Oooh Reeealy?

Didn't I say I'd be right back with some "better you than me" moments for your enjoyment?

Today, my 12 year old son came home with something that looks a whole lot like a hickey. Cue absolute mortification.

Of course, he says it's totally not a hickey, because that would just be wrong. Oh no, he says a girl just pinched his neck when they were playing around at school. Yeah, those lies didn't work when I was young, either.

So now he's upset because I told him I don't believe him. Now he believes we're at an impasse. I explained that A) he's too young for this crap and B) even if he weren't too young for this crap, that defacing someone's body is plain wrong. I told him that if I see another mark on him, or find that he left one on someone else, I will hold a press conference with his teacher, the girl's mother, and the school paper.

There have been plenty of times he's done stupid things, and lied to avoid trouble. This, however, is the first time he hasn't eventually told the truth. That bothers me. A lot.

Well, Hellloooo

No, I haven't forgotten about my blog. I've just been busy.
It's not you, it's me.
Like right now, I'm in my political science class. And if my professor realizes I'm blogging, she's going to call me out in front of everyone. And that would suck.

So I'm going to talk politics (which I enjoy anyway) and will regale you later with tales of my amusing and sometimes infuriating children.

Hello! My Name Is: Asshole

Last night, Aunt Flo had me laid out and miserable. The kids are on spring break, so I've been letting them stay up late. Last night, I went to bed at 10pm, and let the munchkins blow up the air mattress and sleep in my room. Before we laid (lay? lie? whatever) down, I explained that I really didn't feel well, and I was super tired, so it was time for bed.
Then Isaiah jumped on my bed. Which was fine. Well, it was fine until he kept climbing on me, and poking at me, and waking me up every time I’d doze off. By 11pm, I was mad as hell. He was twirling some plastic knife around and hit me with it. Then he dropped it on the floor. Then he dropped it again. Each time, he’d jump OFF the bed, then jump back ON the bed….. until I yelled at him that if he did it again, I’d throw out the knife. He settled down for a few minutes. I went back to sleep. Then he woke me up to change the channel, and I told him no. Then when he woke me up AGAIN for a glass of water (the tried and true bed time delay) I yelled at him to go to sleep.

He started to cry.

I said, “Really?? You’re crying because I won’t get another glass of water?!” And he nodded his little angel head while the tears spilled over.

Now I’m officially an asshole.

I dragged my ass out of bed, went downstairs to get a glass of water. When I brought it back, I apologized to him. He told me it was ok, that he still loves me. I felt like a total jerk.

Then this morning, he couldn’t find his knife, so he asked me on the phone if I threw it away. Yes, because I’m a mean, horrible person that makes kids cry. I told him no, that it’s probably under the covers, or on the floor next to the bed.

Then he noticed something, while we were on the phone. He asked, “Momma, did you put a heart on my hand?” and I said yes, and he was happy. You see, before I left this morning, when he was (finally) sleeping peacefully, I took a marker and drew a heart on his hand. So that when he woke up, he’d know I love him. Hopefully that’ll replace the image of half asleep, angry momma. *crosses fingers*

Did You Just Say "Abe Lincoln?"

Out of nowhere, Isaiah announced, "I miss Abe Lincoln."

Daimean curled up next to me on the couch, and decided to hold my foot as if he was holding my hand.

I told Isaiah to stop peeing on the back of the toilet. He laughed maniacally.

Daimean walked into the living, stood in front of the tv, and started to dance. Then, calmly walked away.

Children are strange little creatures.

You know how the saying goes, that time heals all wounds? I've noticed that I miss my father more as time goes by. Not less. Sure, I stopped sobbing every time I think of him (years and years ago, actually) but there are so many things I wish I could tell him. I wish he could see my kids. I wish my kids had the chance to know him. *sigh* So I guess the reminder that the people you love will not always be around prompted me to visit my grandparents. It's awful to see my grandfather so frail. In my mind, he's this big, strong Navy guy. But now he's small and ashen. My grandmother, well, she's still as opinionated as ever, and loud. And kind of rude, too. But we had a very nice visit, chatted about current events, our dogs, etc. Strangely, the kids actually wanted to go with me. Like most kids, mine are creeped out by elderly people. It's odd for me to see my grandmother not know how to talk to my kids. She always made extra effort to relate to me as a kid, and she did a damn good job. But with my boys? I don't know. I don't think she even knows their birthdays. To this day, I don't think she can spell their names, either.

Capital Punishment

Ok, so I explained Belly's sudden desire to draw on furniture. Well, Saturday morning I woke up to a raging sore throat and snow coming down. But I dragged my arse out of bed because I'd promised to take the kids to Breakfast with the Easter Bunny and the book fair.
On the way out, we pass the refrigerator. My lovely stainless steel, side by side, first new appliance I ever purchased refrigerator.
And there is a now familiar jelly bean person scene on it.
I flipped. I told Isaiah he is on punishment, and that he's going to clean that off. Then he informs me that it's done in Sharpie. WTF. My reply? "Then you're going to FIND a way to clean it off."
He cried.
I fumed.
Hubs cleaned it off.

The Ultimate Answer

What is the one question you can never know the answer to? You know, the biggie. Is there a God?
Last night I had a strange dream. There was a room that you could go into that would either confirm or deny the existence of God. No explanation of how it happened, or how people found out about it. Sorry, dream wasn't THAT detailed. The catch was that you could not change your belief or life or actions based upon the answer, and you couldn't tell anyone what you saw - or didn't see - in the room. The world was going crazy, debates sprung up all over about whether people really wanted to know. There were religious people who claimed they didn't need some side show oracle to tell them what they already knew. There were atheists who said that anything they saw in the room would be invalid. And sorry, for any non-Christians, this was the Catholic God model. I don't know what non-Christians were expected to see. Or not see. Or what. Some absolute truth? Any of the guys above?

My question, absolutely hypothetical, is whether you'd go into this magic room. If there WAS an answer, would you opt to find out?

Time

Hours. Minutes. Days. Weeks. Months.
It's relative, of course (thank you, Mr. Einstein) and time seems to fly when you're having fun. But today, all day, I felt some strange sensation. Now that I've finally had a chance to sit down for longer than it takes to pee, I reluctantly recognize what this cerrping feeling is. Panic.
This week has been very hectic, and shows no signs of slowing down. Tomorrow, in between work and school, I'm escorting my mother to a wake. Yesterday I visted a friend and her son, and it was wonderful to see them, even if under less than ideal circumstances. Today I went to get a hair cut. That was great. But I felt terribly guilty for the time and cost. Monday..... I don't even recall.
Tonight I've got to study for tomorrow's test. My massive research paper for one of my major classes is due April 6. I've barely started. Daimean's birthday falls on Easter. I need to make Easter baskets. I have to arrange a birthday party. I *think* I have a meeting for the school's fundraiser next Tuesday, when I'm supposed to be using my spring break to work on aforementioned research paper. And I think I'm just about of dog food. I've spent next to no time with my boys since this weekend. And even then, we were busy with a baby shower.
I'm so overwhelmed today. Maybe tomorrow I'll slip back into my virtual suit of armor and be ok. Right now, I feel like closing my books, crawling into bed, and saying Fuck environmental biology. Forget the test. I don't care. But I won't, because that's just not me.