Stellar Parenting Going on Over Here

My kids are pantless.  Well, only two of them.  But it's 25 degrees outside, and I strongly feel that they should be wearing pants.  "But mom!  We don't have any!"  Ugh.  That's right. It's time for a Stellar Parenting Post.

Technically, I'm only responsible for one of the pantless kids' pantless predicament.  Technically, Jules (who is 13 and thankfully wearing pants) is supposed to wash the clothing of Jasper (who is not wearing pants).  But Jules tends to wash clothes very rarely, a result of the fact that he changes clothes very rarely (I know - more stellar parenting on my part!) and so Jasper runs out of clothes all the time.

Officially, I am responsible for Camille's laundry.  Officially, I have not been home very much.  Officially, I have done laundry, and it has ended up in baskets, on the folding counter, in piles on beds and couches, and unfortunately, occasionally right back in the laundry after ending up on the floor from a basket, counter, bed, or couch, and then being made into a nest by the dog.  So officially, Camille might actually have clean pants.  Somewhere.

I am feeling less than stellar about this.  I am feeling less than stellar about a lot of things.  My house is a mess.  And last night, after returning home from a full day in the city that involved jazz, piano, and ballet classes for Not Me....I discovered a pile of dishes and was told, "Hey Mom.  The sink won't drain."  Again.

This is a bummer.  I've had a busy week and it is not even officially half over.  My busy week included taking my dad in for surgery, only to discover, as I waited in the crowded waiting room, that I wasn't feeling too good.  After he was in recovery, I left him in my sister's care and headed home, where I made it as far as the parking lot of a Hyatt Regency Hotel before pulling over to puke.  Since I was in my dad's car, I actually vacated the vehicle to do so - seeing as how his car, unlike my own, had never been puked in and I didn't want to be the one to christen it.  I couldn't believe it was happening to me.  Believe me, folks, it has been a very long time since I've puked in a parking lot....last time was a Stray Cats concert, if I am correct, and it was in the early '80's.  I tried to be delicate and ladylike and discreet, but all I could think of was the tourists looking out their windows and seeing my unpleasant, "Welcome to San Antonio, Folks!"   I made it almost all the way home before I realized I had my dad's stuff with me, and he was spending the night in the hospital.  I had to turn around and drive all the way back to the hospital before I could finally head home to deposit myself in my bed, at which point, the laundry had sex and multiplied by the thousands and the plumbing went on strike. 

Luckily, my 24-hour bug didn't even last the full 24 - although I did milk a couple of extra hours out of it (don't tell anybody). 

Anyway, I am feeling less than stellar about the pantless kids, because they don't have any clean pants and because, in general, they aren't getting as much attention as I feel they should.  My homeschool group that I don't really have time to participate in had a query about unit studies posted to it's discussion board.  Unit studies! I thought.  I freaking love unit studies.  Let's see....Joel did a unit study on Native Americans, Ellie did a Unit Study based on Laura Ingalls, Ellie did a Unit Study based on Harry Potter, Joel and Ellie did a Unit Study on Czech History, there was Ellie's study on Presidential Elections....there was.....ABSOLUTELY NO UNIT STUDY BUSINESS GOING ON WITH THE OTHER THREE KIDS. 

Okay, so Jules hasn't fared too terribly.  He participated in Readers Theater (I have pictures to prove it!) and he's done some....other stuff....that will come to me later....I'm sure.   But Camille and Jasper?  Not so much.  I am
a) Tired and occasionally puking
and
b) Busy with the original unit studies pupils, one of whom is attempting to do high school level work (real work) for the first time in his life, and the other of whom is busy getting into college (and yes! she's getting scholarships!). 

So, to recap, no clean clothes....no unit studies....dirty dishes.  Is that all the stellar parenting going on?  Nope.  Not by a long shot.  It also seems that my morals are sinking.  That's right.  Totally sinking.

Last weekend we faced the Texas Arctic Blast!! (that's what the news programs call it - every single time it happens....I love it) to head to the University of North Texas for Ellie's audition to the Music School. We had only Ellie and Camille with us (Camille likes to tell people she has separation anxiety, and Camille is 9, by the way) but the boys were home with a babysitter.  Joel found this to be completely humiliating, but the last time I left them alone, he broke his brother's hand. 

Anyway, everyone kept telling us they would surely cancel the auditions due to the Texas Arctic Blast!! but they didn't, because they had over 300 kids flying in from every continent, many of whom surely found the Texas Arctic Blast!! to be monumentally unimpressive and underwhelming.  But no matter how whimpy the Texas Arctic Blast!! was compared to other parts of the nation's regular winter weather, the truth is that Texas is completely unprepared to handle such weather, and so, we tend to shut her down, folks.  Roads close, schools close, businesses close....the last thing you want is a herd-o-Texans trying to drive on icy streets....'taint a pretty sight.  But we did it, because the auditions were not cancelled. 

UNT is a 7-hour drive for us (Texas is a big place) under the best of circumstances.  It is a longer drive under worse.  But we made it there in one piece, seeing very little death and destruction along the way.  Seeing none, in fact.  Most Texans were shivering inside their homes in their shorts and flip-flops while watching the Texas Arctic Blast!! 24-hour news coverage on their televisions. 

But I was talking about slipping morals, wasn't I? I'm sure it happened somewhere about the time we quit going to church....but seriously....that is just a coincidence.  But the bottom line is, a person can only stand so many hours of Raffi or Barney in the car.  Now Ellie and Joel, Unit Study Children Extraordinaire, never heard a dang thing but Barney or Raffi in the car.  They had delicate virginal ears and I felt dedicated to protecting them.  Until I couldn't take it anymore.  And that happened around the birth of the third kid.

So off we go to UNT, braving the blast and listening to all sorts of Non-Child-Friendly music.  The Pixies, Pearl Jam, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Nirvana, Jane's Addiction and more....while Camille bounced her sad little head except for when she complained, "No!  Not John Frusciante!!  Please!!"  Okay, Ellie also complained, "This music is lame and OLD!!"  That's right....she's the kid who mostly listens to the music of Dead People....and I'm not talking about dead because they OD'ed on recreational drugs....I'm talking dead because nobody lives to be 300 or 400 years old kind of dead.  Sheesh - she doesn't even see the humor in it.

Where was I?  Oh yeah...., my standards dropped so low that, by the end of the trip, we were only skipping songs that had the F-Word or the M-F-Word.  And occasionally, we wouldn't skip soon enough, and Ellie would say, "Stellar Parenting...."  And then there is what is now known as the Famous Nimrod's Son line (the Pixies) although technically, that one happened a couple of years ago....

Me:  Jeff, is the next song okay?  Any profanity?

Jeff:  Nah, it's okay.

Me:  You're not really a lyric guy, you sure?

Jeff:  Yeah...

The Pixies: He is the son of a mother-(fill in the blank)

Jeff:  Oops.

Me:  That's a profound statement when you think about it....

Ellie:  Stellar Parenting

Little People:  Can we stop for candy?

Parents:  Sure!! You can have anything you want! Just name it! (because maybe that would help???)

Ahhh...the memories....Ellie pleasantly recalled how she and Joel were so protected but that by the time Jules came along, his favorite toddler song had the lines, "Skeeter and the Monkey Man were hard up for cash, up all night selling cocaine and hash...."  God he loved that song.  And here we had little Camille in the backseat on the way to UNT dodging F-bombs for 7 hours. We really shouldn't reproduce anymore.

STELLAR. PARENTING. 

We can only assume, that if the current trajectory holds up, Jasper will be sitting in front of the television in a couple of years, consuming a six-pack while a cigarette smolders in the ashtray and Cheaters plays on TV. 

Okay, I'm off to search for pants.  Because really, it's the least I can do.
Sardine Mama (aka Mother of the Year)

Pets and the Therapeutic Benefits of Canibalism

Below is another charming aspect of life in the country. This occupied the kids for awhile. I'm pretty sure it is poisonous.

OK - I have a friend who is often stating the obvious. And it is apparently a necessary compulsion if you're going to be friends with ME. Last night Jeff was on a business trip so my friend and her kids came over for dinner. She was reading my blog and she goes, "uh....as for the toilet seat ads being related to the content of your blog? You thank people for visiting the can." And I'm like, "So?"

"So, what makes that funny?"

"Well, visit the can. The can - you know - its a toilet - OH I GET IT!"

Man, I hate it when that happens. This particular friend used to work at NASA and not as a janitor, either. She had something to do with the design of the International Space Station. I'd tell you what but she's never really bothered to explain it to me seeing as how she's so busy explaining obvious things like the connection between "can" and "toilet". She took almost all of my tomatoes (and 2 of my kids) with her but other monsters were out there ripening on the vine just as fast as they could. I imagined one of the big "butt" tomatoes as the ringleader yelling, "Come on boys! We can't lose our lead! Her kitchen counters are almost cleared of our comrades! Intensify your efforts and focus!" Then they all started turning red, I'm sure. I imagine I'll meet them later this morning.

Yesterday I took our puppies to the vet for their second round of shots. We constantly have people dumping dogs out here in the country. This is quite a problem. We usually find homes for the dogs or take them to a dog rescue. But we kept 2 of the 4 puppies who were dumped here a little over a month ago. They look to be part Cow Dog and part Australian Sheep Hound. They are really cute and have very calm personalities. This is necessary. The calm part. Because I cannot handle anymore hysteria than I already get on a daily basis around here. The dogs are named Ranger and Scout. I had to approve the names. I'm not thrilled with Ranger and Scout as it reminds me of Bruce and Demi (their kids are Rumer and Scout) but I could not handle another pet named Brownie, Blackie, Whitey, Pinky, etc. Talk about stating the obvious! The kids always named their pets according to their colors.

Joel and Jules are rodent lovers and had 2 gerbils, once. Blackie met a horrific fate when he was stepped on by Hunter, one of the boys' friends. He didn't die but was partially paralyzed. That was a sad and depressing sight. He lived quite a long time in this condition and the boys still played with him all the time. He didn't appear to be uncomfortable at all and I suspect he had no feeling. But oh man that little rat could dampen an otherwise happy atmosphere by dragging his little legs behind him. And I can't begin to describe the guilt Hunter lived with. Anyway, Blackie eventually died but it was after an average gerbil lifespan. His partner, however, Witey Wotsun, (my boys are phonetic spellers), lived to be like a trillion gerbil years-old. He was ancient and looked every minute of it but all his limbs worked until the day he died. When he finally passed away the boys were devastated for a few minutes but then became very enthusiastic about the funeral. They decided on a Viking theme and Witey Wotsun was buried in his little house with all of his personal belongings stuffed in there with him for the trip to the After Life. In lieu of flowers, the boys requested a guinea pig.

Anyway - back to the dogs. They are bothering our other dog, Schnitzel (who was also dumped out here 12 years ago) because she is THE QUEEN. She is part wiener dog and part something with a really big neck, making it impossible for her to keep a collar on because her head is so much smaller than her neck. She understands every word of the English language. She considers Joel's and Jules' room to be her room. If her food bowl is empty and she's looking at me, I tell her, "Don't look at me. Go talk to your brother." And then she goes and stares at Jules who eventually gets up and feeds her. She is THE BIG DAWG when it comes to rodent killing and, living on a farm, this is a great characteristic in a dog, especially since we have a cat who has never even walked fast, much less chased anything. The boys have explained to Schnitzel about their pet rodents. She doesn't trust the guinea pigs, but she is nothing if not loyal to The Joels, so she doesn't mess with them. She often throws them looks, though. You can tell she's thinking, "You are soooooo lucky. If it weren't for these boys watching over you....." Notice how she is the only dog inside on a fluffy pillow?

Ellie isn't much into animals. She refuses to eat them but that is about as close as she gets to being an animal lover. But one time she decided to adopt some hamsters from a friend. The critical word here is "some". As in two supposedly boys. One of them predictably turned out to be a girl and we very soon found ourselves overrun by dwarf hamsters. We had a cage in every room. It took us months to find enough victims (I mean pet lovers) to take them all.

I remember going into my laundry room one time to wash yet another load and I was thinking how my life consisted of nothing but laundry and dishes. I heard a little squeak from the hamster cage on my folding counter (I told you we had them in every room) and there was the latest new mother. She was literally hanging from the bars of her cage. I kid you not. She was hanging by her little hands and 3 babies were hanging off of her chest while the others ran around beneath her feet waiting for her to drop. I was still breastfeeding at the time and Jasper was wrapped around my leg begging for "na-na" while I held a load of dirty clothes in my arms. The hamster and I locked eyes. We shared a silent moment of deep connection. We were both frantic. I often felt like climbing the walls and certainly would have been hanging from my ceiling had it been physically possible.



The next day I went into the laundry room and peeked in at my rodent sister. She looked happy and peaceful. She was lying in her little nest with a grin on her face and I swear she had a margarita in one hand and a book in the other. Her feet were crossed. She yawned and stretched...."Hey!" I yelled. "Where are your kids?"



She looked at me as if to say innocently, "What kids?"

That's right. SHE ATE THEM.

And that's when I realized that there was only one way to achieve rest and relaxation under my current circumstances. And quite frankly, I just didn't have the appetite for it : ).

Later!
Sardine Mama