so, it's been established that my house is crazy and i am privy to some ridiculous conversations. this is what i am listening to/talking about right now:
amazingly, all five kids are sitting in the living room coloring lightning mc queen papers from a kit that dennis received as a present yesterday.
i look over the crowd and say "those are cool. who got those for you, dennis?" dennis ignores me. thomas answers "someone." thanks for that informative answer, tom.
ps - i don't know who it's from, because the boys took it upon themselves to open the gifts at some random point in out little party last night, with no adults around. thanks to all who give him gifts, but i have no idea who gave what.
while thomas and i have this conversation, dennis is saying "this is my masterpiece," cara is saying "i got puple (which is purple, and no shit, cara, it's the ONLY color you EVER use. ever.)" and jack is saying "i want glitter and candy!" for real. that is what my five year old boy is saying.
i thought i would share another amusing little anecdote from this weekend. saturday, our car (the only car available that seats all of our family at one time) broke down. something about the transmission. needless to say, with daddy not working, mommy had a little breakdown. thankfully my mom (who has previously been mentioned as the best mom ever) came through for me again and i was able to relax somewhat and enjoy myself at the baby shower for my cousin lisa (woo hoo! shout out!) that we had on sunday.
while sitting at a table with family outside, i feel something buzzing around the fake flower on the headband i am wearing. i swat at it, and with my impeccable aim, flick a bee down the front of my shirt (damn cleavage!!!). i shake out the shirt, and mistakenly think i get rid of the bee. a few minutes later, i feel something tickling my side and go to scratch it. as i put my hand on my side, i am thinking in my head "STOP! IT'S THE BEE! STOP NOW!" but apparently, my hand didn't care. yup. i squeal because i get stung by the bee and then start crying laughing because it's so ridiculous. meanwhile, no one knows why i yelled or why i am laughing, because no one knows about the bee in the first place. by the time i am able to get the whole story out, everyone was pretty much laughing, 'cause really, who flicks a bee down their shirt?!?! now, i have a big itchy welt that spans my side from the back of my hip around to my stomach. did i mention i'm allergic to bee stings?
good times, good times...
8pm in the rafter household on the longest day of my life...
dennis has been crying and saying "play doh" for about 45 minutes but he is not allowed to play with it again tonight, since i have already vacuumed up the day's mess and fed everyone dinner and dessert and cleaned that up, too. in his tear-induced delirium, he decides to haul off and throw a full red "little hug" drink at thomas, who is sitting on the living room floor. i am in the process of waking the girl's up while changing their pull-ups to put them to bed (ps - tommy has been doing two different side jobs since about 7am. yay for work. boo for my day of single motherhood). i send jack up to go to the bathroom and get pajamas on. this is the conversation that takes place (while i clean the red juice off the floor, change the girls as they cry and try to block out dennis' screaming):
me: put some jammies on while you are up there
jack (who is 5): can you help me? (see above for why that was not on my list of things to do at this moment)
me: jack, come on, just put pajamas on
jack: what if i do it wrong again and get two pants?
me: look at the pajamas and if you have two pants, put one back and get a shirt
jack: it's hard to tell
me: pants have two holes for legs. shirts have two hole for arms. laughter (because, really, what else is there? this was a dead-serious conversation i had to participate in)
around 10 minutes later, jack comes down in a pair of underwear, carrying christmas striped pj pants and one of thomas' t-ball shirts. meh...he got a shirt and a pair of pants. it counts.
now, i'm off to yell at the boys to "be quiet and not wake the girls" and take a nice, big helping of benadryl and go to bed.