tub, I swung my towel around to dry myself off…

…and the end of it landed in the toilet.

It’s sad, really, that she finds herself a target.  I get comments like that often, but then I’m an anomaly, right?  With FOUR kids and another on the way?

The truth is, whether you have one or six or 10, you still have your hands full.  (Unless maybe you’re doping up your kids.)  For the most part, having kids is crazy and wonderful, all mixed together.  At other times… well… you know.  It is NEVER easy.  It is RARELY calm or quiet.  But for those who believe that one or two is acceptable, and more than that demands a comment, I say poppycock.

I’ve seen plenty of people at the store struggling with just one child. Or two.  The number of children doesn’t really change the situation.

As a matter of fact, I had the allowable number of TWO children with me yesterday at Target.  You’d think it’d be a breeze.  I mean, I was down to half my normal crew and only needed to pick up a few things.  Piece of cake, right?  Riiiiiiight.  After the moaning and groaning required while browsing for a dress (ewwwwwww) for their sister, we grabbed a couple of other things and then headed to the checkout lane.  There was no waiting, but still, my boys couldn’t wait to be free.  Luke, old enough to climb out on his own, did so and then stayed perched on the outside of the cart while the checker did her thing.  Sam, having seen his brother break free, also wanted out.  He was in the front of the cart and when he started to extract himself, I grabbed him and told him “NO.”  He was in the squatting position by then and asked if he could at least stay that way.  “NO,” I told him.  “You need to SIT ALL THE WAY DOWN.”  And, just as he was asking, “But why???”

C R A S H !

Thanks to Luke’s weight on the side and Sam not sitting properly, over the cart went.  Sam, having smacked his head, was screaming.  Luke was looking scared.  I was trying to console Sam and pick up the cart, frustrated and embarrassed as could be.  I had almost made it out of the store disaster-free.

Somehow I managed to get the cart up-righted and pay the cashier.  As I was grabbing my two measly bags and explaining to Sam that THAT is why he needs to sit properly, my neighbor materialized before me.  Shit.  Thankfully, though, it was the neighbor with two small energetic children of her own.

She gave me a sympathetic look and told me that she was at the snack counter getting a green crazy straw since the cashier had dared give her son THE WRONG COLOR.  Her two children were at a snack table fighting over the one acceptable straw.  “I’m surprised you didn’t hear them screaming about it,” she told me.

Yeah, well, I might have if I hadn’t be in the throes of my own disaster.

Anyhow, us moms of young ones don’t need comments from strangers about the number of children we have, or about how brave/crazy/stupid, etc. we must be.  Instead, we’d simply prefer those strangers to a) completely ignore us and go on about their business; or b) smile and offer to hold the door.  (Or pick up the cart.)

This morning, I woke poor Jack early so he could shovel the several inches of snow off the driveway so we could get to school.  Even if his dad HAD done it before going to work, at the rate it’s snowing, Jack would have had to do it again anyway.  He’s a champ, though, and did a terrific job!

So, I shoved my four kids into the Accord – our small, but reliable vehicle – and off we went.

As today is Sam’s day for school, I parked in the lot and we all walked in together.  After getting his boots off and his shoes on and seeing him to the classroom, Luke and I headed back out into the snow.  The car was already covered!  With just the two of us, we were able to get in, buckled and settled quickly.

Only to find that the car WOULDN’T START.  Hahahahahaha.  I laughed at first.  Thought maybe it wasn’t in park.  It was.  I tried again.  NOTHING.  The accessories were working, so it isn’t the battery.  But nothing else.  No noise, no NOTHING.  I took it out of park, put it back into park, made sure my foot was on the brake, turned off all accessories, took a breath and tried again.

NADA.

Is someone trying to play some sick kind of joke on me?  What did I do???

I called Dan at work and told him of our plight.  I think I heard tears falling to his desk.  Or, maybe it was the sound of him ripping what little hair he has left out.

With nothing left to do, Luke and I trudged home.  In the snow.  Which continues to fall.

Luke told me, “This is the baddest day in my life!”

At this point, I couldn’t agree more.

Well, it’s worse.

As I headed to the mall yesterday  morning (still in St. Louis) with my cabin fevered kids, the Honda service guy called.  “Blah, blah, blah, FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS, blah, blah THURSDAY.”

Somehow, I managed not to wreak my father-in-law’s car at hearing the news.

I called Dan at work. “Blah, blah, blah, FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS, blah, blah at least THURSDAY.  Boohooohoooo.”

Breathe…

With that much money at stake, we needed time to think.  But, I also needed to get back to Chicago.  Dan had missed enough work playing Mommy, and Luke, Sam and I needed to be at home.

I abandoned my mall plans and headed back to my in-inlaws’ house.  Dan had already called them with the bad news, so they were ready with sympathetic faces and food.  God bless them, they lent us one of their vehicles so I could take the boys and get back home.  We’d figure the rest out later.

Five long hours later, we were HOME.  Still van-less and in a financial predicament, but all together again and at our own home.  The boys were thrilled to see their Dad again and Maria doled out the hugs as if we’d been gone for a month.  (I think Jack managed a “hi!” before getting back to whatever it was he was doing before our arrival.)

So.  The van.  Right now it sits in St. Louis in pieces.  Part at the dealership, part at the machine shop.

I don’t know much about cars, but apparently the timing belt that was put on the van last year was bad or went bad and f*cked up the engine, along with a bunch of other stuff.

To fix or not to fix.  That was the big question.

After a lot of conversations with several different people, we decided to fix it.  Dan called this morning and Honda was going to order the parts today.  (The parts are coming out of Iowa, which is in the midst of a snow storm at the moment.  Go figure.  Hopefully they won’t take too long to arrive, says the service rep.)

At this point, if all goes as planned (which it never seems to do in our case), the car will be ready by Saturday and Dan will drive his dad’s car back to St. Louis to retrieve it.  Then we’ll be back in business.

At least until the next disaster.

P.S.  There was a bit of a silver lining in all this…  The Little Boys got to spend more time with Grandma and Grandpa, and their cousins, while I got lots of sympathy and several great meals!

Sam and Joey

It’s what I keep telling myself and everyone that asks.  But, it’s still frustrating.

We’re stranded.  Yes, it’s at my in-laws (who have food, heat and a washer and dryer), but we’re still stranded.  Unable to get home and back to the things we need to get back to.

We came to St. Louis to visit family for the New Year.  On Saturday morning, we packed the van, stripped the beds, cleaned up after ourselves and were preparing to head over to our niece’s birthday party on the way out of town when we discovered that our van wouldn’t start.  This wouldn’t have been too disconcerting, except that two days previously, we had had a brand new battery installed.  So, it wasn’t something as simple as replacing the battery.

We made some calls to see who would be able to work on the van THAT day, so that despite being delayed, we’d still be able to head home to Chicago.  We ended up having the van towed to a nearby Honda dealer who told us they could work on it – they were open until 5 p.m., and the service manager thought that would give him enough time to diagnose the problem and make a repair.  Things were looking up!

A few updates later and things were looking expensive (go figure), but still doable.

Getting a jump on things, Dan had his dad bring him over to the dealership at 4:30, anticipating being able to pick up the finished van, get back, pack her up (again) and get a move on.  No such luck.  No luck at all, it turns out.  Not only was the van not finished, but the problem was WAY worse than anyone thought.  It’d be Tuesday at best, before the repair could be done, and cost several thousand dollars, to boot.

Happy F-ing New Year to us!!!

After much discussion and debate, we decided that Dan HAD to go to work and Jack and Maria really couldn’t afford to miss school.  So, at 6:40 a.m. on Sunday, Dan, Jack and Maria boarded a train bound for Chicago.  I stayed behind with Sam and Luke to wait on the van.

On Sunday, I ran out of deodorant, prenatal vitamins and the always-needed-while-pregnant-Tums.  And I had to do another load of laundry.  During which I shrunk to doll-size my newest, most comfortable bra EVER.  Also the only one I had with me, as we thought we’d only be here for two days.

Not only do I now have saggy boobs, but very COLD saggy boobs, as it’s 15 degrees here and dropping.

I’ve had one call from the dealer.  As of 11:35, they were taking things apart and were hoping to have an estimate for us sometime this afternoon.  So far:  nada.  Not looking good for a reasonable departure time tomorrow, IF it’s even ready tomorrow, is it?

Have I mentioned that a nasty storm system is headed our way beginning Wednesday?  Nothing like driving six hours through a snow storm with two young kids, is there?

So, while we could be stuck halfway home, missing work and school or paying for a hotel, it’s still a little hard for me to see the bright side of things right now.

Guess I can fill the day tomorrow with bra shopping… that should be fun a fun thing to do with The Little Boys.

The kids, of course, were thrilled.  Jack, especially.  He spent several hours outside this weekend building a snow fort. (Pictures to come.)

Yesterday afternoon, when our youngest little darling was sleeping, Dan took the other three to one of the area’s sledding hills.  In the peace and quiet, I was able to finish my book and talk to my sister.

Until Dan called.  “Call the pediatrican’s office,” he told me.  “Ha, ha,” I said, knowing he had to be messing with me.  (I like to tease him that he always seems to bring the kids back either muddy or bloody.)

“I’m not kidding,” he told me.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Maria hit her head on a fence post,” he told me.  “There’s already a HUGE goose egg on the back of her head.”

I hung up, called the ped’s office (which wasn’t open, of course) and then checked the hours at the urgent care clinic.  Dan came home, dropped the boys and headed off with Maria.  I got the story from the boys.  Apparently, Maria and Luke were headed down the hill, lost control, spun around, and Maria’s head hit the fence post and then Luke’s head smashed into her cheek.  Why there are fence posts so close to the sledding hill, I don’t know.  (Isn’t the purpose of a designated sledding hill to give kids a safe place to sled withOUT dangerous obstacles?)

The urgent care place sent Dan and Maria to the ER for a CT scan.  I tried to remain calm and felt pretty sure she was going to be fine, but as time wore on, I worried more and more.

Finally, Dan called in with a report – “Her brain is normal,” he told me.  (Interesting, considering this family ) I was relieved.

Her head is VERY tender and we’ve been applying ice regularly, dosing out the Motrin and coddling her.  She’s milking it for all it’s worth, so I know she’s going to be fine, even if she’s feeling quite stiff right now.

The fact that the injury is on the back of her head and impossible to see because of her hair is a little frustrating.  But, at least she doesn’t look like this:

Or this:

The doorbell rang late this morning – right around lunchtime – and I was delightfully surprised to see a flower delivery person standing on my doorstep with a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  My first thought, of course, was that they were for the neighbors.  But when the man used my name, I knew they were for me.  Whoopeeee!

I thought, “could these be from Dan?!?” but I dismissed that idea pretty quickly because a) he really doesn’t do that kind of thing; and b) it wasn’t a special occasion of any kind.

When I read the card I was surprised and thrilled to see that they were from my sister – just because!  How wonderful is that?  How can that not make you smile?

After emailing a “thank you” to my sis, I texted Dan.  Because, you know, I can’t resist a little needling.  I texted him that I’d received flowers today… had thought for a moment that they might be from him, but, alas, they weren’t.

He texted me back, “you won’t believe me, but I have flowers [for you] in my car right now.”  He was right, I didn’t believe him.  Later this evening, however, I discovered that he had, in fact, brought home some beautiful giant sunflowers.  (Whether he bought them before or after my text, we’ll never know for sure.  But, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.)

Never have I received two bouquets of flowers in one day.  (Okay, except may right after the birth of my first child).

More of The Good:

My dear friend Kristina called this afternoon and asked if Dan and I would be interested in being her soon-to-be-born baby girl’s Godparents.  Would we ever!?!  I was stunned and thrilled to be asked.  Truth be told, I have been praying for this baby waaaayyyyy before she was even a gleen in her daddy’s eye.  Kristina has wanted another baby practically since her now-4-year-old was weaned.  And, despite being a very happy boy mom, I’ve always known she’d be thrilled to have a baby girl.  Back in Clarksville, she was Maria’s surrogate mother, constantly showering her with girly things.

Anyway, not only have I been praying for this baby before she existed, but my children and I have been praying nightly for her since we knew she was on her way.  I cannot tell you how thrilled I am that the de Leeuws are adding to their family and that it’s a girl.  And to be the Godfamily?  It’s just icing on the cake.  Our family cannot wait to shower this new baby with love and fruffy things.  I only wish we were still living close together.

The Bad:

Running late for Karate (as usual) this afternoon, I quickly discovered that SOMEone (or ones) had left lights on in the van for oh, the last 12-18 hours or so.  So, for the second time in the last 5 days, I had to jump start the car.  Thankfully, our other vehicle was parked right next to the van and the jumper cables were within easy reach.  It only took a few minutes of connecting and disconnecting (and me shoving emerging kids back into the car) before we were on our way.

I got my workout in (love that free childcare!) while Jack had his class and then we headed for home.

Or tried to.  The van was dead again.

I called Dan to find out if he was home yet and to report our status.  He was just leaving the office.  (On most days, he’d be home or close to it by that time, but not today.)  Thankfully, there is a playground across the parking lot from the gym and we went over there while we waited it out.  About an hour later, Dan showed up, jumped the van and then he and Jack took off for Dan’s softball game.  Thinking that the van had died a second time because I hadn’t run it long enough on the way to Karate, I thought I should drive around a bit, despite the late hour.  “How about if we go get milkshakes at McDonald’s?”  I asked the kids, thinking a chocolate shake might help me drown my sorrows.

After receiving some sort of positive and deafening response, I turned the van around and headed to a McDonald’s that was a little out of the way.  I pulled to the window, ordered 4 chocolate shakes (yum!), pulled to the first window and paid.  It was less than I had expected, but then I’m no math wizard, so I paid and pulled up to the next window.

More of The Bad… and The Fattening

…where I was handed four hot fudge sundaes.

“That’s okay!” Luke announced when I expressed my dismay.  So, in the interest of efficiency, I sucked it up, said nothing and accepted the ice cream.  As I passed them out to the kids, I warned them to be careful.  (Whatever.  I have to at least try!)

We ate the sundaes as we drove home (yes, me too) and arrived in a somewhat more satisfied state than when we left.  At least, the kids were more satisfied.  Me?  If I’m going to pack on the pounds, I’d like it to be with something I really want.  And, I really wanted a chocolate shake, dammit.  Not a fudge sundae.

Oh, well.  There’s beer in the house.

Here are a few pics from the weekend.  The highlights were swiming and visiting Grant’s Farm.  Cousins are so awesome – so wish we had more time with all the cousins on both sides of the family!

Cousin Joey, poolside

Samma Jamma

Cousin Matt

Sean feeding the goats

Goat feeding on Maria

Paige and Sam

Jack and One Big Horse

I’m talking about the other kind…

Have you ever heard of redlightviolations.com?  Well, neither had I.  Until I opened my mail yesterday and found that I had received a Red Light Violation Notice, courtesy of the nice folks over in Villa Park.

The notice came on high quality stock and included two dated, time-stamped photos – in full color – of my van making a right-hand turn at an intersection.  On red.  There was also a nice blown up photo of my license plate. (I’m sure this was just in case someone else out there has Uppercase Living information posted all over the back of their gray Honda Odyessy van and I didn’t believe it was mine.)

In case the photos didn’t convince me of my criminal actions, I was informed I could go to redlightviolations.com, enter my information and watch a video of my transgression.  Of course I did.  I looked carefully for signs of video editing, hoping for proof that I’d been framed, but no such luck.  There was my van, zipping along, making a right turn on red.  Oh, the horror!

Next, I looked in vain for some type of proof that it was DAN driving and not me.  No dice there, either.  The conveniently provided date and time stamp proved it… I was the culprit.  I had been running to Wal-Mart to kill time between school and the kids’ dentist appointment.  It was raining, so a quick trip to the park had been out of the question.  I remember the day perfectly.  Dammit.

Now, in my defense, it isn’t like I just blew through an intersection, ignoring a red light, risking the lives of myself, my children and others on the street.  No.  I simply turned right on red while the opposing traffic was turning on a green arrow.  Not a big deal, right?  I mean, you can see my break lights in the video, so at least I slowed down…

Any guesses to how much this fancy-schmancy high-tech ticket cost me?

Come on.

Guess.

ONE HUNDRED F-ING DOLLARS!

Hello! I guess I won’t be getting mulch for the front yard any time soon.  OUCH.  SUPER OUCH.

I wonder if I at least get a copy of the video?  As a commemorative gift?  Doubtful.  I’d send you all to the website to see it, but a) I don’t want to support these f-ers and b) I can’t possibly give you all my personal information to get in to see the video.

I’ve been stewing about this “violation” since I received it.  And I’m mad about the money.  But I’m also a little creeped out, ya know?  I mean, I don’t think I like beings seen and videoed without my knowledge.  I don’t like that there are people “out there” watching me.  I know they aren’t watching all the time (heck, DFS hasn’t come knocking on the door yet)* but still… even some cameras being out there is kind of spooky, dontcha think?

I kind of feel like the Kit Ramsey in “Bowfinger”.  Or Truman in “The Truman Show”.  Or Ozzy in “The Osbournes”.  No, wait, scratch that one… he knows he’s being taped, right? (Idiot.)

So far we’ve really liked it here in Chicagoland.  And Dan likes what he’s doing.  But about now, I’m a little homesick for rural Missouri and the contacts and privlidges I had there…

I have until June 8 to pay or contest the violation.  So, please, feel free to leave a comment with your ideas for contesting it, or simply send money.  (Sending money is probably best.)

*Kidding!!!

I got up and dragged myself to the kitchen where I poured apple juice for my two youngest.  One then returned to the bedroom where the TV was already blaring, while the other ate some Frosted Mini-Wheats at the kitchen table.  I think I managed to feed one more child before the phone rang.  It was The Tax Dan.

Before he could utter two words, however, Sam came up behind me and began jumping up and down, hanging on my jeans pocket and yelling.  I set the phone down, picked him up, and deposited him on a chair in another room screamed at him gave him a stern warning not to interrupt me again.

Back to the phone. On his way to work, Dan told me, he realized that although we had filed an extension for the feds, we’d failed to file one for the state of Illinois.  Could I handle that?

Hahahahahahaha.  Sure!  No problemo!  After all, one child was still in bed.  I only had three running around like banshees.  Of course I could look up the information, write a check, print the form, get it in an envelope, find a stamp and mail it all.  Easy.

I found the form I needed easily enough and sent it to print.  Hopscotching over kids and toys, I headed to the basement to retrieve it from the printer.  While there, I also fed the cat and cleaned his box.  I grabbed the form and headed back up, encountering screams from Maria that Luke had stolen her necklace, thrown it across the room and lost it.  I walked past the milieu, out the back door and to the trashcan to deposit the cat’s gifts.  Luke followed me out in his socks, yelling that he hadn’t done anything wrong.  I ignored him and told him to go find his sister’s necklace.

Jack came bounding down the stairs about that time, zooming his Lego planes through the air (with sound effects) which he had been upstairs building when I thought he was still in bed.  It didn’t take long for one of the planes to crash, resulting in tiny Lego pieces all over the kitchen.

I asked Jack what he wanted for breakfast and he reported that he’d like oatmeal, but RED oatmeal, because, “blah, blah, blah Star Wars, blah.”  Red oatmeal?  Fine.

I put some water in the microwave and hollered at the kids not to touch the space heater in my room so as not to blow the fuse.  While the water was heating up, as was my stress level, I looked over at the chocolate cake that was sitting in the cake saver, left over from Easter dinner.  It was begging me to eat it.  It begged me all day yesterday, too.  What to do?

I just couldn’t. Take it.  Anymore.

Cake for breakfast.

So I served it up to the kids.  “Cake for breakfast?!?”  They asked, delightedly.  “Yep,” I told them.  “Eat it all,” I added.  And they did.  Thank goodness.

Soon after, Jack’s oatmeal was ready.  I added the red, just like he had asked.  I gave it to him and watched the expression on his face as he looked at it.  “Eat it.  You asked for it.  It tastes the same,” I told him.  He didn’t look too enthused as he took the smallest bite possible.  I didn’t blame him… it looked like some sort of bloody pulp out of a horror flick.  No way in hell I would have touched it.  Even if it did taste the same.

Let them eat cake! So I don't.

I glanced at the clock.  9:07 a.m. Heaven help me.

I was still trying to get the tax stuff together and get a stamp on the envelope.  I hollered at everyone to get shoes and jackets on, as we needed to leave soon to take Maria to her friend’s house.  Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing, grabbed their jackets and put there shoes on.  Right.

I finished the tax project (might not seem like a “project” to you, but with four kids, ANY task is a project).

I hustled the kids out the door and into the van, grabbed my keys, thought I grabbed the item I needed to return to Target, and headed out.  We sat in the driveway for several minutes while Maria cried because she couldn’t remember Emily’s last name and I needed her last name to look her up in the book to get her address and punch it into the GPS.  Meanwhile, Luke was having what looked like epileptic seizures because he couldn’t get his seat belt straightened out.  (Does anti-seizure medication work on the self-induced kind?)  Finally, after looking at every Emily in the book, we were on our way.  Two houses down, though, I stopped, backed up, jumped out (taking the keys with me), ran into the house and retrieved the forgotten Target return.

We found Emily’s house in the next town over pretty easily.  I oooooed and awwwwwed over the very charming, very beautiful 100-year old house.  Exactly what we don’t have, but really wanted.  I spent too long chatting with Emily’s mom and the next thing I knew, Jack and Luke had escaped from the car and were running up onto the porch.  At least they hadn’t liberated Sam.

I said my good-byes, got the boys back in the car and we headed to Target.  Or so I thought.  Rather than making my way there as I knew how, I told my GPS where I wanted to go, thinking it would give me a faster route.  Instead, it took me to Costco which USED to be a Target.  You’d think I’d have noticed what was happening, but I was busy messing with my iPhone’s iPod which wasn’t shuffling the songs like it’s supposed to.  Instead, it was playing the same song over and over and over and over.  I think Sam broke it yesterday when he was listening to Sheryl Crowe’s “Real Gone” from Cars.  Over and over and over and over again.  In the hall at Karate.  Belting out the words with her.  (I’m pretty sure that IF people want to hear the song they’d like to hear it unaccompanied by my 2-year-old.) I swear, I was stuck in the Twilight Zone.  Driving around in circles, the same song playing over and over…

Eventually, I turned off the GPS and my iPhone and made it to Target.  We got what we needed then wondered over to the bike aisle, since Jack is getting a new bike for his upcoming birthday.  We tried on some helmets until Jack got tired of that, spotted the bicycle horns and honked away.  LOUDLY.  I asked him nicely to return it to the shelf I grabbed it away from him, tossed it back onto the shelf and we quickly left the store.  But not without almost stealing a Lightening McQueen bicycle helmet that Lukie had nabbed and stuck under the cart.

I forced the boys to play outside upon returning home and popped some corn dogs into the oven for lunch.  When they were finished, I ushered the kids inside, stood over them while they chowed down and then, unbelievably, it was time to go get Maria.

I seriously don’t know how I’m going to survive the rest of the week.  And, Dear, Lord.  What am I going to do this summer?!?!