Rugrats and Dirty Rugs

Today is Sleepy's 6th birthday and as all birthdays go in the House of Insanity, there were a few tidbits that I have to put in the archives. I have a weakness. I know. Crazy, right? But, I do. It's a weakness involving a certain type of food. About a year ago, I was pumping gas into my van. Waiting for the gas guzzler to fill up takes some time, so I was looking around in boredom when something caught my eye. It was an advertisement for a birthday cupcake cake. I thought it was the most fantastic idea since sliced bread, ya'll. I stared in awe at the colorful ad with my mouth open. I couldn't keep my eyes off it until the clink of the gas pump caught my attention. I thought about it all the way home. When the next birthday in our house rolled around, you bet I was at the bakery counter looking at cupcake cakes. I started my order out with chocolate cupcakes. I'm a chocoholic, so it stands to reason that I'm going to order chocolate regardless of my c...

My little Happy is an imp. If you've read my previous posts about the critter, you'll agree. Today, I came upstairs from my cave to realize there was a growing darkness outside due to a storm coming in. As I looked out the window, I saw a cherub face with curly, blond hair staring back at me. I yelped. My little boy was supposed to be safely snug in his room. Instead, he had sneaked out to have a little fun unbeknownst to me. I could stab myself. I marched outside and my expression matched the sky exactly. Happy knew he was in trouble the moment he saw me. This wasn't the first time he had ventured outside. There was a particular time when he had gone over to the neighbor's house. When I realized he had escaped my notice yet again, I called for him outside. He didn't answer, so I became nervous. I sent his older brothers outside and they found him on the front porch of the neighbor's house. Their orders were to bring their brother home. I should have k...

This morning, I slowly opened my eyes to see curly, blond hair on the pillow next to mine. My little, cuddle buddy had decided to crawl into bed with me once again. It has been awhile since he's done that. Usually, he is looking for mischief while his mother still snoozes away. In the other room, I could hear Grumpy playing peek-a-boo with Sneezy. Sneezy had been wailing his distress about being confined in his jail and Grumpy had decided to take pity on him. I could hear his little laughs every time Grumpy said, "Boo!" Grumpy eventually brought Sneezy into my room and all three of them were in bed with me. Happy wanted to hold the baby, so I let him. I turned to look at the sweet picture they made. My mouth fell open as I looked into Happy's eyes and then Sneezy's. Sneezy's eyes were the blue eyes of a baby. Happy's eyes....weren't. I was surprised and dismayed at the same time. Where had the time gone? How could I not have seen that Happy...

The year was 2002. I was very pregnant with Sleepy and Grumpy was still a toddler. Bashful had just finished pre-K. Our condo was up for sale and we were going through horrendous negotiations that brought me to tears on a regular basis. Doc told me to get out of town for some much needed R & R. So, I booked a flight to visit my parents. I've always loved to fly even though I don't do it often. I often like to look around in the airports and wonder where everyone is going. Are they on a business trip? Are they visiting family? Are they on vacation? I love the busy-ness of it all. The flight attendants always draw my attention as well. Their made-up hair and makeup, the crisp, professional suits they wear, and the calm smiles they always had on their faces made me think I could be a flight attendant if I had a different life. To go all over the world was something I often daydreamed about until I realized that they probably only see the inside of the airports mor...

Sunday morning, I was fixing eight-year-old Grumpy's hair for church. I bent down (very little these days) to sniff his hair. I wrinkled my nose and scrunched up my face. "I'm not sure if that is a clean smell or not," I said doubtfully. His face twisted into a small smile that he tried to hide and he assured me he washed it. I narrowed my eyes and slowly said, "Alright." Then a little imp sat on my shoulder and I got a devlish look in my eyes. I said, "If you don't wash your hair, I'm going to come in there and wash it for you, naked butt and all." I think he swallowed his tongue. False threats and empty promises. I'm just full of them.

Today is Father's Day and I thought I'd have a little fun at my siblings' expense. Now, having five children of my own, I know in my bones that Dad's love for us is equal and knows no bounds. Some of these statements may be true, some embellished, and some are just plain silly, but it is all in fun. Why Dad loves me the best: 1) He named me after himself. My parents took the initials of his first and middle names and just spelled them out. 2) I can type really fast. 3) I look like his wife whom he adores. 4) I never peed outside when I was a kid. 5) I will watch John Wayne movies with him. 6) I have given him five grandsons. Top that. 7) I am his firstborn and everyone knows that firstborns are loved the most. 8) When I fell into the Erie Canal, he jumped in and saved me. (Hey, he could have let me drown, you know.) I'm sure my siblings' could write why Dad loves them the best as well. That's how he makes us feel. Each of us are special to him. Happy's F...

My church was having a potluck one day and I really wanted to impress them with my culinary skills. I imagined them all eating something I made and making "I'm in heaven!" expressions on their faces while licking their spoons. So, I called my mom. "Mom?" I asked. "Is there something I could make that is ridiculously easy and yet extremely yummy?" Of course, she had the easiest and yummiest recipe for a dessert I've come across in a long time if ever. I admit that sometimes I live under a rock due to the craziness of my household, so if you've seen this recipe before, you have it, and/or used it, we'll just agree that yes, I've been living under a rock. If you have used this recipe before, ISN'T IT THE EASIEST AND YUMMIEST RECIPE FOR A DESSERT YOU'VE EVER SEEN? I'm typing this at the top of my head, so here goes: Minister's Crockpot Delight Throw in two cans of cherry pie filling into your crockpot. Melt a stick of butter...

Bashful and I made chocolate pudding a couple nights ago. Luscious, creamy chocolate pudding. I gave the boys some the first night it was made and left the rest for another night. They devoured what was in their bowls and were left with chocolate mustaches. Last night, I was on the phone for a while. I became a teenager again and chatted a while with a friend. I didn't realize that things had gotten very quiet until I came upstairs. The house was deserted and I realized they had all gone outside to enjoy the cool evening weather. I let them have a half an hour of outdoor bliss before calling them inside. With the baby by my side, I decided to finish my dinner while watching my favorite summer show. Happy came in the house and noticed my hastily made food and asked if he could have some, too. Slowly dragging my eyes from the twirling dancers, I looked up at him and screamed. He looked like he had gotten into a fight with the cat over the chocolate pudding. It was all over ...

When I finally make it upstairs for bed, my mind dances around with visions of feather pillows, a soft bed, cool air coming in from the window, and a fan to gently lull me to sleep. Last night, I went upstairs with just this image in my brain and began my ablutions. I went into my bathroom and noticed my toothbrush laying on the sink. It was wet.....and it wasn't me who used it. Grabbing my toothbrush, I march downstairs to bother the boys all snuggled into their tent in the family room. "Who used the orange toothbrush?!" I demanded in my "don't mess with mommy" voice. Bashful hurriedly announced, "Grumpy did." His voice indicated he was glad it wasn't him who had done the dirty deed. "Why did you use the orange toothbrush?" I asked Grumpy. Of course, I am still talking to the tent and listening for the voice within. "I couldn't find mine," he warily answered. "Do you know this toothbrush is mine?! Eeeuuu!...

I've always loved thunderstorms. I love how the whole world outside my window becomes dark as the clouds roll in and thunder rumbles in the distance. I grab whatever blanket is nearby, curl into my chair, and just watch the rain come down in torrents. It always gives me a sense of awe and peace. I am drawn into the scene outside and contemplate my life. I usually feel a smile on my face. During one of my brother's visits, he decided to treat our family to a dining out experience. I warned him of the boisterous nature of his nephews and what it is like to bring them out into public, but being blinded by his love for them, he shrugged it off and proceeded to plop us all in the van. We decided to go to a place where there is an all-you-can-eat buffet. We had all finally sat down with our food when the skies opened up with a crack of thunder and lightning and the rains came pouring in. We had been living in the semi-desert for a couple years and realizing early on its lack of...

That certain chipmunk movie has made an impression on my sons, especially Sleepy. Occasionally, I hear Sleepy singing, "Chicka-wow-wow, chicka-wow-wow." In the beginning of the movie, the chipmunks are storing their nuts for the winter. Thus, the family drama that ensued. I came home with a load of groceries and had the boys empty the bags. Sleepy noticed a package of individually wrapped peanut butter crackers and little boxes of raisins. I don't know why, but it seems my little ones are drawn to little food. (I've taken this little observation and used it to my advantage occasionally when I want them to eat something I've made for dinner... unbeknownst to them, of course.) Among a chorus of "Can we have some crackers?" and "I'm hungry", I informed them all I was saving them for a different day. Sleepy said, "Oh. I guess we are saving them for winter then." Grumpy immediately became exasperated with his little brother. ...

I've never liked coffee. I still don't. It's odd because I love the scent. Waking up in the morning to the smell of coffee is heaven to me. I love to go into the stores that sell coffee, too. I just stop and take a big whiff and I'm sure people look at me funny when they see me sniffing like a dog. The scent is so wonderful to me that it makes me wish I liked the taste of it. Apparently, it is an acquired taste because for me, it's like liquid cardboard. No offense to you coffee drinkers out there. I may have to make sure my doors are locked tonight. Lately, I've been contemplating becoming a coffee drinker. Many people highly recommend this caffeinated beverage. Keeps them going, they say. I've come to the point where I feel tired all the time. It stands to reason considering I have a six-month old and various ages of boys running through my house. I have been getting better sleep, but it just doesn't seem to be working for me. I don't li...

When I think of home, I think of it as a place where I can be myself. I can kick off my shoes and go barefoot. I don't have to put on makeup or fix my hair. I can even wear pajamas till noon if I wanted to. The point for me is to have a comfort zone. Of course, most days I wouldn't even sit on my front porch looking the way I do. My hair looks like it got into a fight with the cat most of the time and I usually smell of baby poop and Pine Sol. That is why I run and hide when the doorbell rings. When I was a teenager, we lived right smack dab next to the church that my dad pastored. Our house was always a magnet for those who just wanted to pop over and say hi. For some reason, no one ever thought of calling first and giving us a head's up. Thus, people usually found us in some sort of disarray whether it be in the form of shoes piled up at the front door or a towel wrapped around my mother's head. It was hard on my mom to live in such a prominent place. Like me...

When Doc was a kid, he remembers various occasions of being in the store with his brother and parents. Occasionally, Doc and his brother would gradually make their way around their parents and end up in front of them as they perused the merchandise in the aisle. As they were trooping down the aisle, all of a sudden a giant hand would clamp onto their heads with brute force and a thunderous voice from above would growl, "You follow us. We don't follow you." Doc also remembers the "shoulder squeeze". Occasionally, he would feel that one whenever he and his brother "acted up". My sons have a healthy fear of their father. After all, he is bigger and has a booming voice that is not pleasant to listen to especially when they are "acting up" in the van and their father is developing a headache from the noise inside the enclosed space. One morning, Doc was still laying in bed trying to get a few more minutes of unconsciousness with all the boys in th...