10 Suck-ish Things About Motherhood

Sleepless Nights-1

I've heard a lot of my mommy friends say things like, “I love it when my baby wakes up at night and it's just me and him/her, all alone. We get to bond.

That's a bunch of bull! There will be plenty of time for bonding during the day, when you're well rested and not sleep deprived. I don't know if these moms think that saying things like this is going to win them some kind of award or what, but let me tell you, it's not! My philosophy is, a good mom is a mom who got eight, uninterrupted hours of sleep the night before (period).

Rear Facing Car Seats-2

Until your baby is old enough to realize that they are not in the vehicle (seemingly) all alone, this isn't a problem. But one day, they wake up, they are no longer oblivious to the fact that the back of the seat isn't a permanent fixture in their lives and they freak out!

Or in my infants' case, they cry until they puke, scream until they turn blue, almost pass out, and have green snot running off of their chin. Whoever the genius was that came up with this rear facing car seat idea, kudos. Every mom in America hates you!

“Spill Proof” Sippy Cups-3

Um...NOT! We all know when these spill proof cups get turned upside down in the rear facing car seats that our baby's have to sit in until they're a year old, that their pants will be soaked from the time we get from point a to point b. I think we should all banned together and sew for false advertisement!

Potty Training-4

Do I really even need to expound on this? No, I didn't think so.

Giving Birth-5

Keep in mind, these are in no particular order. Now, I've heard this described in many different ways. My granny always said, “It's like lifting a house on your shoulders.” Hmm, that would be hard. I can't remember who said it but I've heard it described, “Imagine trying to push a watermelon through a lemon.” I think that's a pretty accurate description.

I just say, it hurts really really bad, then it's over. Aahhh...

It's a very bitter sweet moment for me. I was iffy about putting child birth in my suck-ish list. Delivery is probably my favorite part of the whole nine month baby making process.

After each and every one of my child births, that's right, all five of them, I felt more accomplished than I've ever felt in my whole entire life. I mean, I had just pushed a tiny person out of my, well, ya know. The suck-ish part? I thought there should be some kind of ceremony. Maybe a trophy? I had done this amazing thing and all everybody wanted to talk about was “the baby” this and “the baby” that. Yeah yeah. The baby was great but really, what did the baby do? I'm the one that had just risked life and limb to lift this proverbial house on my shoulders and what did I get? Squat.

So, you can probably see how this made the list.

Disciplining-6

I really hate having to get onto my kids. It's one of my very least favorite things to do. I always swore I would never be one of those moms that said, “just wait until your dad get's home.” But guess what? I'm totally that mom. Ugh...and I hate myself for it!

But in a perfect world, I cook, clean, kiss the boo-boo's, and daddy comes home and knock heads together, and everybody's happy...especially mommy.

Bed Time-7

On TV shows and movies this ritual always seems to go so smooth. Mommy and Daddy go in, read the children a story, say their prayers, kiss them good night, and in eight to ten hours the little angels come rolling out of bed. Refreshed and ready for a new day.

That is never how it has gone at our house. NEVER! It usually goes a little something like this:

School night bed time is nine o'clock for the younger kids, ten o'clock for the older two. I have them start getting ready around eight-thirty, that way they have no excuses when it's actually bed time. They brush their teeth, if they feel like it, go the bathroom, put pull-ups on, (for the ones who need them) get their bed time drinks, then off to bed, for the first time.

Dani: “Mom, can I sleep in the living room tonight?”

Me: “No. You need to go to your room.”

Dani: “But I want to watch a movie.”

Me: “Dani, you will never go to sleep if I let you sleep downstairs.”

Dani: (crying, stomps upstairs)

I usually go to bed around nine-thirty or ten o'clock. There is somebody in and out of my room, no less than five times from the time I go in there, to eleven o'clock each and every night.

Devin: “You're probably gonna say no, but can I have a salad?”

Me: “NO. Go...To..BED!”

Dustin: “Can you tell Devin to leave me alone?”

Me: “Tell him I said to leave you alone!”

Daymond: “I don't know how anybody's supposed to sleep in this house with them!”

Me: “Daymond, please just do your best and Go..To...BED!”

Dani: “Mom, can I pleeaasseeee sleep in the living room?!”

Me: “Dani, if you don't go upstairs and go to sleep I'm going to beat you, or have Daddy do it!”

Dakotah: “Mommy, can I lay on your arm?”

Me: “Of course Dakotah. Anything you want.”

Settling Arguments-8

This may possibly be the most suck-ish thing yet!

Devin: “I called X box”

Dustin: “No I did!”

Dani: “I'm going to be Carly you be Sam.”

Dakotah: “No. I'm Carly, you're Sam!”

Daymond: “It's my shot-gun day.”

Devin: “It's my shot-gun day.”

Me: Aaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

This leaves me to be the judge and the jury. And if you've watched very many legal proceedings, you'll know that I'm going to end up very unliked by one side or the other.

There are days that I swear they get out of bed and make a conscious decision to argue about every single topic that comes up in the day.

Me: “Hey kids. I'm going to cook you the best breakfast ever! Blueberry waffles, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and fresh fruit.”

Them: “Eeww! No. We want cereal.”

Me: “Hey guys. Wanna go to the park and play baseball then have lunch at Pizza Hut?”

Them: “No way! We want to clean the whole house and then have bologna sandwiches for lunch.”

Okay, maybe that's a stretch. I'm just trying to prove a point. They really like to argue!

Why? Why? Why?-9

Because I said so!!! That's why! First time moms are under the crazy illusion that only toddlers go through this “why phase.” WRONG! They start around the age of two, and my oldest is now fourteen, and he has yet to outgrow the “why phase.”

This is where, because I said so, comes in really handy. I despised that answer when I was a kid! But until you're a mom, you can't really appreciate it. It covers a multitude of whys.

“Mommy, why can't I have a sucker for breakfast?” “Because I said so.” “Mommy, why can't I wear a hoodie to school when it's ninety degrees outside?” “Because I said so.” “Mom, why can't I go to an unsupervised, boy/girl party while I'm in the eighth grade?” “Because I said so.”  See? It works just as well as, you can't have a sucker instead of oatmeal because it'll rot your teeth and you'll still be hungry. You can't wear a hoodie when it's ninety degrees because people will think you're mental, you might stroke out, and it's just weird. You can't go to an unsupervised, boy/girl party while you're in the eighth grade because I was in the eighth grade once, I'm not stupid, and I know what eighth grade boys and girls are thinking.

Because I said so was so much easier.

Deciphering Between The Truth & A Lie-10

When does, “I just threw up” mean “I just threw up” or “I didn't get my homework done and I really don't want to go to school today.”

After all these years, I'm still a pushover when it comes to the kids telling me they “don't feel good.” And no matter how many times I tell them they'll go to hell for lying, they continue to tell me they “just threw up.” And as soon as the bus pulls off, they magically feel like a brand new person.

There's a rule at school that if they puke, they must show the nurse or the teacher or they can't go home. Maybe a little extreme, but if they didn't do something they would have Coffee kids “puking” like crazy. So, I decided this was a good rule to enforce at home.

I've became hard core. They seem to “forget” to leave it in the toilet. They always flush. If I don't see it, they get on the bus. I know this sounds horrible but you would just have to know my children to understand.

So, these are some of the things that make Motherhood suck! Oh, there are more. And I'm sure as my kids get older and go through more phases in life, there will be even more.

I always try to remind myself, as many suck-ish things as there are...the good always outweigh the bad!

“Insanity is hereditary. You can catch it from your kids.”

“Erma Bombeck”

If Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness, I'm In Trouble

     A lot of mom's and wives I know, pride themselves on keeping a nice, tidy, well ran home. I've tried this from all different angles over the years. It just doesn't work for me.

I spend countless hours, following little people around, picking their dirty socks up off of the floor, gathering their dirty dishes out of the living room, jock straps off of the table, football gear off of the stairs, tripping over baseball cleats...Only to turn around at the end of the day and realize, it's all right back where it started that morning.

     Who's fault is this? Mine. I know, I know. Believe me, I've seen the error of my ways. I'm just afraid it's too late to fix this error.

     Since my kids were little, I've followed them around, picking up after them. They threw a bottle down on the floor, I picked it up. One of them took their shoes off and kicked one in front of the TV and put the other on the coffee table. That's alright, mommy will get them. Somebody spilled a bowl of cereal in the floor? “Darli, can you lick this up? Then I'll clean up the rest. Now go play.”

     So you see, I've got myself in quite a predicament. They trash the house, and I clean up after them. They've come to expect it. And why wouldn't they?

     The list of chores that I need to do but don't always get to, is never ending; Laundry, dishes, clean the bathrooms, sweep and mop all of the floors, vacuum the carpet, clean the windows, dust the furniture, clean the mirrors, get the cob webs down, make the beds, take the trash out, shake the rugs, etc...Ugh! I'm tired just thinking about it!

I didn't realize, until a friend brought it to my attention, how often I say, “I hate doing ________ (fill in the blank). That's Curtis's job.” Apparently anything I hate doing, turns into Curtis's job. Poor Curtis.

     But there's one chore in particular, that I would rather be strung up by my ankles in a dark, cold, basement, surrounded by mice, while listening to someone pop their gum, than to have to do.

LAUNDRY! I HATE DOING LAUNDRY!

     That's the one thing I really didn't think through when I day-dreamed about having a big family.

     Curtis get's up each morning for work, puts on clean boxers, a wife beater, a t-shirt, clean socks, a pair of jeans, if it's extra cold, he wears long johns, (top and bottoms) a coat, and he's ready to go.

     Daymond wears, on a daily basis; two pairs of socks. Because it looks “awesome” and it would make my job easier to only wear one, so why would he do that? Boxers, a pair of shorts, a cut off t-shirt, a regular t-shirt, if it's cold outside he puts sweat pants over his shorts and a hoodie.

     Devin's much more simple. He wears only one pair of socks per day, bless his heart, boxers, a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, a hoodie, and he's ready to go.

     Dustin puts on whatever I choose for him to wear. Usually a pair of jeans that he didn't get dirty the last time he wore them, a t-shirt, a mis-matched pair of socks, and a hoodie.

     Dani, also wears what I choose for her but never without a fight. A pair of skinny jeans, panties, a t-shirt, NO socks, and a coat. (No socks leads to stinky feet but we must keep the princess happy)

     Dakotah hasn't started school yet. So when she rolls out of bed, she throws on a pair of panties and she's good for a couple of hours. Then wonders to her room and comes back in her Cinderella dress.

Dakotah: “Mommy, don't I look adorable?”

Me: “Yes you do!”

      She wears the Cinderella dress until breakfast time, spills oatmeal on it, disappears to her bedroom, and comes back in her Hello Kitty bikini, smiling from ear to ear.

After watching Super Why and being way too involved in solving today's “Super Story Answer” to make it to the bathroom in time...

Dakotah: “Mommy, I accidentally peed on Hello Kitty.”

Me: “Uh-oh. You better go find something dry to wear.”

Dakotah: “Okay!”

     She comes back out of her bedroom wearing, a pair of zebra print leggings, clean panties, a polka dotted shirt, rubber boots, and a bandana on her head. Now we're ready to tackle this day!

     If I have no plans to leave the house, I usually stay in my pajama pants or sweat pants from the night before, a t-shirt, NO bra, (saves on laundry detergent) and a pair of socks.

So, in case you didn't keep track. That is: seven pairs of socks, four pairs of boxers, three pairs of panties, two pairs of shorts, two pairs of sweat pants, eight t-shirts, one wife beater, one cut off t-shirt, three pairs of jeans, three hoodies, two coats, a set of long johns, one pair of zebra striped leggings, one Cinderella dress, and one Hello Kitty bikini. Whew! And it's not even nine a.m. yet.

     I've tried several different tactics to make doing laundry easier and more enjoyable.

I bought three, large hampers and labeled them, “Whites” “Colors” and “Jeans.” This worked out really well until all three of the hampers were over flowing and the nice, neat, sorted piles, turned into one big mess!

     I've always used my kitchen table as my folding station. Then made countless trips putting clean laundry in each persons closet and dresser. I came up with a brilliant plan. I bought small laundry baskets, put each persons name on one, and as I folded, I put their clothes in the corresponding basket. When the basket get's full, that person is to take it to their room and, neatly put their clothes away and bring the basket back to me.

    At first this was fun because it was new. It wasn't long until I was having to hunt the baskets down, empty them myself, and bring them back to the kitchen. It was nice while it lasted.

     I've had three or four hanging racks with wheels on the bottom. These are so nice. While I'm folding, I just put the clothes that go on hangers on this rack in order, (Curtis, Jenny, Daymond, Devin, Dustin, Dani, and Dakotah) and when the rack is full, move all of the clothes into the closets. I'm a genius!

Curtis got really tired of living out of baskets and off of a rack. And having to stumble around all of this laundry paraphernalia every time he entered the kitchen. So that ingenious plan was short lived.

     Almost a month ago my washer quit. Curtis has made a couple of trips to the laundry mat. I've taken load after load and washed them at my mom and dads. But my rock bottom came one Saturday night when I realized that none of us had clean clothes for church and the kids were going to have to go to school naked on Monday.

     So, I told everybody to gather up some of their clothes. I filled the bath tub with hot water, dumped some liquid laundry detergent in, added the clothes, and started scrubbing.

Let me just say, I had no idea how good I had it until I had to do laundry, at ten o'clock on a Saturday night, on my knees, in the bath tub. Not one of my finer moments.

     Well, it's time for school to get out.  Daymond will come home and change out of the shorts he wore to school into a different pair of shorts. Devin will shed his layers in the middle of the living room floor and put on a pair of pajama pants for the night. Dustin will take his jeans off and change into his clothes for basketball practice. Dani will change at least two times between now and bed time, and there comes Dakotah, out of the bathroom wearing one of my tank tops as a dress, a pair of cheetah print leggings, and some of daddy’s “preacher socks.”

     I don't know if God's trying to show me just how good I've got it by letting my washer poop out on me or what. But God, if you're listening, I get the point!

“My theory on housework is, if the item doesn't multiply,

smell, catch fire, or block the refrigerator door,

let it be. No one else cares. Why should you?

-Erma Bombeck

"You Said It." Yeah Well, "You Were Thinking It."

(Chapter 16 from my book, "Chaos In The Coffee House.")

     This little phrase, “You said it.” Yeah well, “You were thinking it” is what separates me from the rest of society. Most people have a thought that comes into their minds, they take time to think about what could happen if they put it into words, then they re-process the thought. I, on the other hand, skip step two and just spew my thoughts out before taking time to think. I've done this in every aspect of my life. Why would it be any different in motherhood?

     First let me say, I do not think that just because I have five kids, I know everything there is to know about pregnancy, giving birth, hushing a crying baby, and so forth. It seems I learn something new daily.

     But I do watch these mother's that seem to have all the answers. The cure for every rash and the recipe for home made, allergy free laundry detergent. I like to refer to her as the Room Mother. You know the one. She's at every single school party that her child has. She makes individual crafts for all twenty five students. She has time to get her nails done, have her false lashes applied, walk the dog, and french braid her daughters hair, all before eight a.m.

     I always imagined that I would be that mom. I figured out real fast that I'm NOT her!

I love my kids. I give them shelter. They are fed when hungry. Watered when thirsty. Clothed when naked. Kissed when hurt. But if I were to make a comparison list between myself and the "Room Mom", how would I stack up? That's a question I ask myself a lot.

Room Mother: “Oh my goodness. Instead of waking up at five a.m. like I usually do, this morning I overslept until six-thirty. I didn't have time to iron little Heaven's dress so she's a complete disaster!”

Me: “Crap!” I overslept, again! The bus comes at seven-thirty five and it's already seven-twelve. I was going to get up in time to dry a load of laundry so Dani would have clean pants for school. Oh well, these are just a little crusty. I'll just spray some perfume on them, run them through the dryer for a couple minutes, and they're as good as new.

Room Mother: “Oh sweetheart, did you have another bedtime accident? Let mommy get that cleaned up for you. Come on, I'll run you a bubble bath and go put your bedsheets in the washer. It'll be alright.”

Me: “Are you kidding me? Did you seriously pee all over me again? It's three a.m. I am NOT changing these sheets tonight. Get up for a second. I'll throw a towel over it.” Darn it, the comforter's wet too. Oh well, we'll just put the wet end at our feet. “Now, go back to sleep. I can still get a good three hours.”

Room Mother: “Oh honey, don't eat that carrot that you dropped on the floor. It has germs all over it. You don't want to get sick do you?”

Me: “You dropped your piece of bologna on the floor? Eh...that's alright. Just pick the dirt off of it. I'm sure you've eaten worse. What doesn't kill you make's you stronger.”

Room Mother: “This medication label says Do Not give to children under the age of 12 years. I guess I better drive ten minutes to the pharmacy to get something that is age appropriate.

Me: “You have a headache? Okay, this will work. I don't have a medicine cup but the label says for you to take two tablespoons. (holds the bottle up) What's in there looks like about two tablespoons. Just drink the rest of it.”

Room Mother: “Oh my, I can't leave the house without my makeup done. We're going to be running a few minutes late.”

Me: Does a once over in the mirror. I've seen better days. Grab some clean sweat pants, make sure the shirt I slept in isn't too wrinkled or that I didn't drool on it. Can't find the brush. Oh well, a messy bun will do the trick. Off to do errands I go!

Room Mother: “Hi kids. I made fresh cookies for an after school snack. And honey, there's a pot roast in the crock pot for dinner. It'll be done any minute. How was everybody's day?

Me: "Hi kids. How was your day? You're hungry? There's not any milk but you can have some dry cereal for a snack. Hey Curtis! We're probably going to have sandwiches and chips for dinner. I'm just not really in the cooking mood. Now, can you guys please be quiet while I finish watching Dr. Phil? Thanks."

     Guess that answers my question. We were all created to be individuals.

I have a friend that is also a stay-at-home-mom that I admire very much. I've never walked in her house and found anything out of place. She home-schools her children, helps so many people out in different ways, and does a lot for the church where her husband is the Associate Pastor.

     It used to be my goal to be a mother and wife, just like her. Until one day, we were talking and I told her I was tired because one of the boys had been sick the night before and I slept in their bed with them. She told me that she really admired me for doing that and wishes that she was more like me (as a mom) in a lot of ways. That really opened my eyes.

     My laundry pile gets completely out of control, sometimes I let Monday's dinner dishes wait on the table until Tuesday morning, Darli (the dog) hasn't had a bath since, well, I can't really remember, and I don't always serve up a five course meal. But one thing I know for sure. If you ask any one of my kids if I loved them, they would know, without a doubt, that I absolutely, one hundred percent do. With all my heart!

     So, a lot of you Room Mothers are probably thinking, “I can't believe she said that.” Well, “You were thinking it!”

Patience, Prayer, and Prozac

(Chapter 15 from my book "Chaos In The Coffee House.")

        One day when a young mother of two (very energetic) little boys looked at me with tired, defeated eyes and said, “I don't know how you do it.  Please tell me it gets easier.”  I wanted to be able to tell her that one day, her boys would wake up and BAM!  All the hard stuff would be over and the rest would be a cake walk.  But I can not tell a lie.
So, I just explained how I cope.  It didn't come over night.  There were times I thought I might end up in prison for the bodily harm I wanted to inflict on my offspring.  Don't gasp.  If you're a mom and say you haven't had these thoughts, you're a liar!
Patience isn't something I was born with.  It's something that I had to work at for a very, very long time.  I think it's a learned behavior but just like playing piano, drawing, or writing a good story, I don't believe everyone can be taught.
So, in walks prayer.  Prayer should always be our first step, but often, we use it as a last resort.  I'm not really sure why.  Just seems to be how we're wired.
Women and especially moms are doers and fixers.  We like to do things on our own, in our own time, without guidance, advice, or much help from anyone else.  I think it helps us to feel a sense of accomplishment if we can complete a task without relying on anybody for anything!  Sadly sometimes, even God.
I would like to have stopped there and told her that I just have an extreme amount of patience and spend a lot of time in prayer.  That's how I deal with having five rowdy children that are never quiet for more than three minutes at a time and won't let me go to the bathroom by myself.
But I had to share the third P.  Prozac.
This is foreign and unaccepted by a lot of Christians in today’s society.  My opinion on the subject is this, God made doctors, he gave those doctors the knowledge and understanding to get inside our heads and know what's going on in there.  We should never stop relying on God and put our trust in a pill.
Different people deal with anxiety/depression in different ways.  I believe with all my heart that God can and will deliver me from mine, in His time.  There's a reason He hasn't yet.  I've cried, begged, pleaded, and wondered many, many times when my day would come.  When I wouldn't be a mental case anymore that couldn't cope without a pill.  “Not yet.”  Is always His answer.
So, in the mean time Prozac is my best friend.  We go everywhere together.  When I first started taking it I was on one pill per day.  I went back to the doctor after six weeks with bloodshot eyes and crazy hair and said, “I don't think this medicine's working.”  The doctor looked at me without any questions and recommended we up the dosage.
That was almost two years ago, I'm now taking three pills per day and I'm doing great!
Oh, I still have an off day now and again.  That's usually when I hear the kids in the other room asking Curtis,”Did Mommy run out of her crazy pills again?”
So, mommy's.  If you ever look at that put together, perfect mom in town.  And you wonder just how in the world she seems to keep everything straight:  Her daughters gymnastics, her oldest sons basketball, her other sons soccer, her dog is bathed regularly, never a dirty spot on/in her car, she volunteers at the homeless shelter, she sings in the church choir, her make up is perfect, and she posts on Facebook at least five times/week about her amazing workout...yada yada yada.
Just remember nobody's got it all together all the time.  She's probably trusting in my philosophy. Patience, Prayer, and Prozac.

Mommy+Misophonia=Maniac

(This is chapter 14 from my book, "Chaos In The Coffee House.")

Mommy:  A female who has borne offspring; female parent.

Misophonia:  Literally means “hatred of sound,” is a neurological disorder in which negative experiences (ex. Anger, flight, hatred, disgust...) are triggered by specific sounds.

Maniac:  A person exhibiting extreme symptoms of wild behavior, especially when violent and dangerous.

I'm not sure how people view me from the outside.  Honestly, I'm not sure I even want to know.  But if you could just unscrew my skull and step inside my brain it would scare you to death!
This chapter is a confessional of sorts.  If I had to describe myself, looking through the eyes of another person I would say;

Oh, that Jenny Coffee.  She's a little loud and never stops talking. She can have a ten minute conversation in the grocery store with a perfect stranger.  It's obvious she's crazy about her husband and she loves her kids to pieces.  She's pretty funny, although slightly inappropriate at times.  She definitely likes to state the obvious but that's good for some of us more, oh what's the word I'm looking for, un-smart people.  And she loves the Lord with all of her heart!

Aw...that was a very kind description.  Thank you.
Although that's what I hope or imagine people see on the outside, the three definitions above describe me to a T.
Unless you've spent an extended amount of time with me, you wouldn't know that I have these issues.  
I've suffered from Misophonia since I was a young child.  The very first noise I remember making me mad enough to cry was my mom and dad kissing.  Smack smack, slurp slurp.  Ugh!  Just thinking about it makes me want to punch somebody in the face.  And the problem grew from there.
To give you a look inside my head, here are a few of the
noises that make me crazy;

crunching ice
crunching chips
crunching hard candy
crunching...pretty much anything that crunches
chewing on straws
smacking gum
popping gum
eating popcorn kernels
eating popcorn
slurping
gulping
biting fingernails
chewing on fingernails after they're bitten off (ewww)
nail clipping
grinding teeth
opening and closing chip bags too loudly
people dragging their feet
whistling
people sloppy kissing
certain singing voices (ex. Carrie Underwood) Keep in mind, I like Carrie Underwood.
dental flossing
snoring
popping knuckles
buzzer at basketball games

Just to name a few.

So, I suppose it's safe to say that this little issue of mine might cause some tension around the home front.
There are mornings I swear that everybody in the house gets together for a family meeting while I'm on the pot, and in my mind it goes a little something like this;

Dad:  “Daymond.  When Mom comes out of the bathroom I want
you to sit right beside her on the couch.  Bite your fingernails like there's no tomorrow.”
Daymond:  “I'm all over it.  This is my very favorite annoying thing to do!”
Dad:  “Now Devin.  I want you to go pour yourself a huge bowl of the crunchiest cereal you can find.  You sit on the other side of your mom and go to town on it.”
Devin:  “No problem.”
Dad:  “Dustin, my little pop lover.  Go get that 42oz mug out of the top cabinet.  Pour it to the brim with your pop of choice.  Gulp as loud as you possibly can.  Be a good boy.  Now go on!”
Dustin:  “Yes Daddy.”
Dad:  “Now.  Dani and Dakotah.  Here's your breakfast!  I bought you each a package of bubble gum.  Dani, go practice your bubble blowing and try to teach Dakotah.  It'll be so much fun!”
Dani & Dakotah:  “Yaaay Daddy!  You're our favorite!”
So as everyone's gathered around me in the living room.  Curtis turns the X box on, cranks up a Carrie Underwood c.d.  And starts opening a bag of chips.  It's going to be one of those days.
I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or jump off  the roof and hope it doesn't just break my legs.  The last thing I need is to be confined to a bed, in a full body cast, having to be cared for by the crunchy slurpy gang.
My poor family.  I really do feel bad for them.  They must constantly be walking on egg shells.  I'm trying to learn new coping mechanisms.
One night Curtis was eating cereal before bed.  To say it was getting on my nerves would be putting it mildly.  So, I decided instead of flipping out, I'd go to the bedroom to read.  He followed me.
Curtis:  “What are you doing in here?” crunch crunch crunch
Me:  “Reading.  Enjoying the silence.” twitch twitch twitch
Curtis:  “Why don't you come in there with the rest of us?”
Me:  “Because I want to read my book.” Grrr.....
Curtis:  “You can bring it in there and read.”
Me:  “You're driving me insane with your STUPID...CRUNCHY...CEREAL!  I want to cut you and punch you in the throat and kick you down the basement stairs!”
Ahh...I feel so much better now.
Curtis:  (a little scared & wounded)  “My goodness.  I was just trying to spend some time with my wife.
Me:  “Come back to spend time with me when you're not eating.”
This is a common occurrence.  Do I feel bad for my family?  Yes.  Do I do this on purpose as they all suppose I do?  No.
I'm convinced that everywhere I go, I've got a sign floating above my head that says, “Make annoying sounds.  I love it!”
I can't enjoy a church service, a concert, a sporting event...nothing where there are large groups of obnoxious people.  Because they will hunt me down, follow me to where I'm sitting, park themselves right behind me and in comes annoying noises.
There's always the gum popper.  This chic usually chews her gum ninety miles/hour.  Then when she needs to give her jaws a rest, she puts it between her teeth and it begins.  Pop pop pop!
Me:  “I swear Curtis, if this lady doesn't stop I'm going to turn around, take that gum from her, and stick it up her nose.”
Curtis:  “Maybe we should just move.”
Me:  “There's an idea.”
This has happened on so many occasions.  It seems like every time we go see a movie, which isn't very often, I always end up in front of the ice cruncher/popcorn eater/chair kicker.
Nothing can ruin a good movie faster than this annoying guy.
Me:  “We should have just waited for this to come out on DVD.  Then I wouldn't have to deal with this guy trying to make my life a misery.”
Curtis:  (eye roll)  “Can't you just ignore him?”
Me:  “Don't you think if I could just ignore him I would have tried that with you years ago?”
Then there's the dedicated church member/gum popper.  She knew that I had these issues.  Although I would consider us good friends, it wouldn't have taken much more than one...more...pop for us to turn into enemies.
I felt comfortable enough with her that I finally told her one day, that her gum popping during the church service was really distracting.  She thought this was hilarious!  Me?  Not so much.
I told her that her annoying noises were taking away from the Lords service.
Church member:  “Oh Jenny.  You're so funny.”  Pop pop!
Me:  “I'm not trying to be funny!  If you don't quit I'm going to choke you.” (In the name of the Lord, of course)
Church member:  (looking a little wounded)  “Okay.  Goodness.”
So, to say this is a problem would be putting it mildy.
There was a lady on Dr. Phil the other day with this exact same issue.  Dr. Phil told her she needed to learn new ways to cope. I just wonder why people have to be so stinkin' annoying!?

My 15 Minutes Of (almost) Fame

     Those of you who know me well, know that I just published my first book.  If you're interested in buying a copy go to lulu.com and search Chaos In The Coffee House. You can get your copy for $10.00.  Okay I'm done plugging.
     One of the chapters in my book is titled, "Mommy+Misophonia=Maniac."  That's me!
     Well, I was strolling The Doctors website the other day and one of the headlines said, "Do you or someone you love suffer from Misophonia?"  Um...yeah!  "Would you like to be on our show?"  Um, heck yeah!  So, I emailed them my story.
     The next day I got an email back saying they would love to talk to me and asked when a good time would be to call.  ANYTIME!!!!
     Later that evening I got the phone call.  She asked me all about my Misophonia (if you don't know what that is, look it up).  We talked for about 30 minutes.  That was on a Thursday, she asked if there was any way I could fly to L.A. the following Tuesday to be on their show Thursday?  Are you kidding me!?!?!  She said they would provide my plane ticket, my hotel, and money to eat on while I was there.  They were also willing to pay Curtis for his time off if he came with me.  WHAT?!  So cool!
     In the meantime I emailed my "insider" to the Dr. Phil show.  It was a shot in the dark but I asked her if I ended up coming, was there any way I could get into a filming of Dr. Phil.  I know it's short notice, but you don't know if you don't ask.
     SHE SAID YES!!!!!  I'm about to get to mark one more thing off of my Bucket List.  Go to the Dr. Phil Show! Check.
     That's where the fantasy ended.  The lady from The Doctors apparently wasn't interested in my story.  I don't know if I wasn't crazy enough for them or what.  I mean, I'm pretty crazy!  Knowing that I was that close to meeting Dr. Phil, then having it ripped away from me, breaks my heart.  Sigh.......
     Mark my words..."IT WILL HAPPEN."   (insert evil laugh)

5 Things Husbands Should Never Say To Their Housewife/Stay At Home Mom

1.  What did you do all day?

     Oh no you didn't!  If you weren't here, you can't judge! 

     You didn't see the countless hours I spent comforting a sick baby, cleaning up after the dog, running boys to and from practices, cooking breakfast and getting that cleaned up just in time to start lunch, starting Monsters Inc., refilling sippy cups, wiping up spills, starting Monsters Inc. (again)...It's amazing that these four walls are still standing.  Thank you very much!

2.  So, I see you're still wearing your pajamas.

     I'm so sorry I didn't take time out from wiping other people's butts and getting last nights spaghetti noodles off of the window sills to get dressed and put my face on.  What ever was I thinking?

3.  It must be nice to be able to sit around, watch Dr. Phil, and crochet all day.

     Oh it is.  It's amazing that I can do that and I still manage to have supper on the table every evening, clean laundry, and you can get through the front door when you walk in.  It's almost like I'm Super Woman!

4.  You know what would have made this meal so much better?

     Um...let me see.  If you had cooked it yourself?  Or maybe if you had to go hungry for a few days and learned to appreciate what you get and how you get it?  

5.  Why are you going to bed so early?  You don't have any reason to be tired.

     Let me tell you, if all I done all day every day was watch every move that these kids make, that's enough to make me want to turn in early.

     I don't think dads understand that mommys work never ends.  Even if I'm not physically doing something, my mind is in constant motion.  It's exhausting.

     So husbands, take a minute to think before you speak.  It'll work out better for you in the end.  I promise.

    

Christmas At The Coffee House

     I woke up Christmas morning before daylight, so I could monitor the present opening.  

     Every year I know that if anyone  rolls out of bed before mom, we'll miss all the excitement.  

     One of the first things I found was a note to "The Coffees" from Santa on the stool where we left his chocolate chip cookies and milk.

     

 

     As busy as ole' St. Nick is, he still took the time to stop and visit me at work and leave us a note saying thank you for the cookies.

     I found it rather odd that Santas writing looked identical to my oldest son, Daymonds.  But I just dismissed this as a crazy coincidence and went on with my morning.

     Before long the sleepy eyed little monsters started making their way down the stairs one at a time.

     Let the somewhat organized chaos begin!

     As I sat there and watched the boys open their video games and the girls their Barbie dolls, I started thinking about Christmas's when I was a kid.

     Every year until I turned about 14, my big brother Tim and me, always slept in the same bed on Christmas eve.  It's just too exciting not to share it with someone!

     He always built a wall between us out of pillows and he only had one rule.  "You stay on your side and I'll stay on mine."  

     He was scared to death I would touch him.  Eeewwww!  But even more afraid that I would pee on him.  I had a slight problem with bedwetting.  (You'll all be glad to know that I finally got control of my bladder issues).

     There were times that we would be in bed by 8:00 because time goes by a lot faster when you're sleeping.  We talked and talked (mostly I talked) until Tim would finally tell me to "SHUT UP and GO TO SLEEP!"

     Growing up in the Zimmerman household, we had one major Christmas rule.

Rule:  NEVER pick up, pat, stare at closely, or guess what may be in that big box that says, To: Jenny, on it. 

     

     If we ever did happen to guess, Dad flipped out!  He hated it when we knew what we were getting and the surprise was ruined.  I see myself carrying on that trait.  I absolutely hate it when the kids guess what their gifts are.  

     While watching the ripped paper fly through the air and the kids showing each other what they got, I started reminiscing.

     Every year for about 12 years, my best friend Dawn and I would call each other as soon as our last gift was opened.  We just had to share our excitement.

     It's so funny because its been about 15 years since we've done that but I still catch myself thinking, "I wonder what Dawn got this year."  

       For some reason, the only gift that really sticks out in my head from my childhood is this horribly ugly, blue, sweatshirt.  With a cat appliqué on the front if it!  Of all things.  A cat!  I'm not even a cat person!

     What was my mom doing?  Trying to get me beat up?!  I already had a mullet.  She might as well have stuck a sign on my forehead that said "Punch me...HARD."

     That's the only gift I remember getting that I hated.  But for some reason, that's the only gift I remember getting...EVER!

     So I now know, as a mom NOT to get my kids ugly sweatshirts, and not to give them mullets!  Because they'll never forget it!  Thanks again Mom.

     Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas!

     Happy New Year!

    

The Boy Who Cried Concussion

     Anytime somebody in my house starts crying, My first reaction is always, "What did Devin do this time?" 

     A few nights ago we were all relaxing, watching Duck Dynasty re-runs.  And I heard a loud THUMP.  Then Dustin started screaming bloody murder!  The bedroom door flung open and in runs Devin.  "I didn't mean to hurt him!  We were just playing!"  Devin's always "just playing."

     Still in the bedroom, Dustin is screaming, "OH MY GOSH!  OH MY GOSH!  My head!!!"  

     I've learned by this point in motherhood not to panic. More than likely he's overreacting.  

     I went to check on the injured.  He was thrashing around in the floor, holding the back if his head, screaming.  

     I made him get up.  By the way he was acting, I was just sure he was bleeding profusely.  

     I was a little afraid to look.  But upon further inspection I found no blood, no knot, no cut, NOTHING!

     The story I got was this;  Devin and Dustin were not wrestling!  They were just playing but Devin doesn't know how to play without breaking something.  Wether it be a lightbulb, a plate, or his brothers head.  Something will get broke.

     I have always discouraged the boys from watching WWE.  For one, I think it's ridiculously stupid!  Two, no matter what boys watch, they think they need to play it.

     When Jimmy, my little brother was small, no matter what he watched on t.v., he "played to it."  

     Power Rangers, Dukes of Hazzard, Rugrats.  Didn't matter what it was.  He just had to play to it!  Thank God he didn't watch Americas Next Top Model!

     At one point our dad threatened to make him stop watching Power Rangers altogether because we were all sick of him kicking, punching, and karate chopping everyone in his path.

     So, the boys know that wrestling is NOT allowed at our house!  Which is really too bad.  Because wrestling is a blast.  But my boys don't know how to do it without causing serious bodily harm to one another.  

     After the incident with Dustin's head and the wall, I separated them and told them to "stay away from each other!"  Time out for unnecessary roughness.

Devins defense was, "He pushed me first." The truth comes out.  Wow!

     Dustin laid down on the couch and started to dose off.  He was complaining of being dizzy and light headed.  So Curtis told him he better not go to sleep.  Ya know, just incase he wasn't overreacting.

      For the next hour, every time Dustin got up, he stumbled all over the place and his eyes went a little crazy and he kept saying really strange things and crying hysterically.

     Daymond and Devin were very entertained by this Dustin.  

     After the 5th time of them laughing at him and him bursting into tears, I finally told him to just go to bed with me.  They couldn't bother him in there.

     So, we went to bed.  He lifted his head up once in a while, look around kinda goofy eyed, then layed back down.  He finally went to sleep.  I woke up a few times during the night and checked on him.  He was still breathing.

     The next morning he claimed that he didn't remember anything from the night before.  

     I finally said, "Dustin, look at me!  Why were you faking last night?  I know you remember."

     He lost it.  Died laughing and fessed up.  Yes, it hurt.  But maybe he had laid the act on a little thick.

     When I ask him why he would do that.  He just smiled, shrugged, and walked away.

      Me, being the good mom that I am, told him that liars go to hell and eternity was a very long time to spend with Devin.  Not really!  But I might use that next time.  Because I assure you, there will be a next time. 

     I did try explaining to him that if he was ever seriously hurt, we wouldn't know wether to take him to the emergency room or push him into a corner and ignore him.  

     I have learned that no matter how well you think you've raise your kids.  They're still going to mess up.  

     Wether it be a lie, stealing a candy bar when their 4 years old, spray painting the side of the house, or texting a potty word and denying it for a year.  (Yep...all Dustin) They WILL mess up!

     Guess I better go see what today holds.  Wish me luck;)

     By the way, Dustin's getting a copy of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" for Christmas.

     

     

Confessions Of A Wahlberg Addict

     My name is Jenny.  I will be 34 years old on the 27th of December.  I am a child of God, a wife to Curtis, a mother of 5, and I suffer from an unhealthy obsession with Donnie Wahlberg.   

     The obsession began in 1989.  I was nine years old and my mom bought me the "Hangin' Tough" concert on VHS tape.  I watched and watched and re-watched that video until it was completely worn out and had to be replaced.

     That was 24 years and 3 video tapes ago.  

     My friends and I all had our favorite "New Kid." Amanda liked Jordan, Crystal liked Joey....but me?  I LOVED Donnie!  

     I loved that when all the others were dressed like your normal, everyday guy.  Donnie had holes in his jeans and wore a t-shirt that said, "Drugs Suck."

     I loved that while the rest of the band was singing and in the middle of their choreographed routine, Donnie was off by himself dancing, kissing girls in the audience, and making little girls feel like the only person in the room.

     I'm almost certain that it's all D-Dubs fault that I developed "a thing" for bad boys.  

     As my parents worried about this newfound fetish, I made it my goal to collect every magazine, pencil, ink pen, notebook, t-shirt, nightgown, poster.....that I could find with a picture of Donnie's face on it.

     My daddy did NOT approve!  I was raised in a conservative, Christian home. By a Southern Baptist preacher.  He said that "filth" didn't need to be in our house.

     So, from 9-5, while dad was at work, I was rockin' out to some NKOTB.  Mom always allowed it.  I now know, that it was because I came by my love for bad boys honestly.  I think she enjoyed it almost as much as I did.

     In 1994 when the boy band decided to part ways I, along with a million other "sisters" slipped into a deep depression. 

     In time the sadness faded, new boy bands came along, but one thing never changed.  I <3 Donnie!

     I watched his movies, continued to buy NKOTB cd's, watched my Hangin' Tough video, and longed for the day that they would reunite.

     It finally happened!  In 2008 they released a new album, "The Block."  Oh...My...Gosh!!!  

     If my dad heard this, he surely wouldn't approve.  But I was 28 years old and it didn't matter.

     Of course there was a lot of negativity surrounding their comeback.   "They won't do any good."  "This album will crash."  "They're too old to start again."  Blah blah blah!  But I knew better.

      The obsession grew!  My husband was so supportive of my Wahlberg addiction, that he made it possible for me to see NKOTB in concert this year.  

     When planning and getting ready for the concert, I was just certain that when Donnie layed eyes on me, this girl that had loved him for 25 years, he would instantly feel the sparks!  

     The concert was amazing!  I was a little, okay a lot depressed when it ended.    I went back home to my 5 children, my non singing/dancing husband, my 3 foot high pile of laundry, and sink full of dirty dishes.

     I've been on a mission since that day to get @DonnieWahlberg to follow me, @JenRCoffee on twitter.   

     I feel like, I've devoted almost 25 years of my life to this man.  The least he can do is click "follow."  

     So starting today, with your help, it's GOING to happen!  If you're on twitter, tweet a link  to this blog (www.chaoticcoffees.blogspot.com) to @DonnieWahlberg and title it "Confessions of a Wahlberg Addict." 

     Thanks so much for your help.  I'll keep you informed:)

     

     

Before Pinterest There Was Martha Stewart

     As I sit here cuddled up with my blanket by the fire place, sipping my pumpkin spice coffee, watching The Today Show, (sounds like a Christmas commercial, huh?) a thought crosses my mind.  How did I survive in this world before I discovered Martha Stewart?

     I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Martha Stewart is the Dr. Phil of home decor, cooking, and crafts.  Yes.  She's that good!  They should have a show together.  Just imagine, "She'll clean up your home while He cleans up your act."  Oh, consider the possibilities!

     I've learned so many things from Martha over the years that I feel like it would be a great disservice to her and to all of you if I didn't share some of those things.  So, here we go.

    I struggled for countless hours with the dreaded fitted sheet.  I finally got to the point that I would just, fold, fold, roll, roll, roll.  Then stick the fitted sheet behind the nice, pretty, flat sheet on the shelf.  Until...one day several years ago Martha done a whole segment on "How to fold the fitted sheet."  Oh...My...Wow!  I'm positive that I could now teach a class on folding fitted sheets and probably, no definitely be nominated teacher of the year!  Who knew?  Martha, that's who!

     Unless you're a penny pincher like me, this one probably won't be of much use.  But this is one I've shared with some of my friends over the years.  Did you know that when using fabric sheets in your dryer that half a sheet works just as well as a whole one?  Nope?  Neither did I until I heard it on The Martha Stewart Show.  So, rather than buying cheap, store brand dryer sheets that don't smell very good, cut your Bounce or Snuggle sheets in half.  Make them last twice as long and if you want to look at it this way, they're half price!

     We don't go on many vacations or weekend getaways but when we do, I learned a way to pack that saves room and keeps our clothes wrinkle free.  This is the easiest way for me with a big family and limited luggage.

     Pick out your outfit.  Example: Pants, dress shirt, under shirt, underwear, and socks.  Lay your pants out.  Fold in half length wise, then shirt, undershirt, undies and socks.  Starting with the end of your pants, roll whole outfit up in a tight roll.  This makes them easy to pack, saves room, and keeps them from wrinkling.  Do this for each day you'll be gone.  Then getting ready in the morning is easy.  You just reach in, grab a roll per day, and go.

     When I'm packing for my kids my O.C.D. kicks into high gear and I put post-it notes on the outside of each roll with the days of the week on them.  This helps prevent any unwanted chaos.  Lord knows we don't need anymore of that!  Side note:  Curtis loves it when I coordinate our outfits to match for the entire trip.  (hint the sarcasm)  He loves it even more when I refer to his clothes as "outfits."

     Okay, you all know I love to bake.  A lot if recipes call for "sifted flour."  So, I went to Walmart and bought the cheapest sifter I could find.  There's a reason it was so cheap.  It only worked for about five minutes.  Martha taught me that you don't have to have a sifter.  Just put your dry ingredients in a bowl and stir  them together with a wire wisk.  So easy.  Lumps gone.  Voila!

     Last but most certainly not least.  When baking a cake and the directions say to flour your pan to keep the cake from sticking, use cocoa powder instead of flour for chocolate cakes.  This will keep your pretty chocolate cake from getting all white!

     Before Pinterest there was Martha Stewart!  She has taught me so many things and the ones I've shared with you are just a few of my favorites.  But the most important thing she's taught me?

Never cheat the system.  And black an white stripes are only cute if they're in zebra print! 

The Things Nobody Tells You

     When I dreamed about having baby's I always thought of the pretty way they smell right after their evening bath.  How soft and kissable their little pudgy hands are.  How they cuddle and coo and look at you with such adoration at such an early age.

     Then when I thought on into their toddler years I couldn't wait to coax them into saying their first words, teach them to count (one, two, free), blow kisses, pat-a-cake...You know?  All of that adorable, important stuff that would keep the grandparents and aunts and uncles entertained for hours.

     A few years down the road would be the start of elementary school.  Oh what fun!  Cute clothes!  School programs!  Field trips!  Birthday party's.  The fun never ends.

     It would just get bigger and better from there.  

     Middle School was awesome for me!!!  I couldn't wait to go through those years with my kids!

     Basketball, baseball, football, track, cheerleading...Hanging out with friends.  Going to church.  Spending time with family....

     Ya know what?  All of those things are great!  And when discussing parenthood with friends, it seems that those are the events they tell you about.  

     I've had to learn the hard way, that there are sooo many other things that nobody bothered to tell me!  A little heads up would've been nice people!

     So that's why I'm here.  News flash!  It's not all bows and ribbons, cuddles and kisses, smiles and laughs.  

     Those commercials you see on t.v. with the perfect little family?  Mommy smiling at daddy adoringly, kiddos dressed in their nice, clean, suits and dresses.  Well behaved dog laying in front of the fire place (not pooping in the floor).  IT'S A HOAX!!!  

     The little brats are probably bribed with candy and trips to Disney Land to be good for the 30 second commercial!  And the dog?  I'm almost certain it's either stuffed or sedated until the job is done.

     I got my first reality check when Daymond was a baby. He was NOT a good sleeper so I decided an evening bath ritual would help.  So every evening, he got a bath in lavender baby bath, then rubbed down with baby lotion.  Ahh...he smelled so yummy.  For about 15 minutes!

      I'm not sure how Daymond grew to be as big as he is because I swear every time he had a bottle, it immediately came out one of the holes in his tiny little body. Ugh...The things nobody tells you.

     Daymond was 8 months old when I got pregnant with Devin.  By the end of my pregnancy, he was starting to talk pretty well.  

     I'll never forget trying to make little 16 month old Daymond, understand that he was going to have a new baby brother.  I must have mentioned the baby to him one too many times, because one day he pulled back his fist, and with the most evil look on his face said, "I kill you baby."

     My mom laughed!  Curtis laughed!  My dad laughed!  I was 8 months pregnant.  I did not laugh!  

     I took this as a sign.  He is going to hate this baby!  Oh my gosh, my sweet little Daymond is going to kill his baby brother!  I cried and cried.  I may have been a tad bit hormonal because looking back on it, it's a little funny.  Oh my...The things nobody tells you.

     Potty training Devin is a feat I was just sure I would never accomplish.  Daymond was a breeze.  I assumed they would all be the same.  Wrong!!!

     When I gave birth to my second child, Devin Ray Coffee.  I gave birth to the most disgusting child that would ever grace this earth.  

     When he was about 2 1/2 not only did he hide in the closet to poop, he also took his diaper off to do it.  Then said, "Stretch did it!"  Stretch was our wiener dog. Smart enough to blame the dog.  But not smart enough to poop in the potty.  Hmmm....I should've seen it coming right then.

     One day, after coming out of the closet (haha), Devin was naked and holding his hands up with what looked like chocolate pudding all over them.  I mean ALL over them!  I said, "Devin, don't touch anything!" 

     It seemed like everything started happening in slow motion.  I dropped what I was doing.  Ran toward him and just as I got to him, he smiled and stuck his hand in his mouth!  Yep.  He really did.  And not just for a second.  He sucked his fingers clean. 

     I was yelling, gagging, telling him to stoooooppppp!!!  While he stood there naked, smiling, with brown mush all around his mouth.  

     After Devin was cleaned up.  And his finger painting that I discovered in the other room was washed away.  Again, I cried and cried.  

     This time it wasn't hormones.  I was just devastated because I realized that I had a nasty, disgusting, abnormal child!  And that although I loved him with all my heart, wasn't quite sure how to deal with him.  Gag!...The things nobody tells you.

      Daymond was in pre-school the first, and hopefully only time he will ever have the cops called on him.   All of those cute little 4 and 5 year olds were lined up in the old rock building, waiting to go out to recess.  And Daymond was very curious about the little red handle on the wall.  So, he done what any other 5 year old would do.  He pulled it!

      He set off the alarms.  They had to evacuate the whole building.  The fire fighters came.  The police came.  Daymond  got "the talk" about that being for emergencies only.   I always hoped that when there was a story in the local paper about my kids it would be about something good that they had done.  Oops!...The things nobody tells you.

      I could probably write a book about these things that come as a total shock to you as a parent.  The very unexpected things that our innocent children do.  

     Like the first time Daymond, almost 3 at the time, saw someone of a different color.  He pointed right in their face, about 2 feet away and said, "Mommy, what color is that man?"

     Or the time Daymonds Sunday School teacher, Tina Terry asked the class if anyone had a song that they wanted to sing.  And Daymond raised his hand and requested, "She Thinks My Tractors Sexy."  NOT one of my prouder moments.

     Or when Devin was 4-ish and he was very shy.  When someone would talk to him in public.  Instead of responding with a smile or not responding at all.  He hissed like a cat.  Oh my gosh!  I have "the weird kid" that nobody wants to see coming!

     I didn't even know how to apologize for his behavior.  "I'm so sorry.  My kitty's having a bad day."  Oh my....The things nobody tells you.

     There's always the time that Devin peed in a Mt. Dew bottle and told 3 year old Dustin to drink it....and he did!

     Or when sweet little Gracie Ogle told Devin his hair cut was cute and it embarrassed him so he blurted out, "I think you're ugly!" I was just glad he learned to use his words instead of hissing!  Yaaay!

     Or the night I woke up to the sound of liquid running and one of my boys, I won't name names, was sleep walking and came into my bedroom and peed in my rocking chair. Because it looks like a toilet!?  Who knows?

     I haven't even started on the girls.  I caught Dani, 7 kissing our little neighbor boy, 5 through the fence in the back yard.  Who knew?  Oh yeah, I did.  But I want my kids to be different.  

     They're so curious at such an early age.  Dr. Phil says its "normal" and "natural."  I say it's creepy!...The things nobody tells you.

      I'm just giving some insight to those of you who are just starting down this path in life.

     Never ever say, "My kid will NEVER do this or that" because, mark my words.  They will poop, finger paint, then eat the leftovers!

     

     

    

     

Say Cheese!

     Oh the dreaded picture day.  I can't count the times I've left the Sears Portrait Studio in tears.  Curtis dragging his feet and rolling his eyes behind me saying, "I just don't understand what the big deal is.  It's just pictures."  Just pictures?  Did he really just say that out loud?  Men are so brain dead sometimes.

     Mommy's spend weeks planning the perfect outfits.  Then days planning around colds, nap times, bruises, and bad moods.  And hours fixing hair and keeping little boys out of mud puddles...just to get that perfect picture.  THAT'S what "the big deal is!"

     The last time we had pictures done of all of the kids, Dani and Dakotah weren't even born yet.  Considering Dani is seven and Dakotah is four, we decided it was time!

     With six kids, you don't spend months and weeks planning.  We decided on a Saturday afternoon that we would take the pictures the next day. 

    I decided on black & white.  That would be easy enough.  I went through everyone's closets and found them a black or a white shirt and jeans. I stressed over and over.  "This is what you will wear to church.  Then right after church we'll take pictures.  DO NOT GET DIRTY!"

     Dustin, nine hated the shirt I gave him to wear.  It was "sooo retarded looking."  I told him to get over it and went on getting everyone else ready. 

     Church starts at 10:00.  At 9:40 I was still running around in my pajamas coordinating outfits.  Ugh...

     Dustin came in the back door from jumping on the trampoline with mud all over his "retarded looking shirt."  I may have overreacted, sent him upstairs to change, had a minor melt down, and while I was breathing into a brown paper bag, Devin came in and said, "Dustin did that on purpose. He said, if I roll in mud I won't hafta wear this stupid shirt."

     Breathe Jenny.  Breathe.  If Curtis hadn't been here to bring me back to reality, I probably would have taken the retarded, muddy, shirt, rubbed Dustin's nose in it, then made him wear it to church and for pictures.  It would've made a funny picture and story...eventually, right?

     Okay, picture time!  We have Kaya 14, Daymond 14, Devin 12, Dustin 9, Dani 7, and Dakotah 4.

     On our way rushing out the door, heading for two separate vehicles, because we can't all fit in one,  I said, "We hafta take Darli!" Curtis looked at me like I was from another planet. "Are you kidding? I don't wanna hafta keep up with the dog!" "I will. C'mon Darli!  Should we take Tyson too?" "NOOO!!!"  "Goodness, now who's overreacting?"

     There's a beautiful little park just a couple minutes from our house where we  went to do our family "photo session."  

     Curtis had lots of fun ideas.  We had everything we needed.  Camera.  Kids.  Props.  Sunshine.  Smiles.  Positive attitudes.  Nothing but time.  Let's do this!

     Kaya and Daymond, both teenagers were over this before it ever started.  So they were fairly cooperative from the get go.  I know they were probably thinking, smile and it'll be over before we know it.

     With Dani and Dakotah, all you have to say is, smile and strike a pose.  They love being the center of attention.  So they both done great.

     Then there's Devin and Dustin.  Wow!  Although the park is very pretty.  It also has a lot of distractions for little boys.  Streams, rocks, woods, bugs...

     Every time I snapped a picture they were both off and running like wild animals.  Jumping across the creek, climbing trees, rolling down hills, throwing leaves at each other. 

     I felt like a broken record.  "Devin stop.  Dustin don't get dirty.  Devin you're going to get hurt.  Dustin put the bugs down."

     We left the park Sunday with a total of 30 pictures taken.  Six grumpy kids, one angry, disappointed mama, and a daddy that was probably wondering what he was thinking when had the idea to do pictures. 

     After editing, we came out with ten amazing pictures of our beautiful kids.  And now that the anger has subsided, I can look at these pictures and laugh and say it was all worth while. 

     Don't take life too serious.  Lesson learned!

     Most well behaved of the day?  Definitely Darli!