Like Putting the Shrink on Speed Dial

Posted on February 22, 2011 by Jennie

My mother and I have a good relationship, now. However, we didn’t get along so well during my teenage years and into my early 20′s. And, by “not so well” I mean “who can scream louder?”

Not until I had kids did I decide that she was maybe okay. Maybe. And no, it wasn’t because of the whole “oh, you just wait until you have kids, you’ll understand!” thing but, because I wanted my kids to be close with their grandma. And they are. And I still don’t undertand.

They are so close, in fact, that Hunter is convinced he will be moving his entire family in with her when he is grown. Despite my efforts, he doesn’t see how this sort of living arrangement could possibly have any negative effect on his marriage. Poor little fella.

There’s a lot of truth to the theory that kids and parents who are the most alike don’t get along. Is that actually a known theory or did I just pull that out of my ass? Either way, it makes sense. I’m sticking with it. Don’t think I’m taking this lightly. To admit that I’m like my mother is like putting the shrink on speed dial. No one wants to admit or believe it, but it’s damn well gonna happen eventually so suck it up and thank God for prescription medication- and vodka.

The truth is, the older I get, the more like her I am. Losing my keys and frantically searching the house with the kids is more the rule than the exception these days. Getting lost while driving to the grocery store that I go to every week is more common than I’d like to admit and going through the checkout line with nothing but a bottle of Beano doesn’t even phase me anymore.

With every year I get older, the less I give a damn about what other people think of me. The more I find out about myself and my kids, and the more I desire to just be. That’s right, just be. My favorite part about getting older? I finally like myself. I never disliked myself, but now… I really like myself.

And that, I could get used to.

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A Real Dilemma

Posted on February 16, 2011 by Jennie

There’s something about the words “clean your room” that instantly turns a five year old into something that closely resembles the Tasmanian Devil on crack and energy drinks. As a result, also turns his mother into something like a grizzly bear in a glass factory.

Getting Hunter’s room clean is an all day process. Literally. You’d think the concept of picking up after himself would have sank in about, oh, 2 years ago – about the time he started cleaning his own room – but you’d be wrong. I’m not unrealistic or irrational, I don’t expect it to be white glove clean. Hell, I don’t even expect to be able to walk across the floor without stepping on a handful of toys. When there’s furniture floating on top of toys and other furniture, though… umm, yeah.

When we have company, I feel like I should run to the store and buy some yellow “DO NOT ENTER” tape to wrap around the door to avoid a law suit or save a life. You can never be too careful. Also, it would take at least a week to find a dead body in all that mess.

Yesterday was dreaded room cleaning day. I mentioned it right after breakfast, as I always do knowing full well it will be close to bed time before the floor peaks out from under all of the one armed army men and headless Barbie dolls. (Oh no! Whatever you do, don’t alert Dr. Phil!)

Amidst all of the screaming and yelling and “I don’t wanna clean my room!!”s, I hear “MOM! I can’t find my other shoe!” This is when I take the opportunity to say, “All the more reason to get your room clean” Hunter didn’t like that answer, he responded with “But I can’t! I need my shoe!” At this point, I’m thoroughly irritated. If it’s not one thing it’s another – anything to get out of cleaning for 3 seconds. So I say, “Hunter, get back in your room right this minute and finish cleaning it!” In a nice, calm, friendly voice, of course.

I could see the wheels turning, the smoke billowing out of his ears. Would he decide to press the issue? Damn right he would. This is MY kid. He finishes by saying, “Mom, I don’t think you understand. I need somewhere to put my shoes, I can’t ever find them. I need a Shoes Under.”

How can you argue with that logic?

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Sweet Cheeks

Posted on February 14, 2011 by Jennie

There’s something deep within my genes that causes me to produce, slim, slender, petite, delicate, dainty babies. I can say it’s on my side because I’ve seen Scott’s baby pictures.

Hunter and Sophie both had very slender faces. No rolls, no mushy, gushy, baby goodness.

Then, came Ruby…

I didn’t know what I was missing, I can’t get enough of those cheeks. I’m like the aunt that everyone hates. You know the one, “ooohh, goootchy, goootchy, gooo… PEACHES!” Yeah, you know you do.

Things are different with baby cheeks. It creates a whole extra step in the bath, moving her head around so I can get under all of those little chin-rolls. Not to mention the extra attention it takes to keep Sophie from pinching them. No one can prepare you for the look that a baby gets when her sister pokes her eye she gets hurt, it’s impossible not to pick them up and snuggle them close. The look of a baby with puffy cheeks, though? God save me now.

Up Mike’s Hiney to See the Sunrise

Posted on February 7, 2011 by Jennie

My head has been up Mike’s hiney. Yep, that’s right. Up Mike’s hiney.

My dad used to say “Up Mike’s hiney to see the sunrise” when I was little and asked him where he was going. He also used to say it was “cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.” That’s another story for another day.

I feel like I’ve been camped out up Mike’s hiney waiting for the sun to rise for the better part of a month now. The damn thing just won’t come up. So, I’m making the executive decision to relieve Mike from his presumably incredibly uncomfortable state and remove myself from his rear.

Please, Mike, refrain from expressing your excitement by doing the Hammer dance until I am completely removed from your hiney. Thank you.

For those of you who have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, let me clarify. I’ve been an ass. A boring, lame, depressed, cranky, tired, fat, flubby, miserable ass. There are some things I can’t change, like me being an ass, but the boring, lame, yadda yadda part of it, I can. And, I will. HOORAH.

I’ve taken the fun out of blogging and I’m putting my foot down. As soon as I remove the baby from my boob, that it. Okay, now I’m putting my foot down.

Wait, the word “fun” isn’t in the word “blogging.” Hmm. Something to think about.

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Santa’s Sled Was in the Shop

Posted on February 2, 2011 by Jennie

Today I realized that I never published a Christmas post. You know, one with pictures of all of us sitting around the Christmas tree drinking our morning coffee, hair all ‘did’, reindeer sweaters on, and of course, freshly showered and opening presents ever so carefully.

No knocks upside the head, please. I was just a smidge busy having a little something called a baby.

So, because I’ve got a sleeping 4 week old on my lap farting like she just ate the eggs benedict at our local truck stop, another running around the house with one end of the toilet paper roll in her hand and the other attached to the dispenser in the bathroom, a pot of water boiling over on the stove, my car alarm going crazy because Hunter thought it’d be fun to play with my keys, and about 300 emails that I’ve been conveniently ignoring for the last few days to go through – you’re going to get the fastest. post. ever.

Ready? Don’t blink.

Note to self: Try not to be a camera whore so you can actually be in front of the lense from time to time.

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Take a Little Trip

Posted on January 28, 2011 by Jennie

It’s no secret how I feel about field trips. I loathe them. They are like a tic, digging at my skin and sucking on my blood. Not to say I don’t want my kids to have them… I do. I just don’t want to go.

I love taking my kids new places, exploring with them, watching them learn. I don’t love taking them and 20 other kids.

Today is field trip day at Hunter’s preschool – it’s at a dentist’s office. Come on, really? The zoo I could handle, the fire station was even kind of cool, but a fucking dentist’s office? If your kid doesn’t know what a toothbrush is by 5, you’ve got bigger problems then being forced to go on a lame field trip.

So, somehow… some way… I have to figure out how in the hell I’m going to get a shower today before noon so we can make it on time to see the damn tooth fairy at his private office suite. Say a little prayer for me.

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With a Rocket Strapped to Her Back

Posted on January 27, 2011 by Jennie

As we settle into this new life, we are learning more and more everyday about our newest addition. How cute she is when she sleeps, how her little smile leans ever so slightly to one side, how her big blue eyes adorably dart back and forth in curiosity when she’s awake. Also, how she could easily blow her father away in a farting contest.

At times, I’m afraid I just may lose her. She weighs in at just about 8 lbs now, and with gas equivelant to strapping a rocket to her back, I fear she might just take off on her own and blow away. The first couple of weeks after we brought her home, Scott thought I was using her as a cover up for my own gas. I only wish I had a horn like that.

The ability to turn heads is a gift all three of my children have. Hunter’s farts were so loud as a baby that, once when we were in a restaurant, I had to get up and take him to the bathroom I was so embarassed. When I stood up from the booth, the family next to us started laughing and explained that they thought it was Scott the whole time. Scott, of course, tried his best to convince them it was actually me. An opportunity to embarass never goes to waste around here.

One has to wonder how cheeks that tiny could produce such an enormous, deep, rumbling sound. Also, I can’t quite figure out where she holds all of that air. Not that I’m complaining, it’s a sure-fire way to repel all of those “ohh, look at that cute little baby! Goochy, goochy, goo…!” while 2 inches from her face jackasses. It’s a gift only God could have blessed her with. A marvelous one.

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ADHD is Giving Me a Headache

Posted on January 26, 2011 by Jennie

As most of you know, my son was diagnosed with ADHD last summer. It wasn’t news that came as a shock to us, more that we just weren’t prepared for the decisions that followed.

We have been experimenting with the different treatment options for several months now which, by the way, is a rather depressing process. Just when you think a medicine is working, it stops. When you think “oh, this is the one”, it isn’t. People keep telling me that this is the longest, hardest part of the process and to be patient. In the meantime, however, I’m watching my son lose weight, eat less, and lose sleep. All the while, still bouncing off the walls.

Treatment isn’t something I was overly anxious about anyway. The truth of the matter is, though, it’s best for many different reasons. First and foremost, it greatly reduces his chances of inheriting the alcoholism that runs thick in both Scott’s family and mine. Also, his ability to learn, to have relationships, to concentrate on just about anything is virtually impossible right now. Without treatment of some sort, he lives his life about 100 steps ahead of the present. Meaning, his mind is not where his body is. This causes him to trip and fall about every other step he takes, he starts sentences and never completes them because he forgets what he is talking about, and he has difficulty learning because he is unable to concetrate on what the teacher is saying – if his mind is present for the lesson at all.

The medicines used to treat ADHD, even in children, are narcotics. It’s not like experimenting with Flinstone vitamins. They take a toll on him, even under close doctor supervision. Part of me, the “mom” part, just wants to give up. Just wants to stop them all together and have my son back. The rational part of me, however, says that would be selfish. The older he gets, the more important it will be for him to be on a treatment plan for the reasons listed above.

Some say that finding the right medicine could take several months, maybe even a year. I wasn’t prepared for this part when we first heard the news. Naively, I thought the doc would hand us a prescription and my little boy would magically be better the next day. Really. I was way off.

So, we continue on our journey to find the right treatment for him. I do believe that we’ve found the right medicine, finally, we just need to work on the correct dose now. Hopefully.

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It’s 5 O’Clock Somewhere

Posted on January 21, 2011 by Jennie

Some things in life just aren’t justifiable with words. My morning is one of those things.
A picture montage of today, all prior to 9 am…

See the marker on his face? Courtesy of Sophie.

Guilty conscience?

This room was clean last night.

Understandably, you might think she was homeless.

Begging for fruit snacks – or, er, screaming for fruit snacks.

One of the few times she actually doesn’t have gas.

One down… two to go.

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Jennie Funkhouser

Mom. Wife. Blogger.

Category Archives: Family

Like Putting the Shrink on Speed Dial

A Real Dilemma

Sweet Cheeks

Up Mike’s Hiney to See the Sunrise

Santa’s Sled Was in the Shop

Take a Little Trip

With a Rocket Strapped to Her Back

ADHD is Giving Me a Headache

It’s 5 O’Clock Somewhere