March 31, 2014

A Is For Alligator

First off, I want to tell you about my daughter's love of bacon. It's unnatural. When I go to the store and ask all the kids what they would like from the store, this is usually what I get.

Marky: (an annoyed glare)
Jagger: "Ice cream sandwiches!"
Jet: "Ice cream!"
Jude: "Hard chocolate chip cookies."
Jovie: "BACON!"
Stone: "Fruit snacks!"
Rex, Fox, and Hawk: "AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" (They just like to yell and jump with the rest of them.)

Lesson 180: Daughter loving bacon more than an 80's Footloose Fan = white trash

The second thing I need you to know for this story is what a horrible mother I am. Jovie has been able to identify letters since before she was 2. I take no credit for this. The kudos goes to the many phonics movies she's watched and the multiple learning websites she's played. Yep, I passed the buck. It was just so easy to plop her in front of the TV or computer and get chores done or tend to babies while she learned, "A is for a-a-alligator, and a-a-apple." (All of those programs seemed to use the same examples.)

Jovie is now in kindergarten, with several years of phonics under her belt.

Yesterday, I was flipping through the latest Oriental Trading catalog, and Jovie came over and peeked at the items on the page. It was a luau theme. She pointed to a decoration of a roasted pig. "Ew! Those people are cooking a pig. Wait. What comes from pigs?" she asked.

I smiled, "Ham. Bacon." Her eyes got huge and she began licking her lips like a hungry cartoon character. "You love to eat pigs."

"Yeah I do! I also love eating alligators. They come from apples."

Uh, maybe I've given those websites and movies too much credit. Here I thought she understood she was learning letters. I had no idea she thought she was also getting a science lesson. I wonder if she thinks elephants are hatched from eggs, queens only sew quilts, and all unicorns can play the ukulele.

Looks like it's time for this mamma to roll up her sleeves and do it the right way. Now where are those flash cards and books on animals?


February 11, 2014

Infestation

Did you ever have one of those days? Don't you love when those "special" days spill over into a whole week of fun? I sure do.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of enduring such a week.

It started with the twins throwing Hawk in the oven. OK, I’m being dramatic. They didn't actually throw him in the oven. They just opened the door allowing him to burn his little hands. I’m pretty sure I was more traumatized than Hawk. This incident caused us to spend over $200 in burn supplies and gauze at Rite Aid.

A couple days later I fell down the stairs, hurting my back. That night I laid in bed and thought, “Well, things can’t get much worse.” Oh, spoken like a fool.

The next morning, the kids had a 2 hour delay. I woke up and my back was feeling a great deal better. Not 100%, but definitely better. I spent those few extra hours taking my time, smiling, and saying to myself, “see, things are getting better already.”

That morning, everything was so under control I called out to Jovie, “Jo, come here. We actually have time to do your hair nice this morning. Want me to braid it?” Our mornings had been so chaotic before that and I hardly had time to brush her mop let alone style it.

I pulled a dining room chair into the living room for her to sit on while I braided her hair. She sat and happily sang a little song as I brushed away. When it was free of knots, I used a comb and parted her hair. I looked down, gasped and jumped back in my seat.

Jovie turned around, looking frightened from my reaction. “What mom?” she asked.

I composed myself. “Uh, nothing.”

I hesitantly sat back up and peered into her hair, probably looking like I do when I open up a putrid diaper. I reluctantly used the utmost tip of my finger and pushed a little hair to the side, jumping and gasping again.

Jovie leapt from her chair, “What? What is it?” she demanded.

“Sit!”

She quickly sat back down, looking terrified. I ran to the boys’ door and yelled down, “Boys come here now!”

They emerged from the basement as I was pulling all the dining room chairs into the living room.

“What did we do?” they asked. Obviously, my tone made them believe they were in trouble.

“Nothing. Just sit.”

They all sat down and I began combing through their hair like a crazy person.

“What’s going on?” Jagger asked.

I ignored him. I was panicked and didn’t know exactly how to handle the situation. Looking back now, I didn’t handle it well.

“Mom…….Mom……Mom…..Mom, what’s going on?” Jagger wouldn’t stop.

“LICE JAGGER! WE HAVE LICE!”

“What’s lice?” Jet asked.

“BUGS! BUGS IN OUR HAIR!” I wasn't trying to yell, I just couldn't help myself at the moment. I was in a state of total meltdown.

“BUGS?” Jagger didn't like the sound of that.

I check all the kids, and luckily, only Jovie and Jude had lice. After I finished, I stood and stared at all my kids as they stared back at me, all lined up on chairs, looking for some sort of response. I put one hand on my hip and the other on my chin and thought.

“What do we do now?” Jet asked.

“Um….I’m not sure. Let me go wake up daddy. Stay put.”

I ran upstairs and tried to wake up Adam. “We have lice Adam. LICE! I really need some help.”

“Don’t worry, the reservation isn’t until later.”

I sighed, realizing Adam’s contribution to the day would be no more than cheering me on between snores. I walked downstairs and called the school. Talk about embarrassing. My kids just started at this school and here I am telling them we are disease carrying trash. I let them know that Jovie and Jude were the only kids who had it and they may want to check the rest of the kids in kindergarten and 2nd grade.

I hung up the phone and sat thinking. I looked over at my kids (still on chairs) and picked up the phone again.

“Yeeeeesssss.” My brother’s groggy voice tried to sound cheerful, though I knew he was probably ready to kill me for waking him.

“I need help. We have lice.”

“Huh?....(yawn)…..Why do you need rice? It’s like 8 in the morning.” My brother is only slightly more coherent than Adam in the mornings.

I turned the phone so my lips were touching the mouthpiece, “No, LICE. LIIIIICE!”

“Oooh. Ok, I’m coming.”

I hung up the phone and looked at the worried faces of my kids (still on chairs). I felt horrible. I knew I had just scared the crap out of them and it wasn’t really that bad. “You guys can take your uniforms off. You get to stay home today. We all have to wash our hair with special shampoo. Why don’t you go downstairs and watch some tv.” They all jumped up and ran down. I called after them, “Don’t sit on the couch, please. I’m going to have to clean it.”

Jagger let out a moan, then yelled, “I JUST WANT MY LIFE BACK!”

Slightly dramatic.

While I waited for my brother, I started on washing bed linens. I had to get a move on it. I knew it was going to be a whole day event. Never do I wash ALL bed linens in one day.

My brother appeared and I made yet another trip to Rite Aid. (Remind me to buy stock.) I dropped $100 on lice shampoo. $100! Big families should not get lice. What a rip off.

I got home and my brother and I started cleaning kids. We started with Jovie and Jude. We combed and picked through their hair, looking like primates, for almost 2 hours. While we worked on them, my brother’s girlfriend came to help, too. She asked what she could do. I suggested turning the laundry around. She came back up with a frown and something behind her back. “What?” I asked, knowing it wasn't going to be good. She pulled Jude’s brand new 2DS out from behind her, “This was in the washer.”

My stomach lurched, “Oh no. I didn't even check his bed for those types of things. We just bought that for him.” I looked at my brother, “Well, that’s another $100 down the drain.”

It took 7 hours to shampoo and pick through all the hair in our house. It also took 13 hours to wash almost all of the bed linens. And guess what? My dryer broke. Ok, so it just takes double the time to dry as it used to. I imagined it coughing and spitting as I dried the last few loads of comforters, “hack….hack….Why are you doing this to me lady?....hack, hack…Can’t.Go.On...wheeeeeeze.”

Oh, and don’t forget my sweeper broke, too. I watched it smoke for a good 20 minutes.

At the end of that day, I sat at the table with Adam, Clayte, and Emily. We all looked haggard. I mumbled, “I can’t believe how much money I’ve wasted this week on nonsense.” I leaned back in my chair, “Burnin’ Benjamins.”

Clayte chuckled, “Yeah, you’re a baller.”

The best part of the lice epidemic? The school nurse telling me they checked all the other kids and no one else had lice.

“Do your kids go to daycare?”

“No. But my house is like a daycare.”

“Have you shopped at the Red, White, and Blue store?”

“No.”

“Have you been anywhere with a lot of kids?”

“Nope. We never go anywhere.”

“Then I have no idea where they could have gotten it.” She looked me over and I could only guess what she was thinking.

Lesson 179: Being such dirty people that lice can just spawn out of nowhere = white trash

The rest of the week I was very cautious. Peering around every corner and waiting for things to spontaneously combust. Things weren't too terribly bad, but in the last 3 hours of my week, I came down with a cold, Stone’s fingers got smashed in a door, Jovie’s ceiling light got broken, and the police showed up to respond to a 911 call made from my house.

“Dispatch said it sounded like kids,” the officer told me.

I guess dumb things just needed to squeeze themselves in before the week was up.


That night, I couldn't jump in my bed fast enough. I threw the covers up over my stuffy face and offered up a prayer of thanks. Thank you God for this week. Thank you for my kids being healthy enough to have hair to have lice in. Thank you for our beds and warm blankets to break a dryer. Thank you for medicine to help Hawk’s hands, my back, and now my sinus pressure. Thank you for family to help me through stressful moments. And most importantly, thank you for helping me survive with a few shreds of sanity still intact!

January 24, 2014

Twin Turmoil

I've been getting a lot of flack these past few months due to the lack of blogs. All I have to say is, 

"THE TWINS ARE TWO!"

This is the real deal. They blew out those four tiny candles and the air raid sirens went off. I should have went and got in a bunker somewhere, but alas, I've stayed above ground and dealt with all the horrifying consequences. The words, "I'm not going to survive these twins," spilling from my mouth several times a day, since.

The only reason I can sit here right now and write is because the twins hid my dust pan, yet again, and I desperately needed to clean up the bowl of cereal they dumped on the ground. I couldn't find it. (It was found hours later under the pile of toys they also dumped on the floor, not to play with, obviously just to hide the dust pan.) I went downstairs to see if they had taken it to the boys' room. On my way down, I saw one of the boys' uniform shirts laying on the stairs. I bent down to pick it up and lost my footing. I fell down the remaining stairs and seriously hurt my back. (They don't call the things on my feet "slippers" for nothing.) I feel like it was a well thought out plan by my twins. So, after my near assassination, my brother and his lovely girlfriend insisted I rest while they deal with my miniature criminal masterminds.

I'm telling you, these two aren't normal. 

My life isn't the only one they've targeted. Just a few days ago, about an hour after dinner, I heard a heartbreaking scream coming from the kitchen. I went in to find my sweet little baby with his tiny hands on the door of the oven, with dried cereal around his feet.I'm a microwave mom and this is what I get for trying to cook. Rex and Fox stood beside him looking like The Shining twins. Were they acting out some weird version of Hansel and Gretel? "We'll lure Hawk out to the kitchen with a trail of Fruit Loops, then we'll push him in the oven!"

Murder isn't the only thing on the twins daily "to-do" list. Their day usually consists of at least one act of vandalism and destruction of property, breaking and entering, threats of terrorism, theft, and the occasional corruption of minors.

They went through a egg throwing stage. If I left the room for anything, I came back to broken eggs on the floor. Go to the bathroom. Egg. Turn the laundry around. Egg. Change the baby's diaper. Egg. Get the mail. Egg. I called my mom one day, in tears, after cleaning yet more egg off my floor. "What do I do?" I asked, hoping for some secret tidbit of wisdom.
"You're just going to have to stop doing everything, and never let them out of your sight."
"I was going to the bathroom, Mom! What about when I have to go to the bathroom?" I felt completely crazed.
"Well, I'm afraid you'll just have to hold it." My mom snickered on the other end of the line.
What? No easy solution? No magical vitamins they could take to inhibit their "creativity"? No. Nothing. Unfortunately, I knew my mom was right. 

Now, there are a few problems with this solution. One, I'm a busy individual. Adam pretty much lives at our restaurant, which leaves me to take care of 9 kids and a house all by myself. People need fed, dishes need done, diapers need changed, homework needs finished, doctors need called, and the list goes on and on. I've tried various means of restraint, but they've figured out the secrets to baby gates, baby proof doorknobs, door locks, stove knob locks, how to get out of cribs, and how to get out of Johnny-Jump-Ups. Two, the twins have a super power. The power to divide! They have the ability to separate and cause damage in two places at the same time. This should not be confused with the equally disturbing super power to combine! This super power combines their strengths to conquer anything that stands in their way. 

Like naps. 

Let me tell you how they got out of their cribs, before Rex's was taken down. In our old house, we had two cribs and a set of bunk beds in one room. The bunk beds were a hand-me-down and the ladder wasn't the one that belonged with the bed, so, it couldn't be properly attached. I had my suspicions when they would appear downstairs when they should have been sleeping. One day, I secretly watched in horror to see that I was right. First, Fox would throw Rex all his pillows and blankets. Rex would then pile those on top of his pillows and blankets, creating a big mound. Then, he would climb that pile and escape from his bed. Once on the floor, he'd go to the bunk beds. He would take the ladder and put it in Fox's bed and Fox would escape.

Now, I'm sure many of you are saying they should be doing ample amounts of time in time-out. They do. Trust me. This adds to the joy. Once, they were in time-out for coloring all the upstairs doors with a Sharpie. While I cleaned the doors (that stripped off the paint), Rex headbutted the wall and put a huge hole in the drywall. If that wasn't enough, later in time-out, one of them ripped off a piece of the bull-nose floor trim and chiseled at the hole until it was triple in size.

SOMEONE CALL THE NUTTY WARD!

Speaking of calls, the other night I put the twins to bed and then helped Jagger with his homework. A couple hours into it, Jagger had a paper he had to complete by himself. This type of situation causes him great anxiety. So, I told him, "I'll stay by you. I'll just be over here on the computer." I got on Facebook and saw I had 14 notifications! 14? Never have I had 14 notifications. I clicked on the little planet and saw things like, so-and-so likes your status update, "ccckhdlkjslkdjkjglslkj". Huh? I clicked on my profile and saw that I had somehow posted several status updates, with some extra witty comments posted below, sent my mom a message, and checked in at the New Life Worship Center. I rolled my eyes and walked upstairs. I found my phone hidden in the bottom of Stone's comforter. I think they thought they could pin it on him, but he wasn't in bed at the time of the offense. When I recovered my phone, I also found that they had called Adam and The Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh. How they got that number still baffles me, and I'm terrified to know what books they were looking to check out.

Since I could go on and on about all the moments that made me check my sanity, I'm now just going to show you some photos. Enjoy.

One cereal disaster of many.

This is what happens in the bathroom when they pick the lock. This past week they picked the bathroom lock, got into the bathroom closet, and had a good time with Scrubbing Bubbles. I found Hawk crawling the halls looking like some Colonial in a bubbly powdered wig.

More cereal

Sidewalk chalk became laminate floor chalk.

I have a feeling our old dog's spirit has attached itself to the twins.

Egg time

Sidewalk chalk became couch chalk. Accompanied by crushed saltines and a bunch of Legos.

A room full of kids and NO ONE saw this happening.

They love to dump toys on Jovie's tea parties.

Why do I buy cereal? For the record, this pile above was salvageable, the pile today was sprayed down with Saline Wound Wash. Not salvageable.

Eggs

Do you see the twins?

Within the hour of moving into our new house Rex was coloring on the walls with chalk. Which was odd, because I didn't pack chalk! Within the week, the twins had bleached the carpet, scratched the hard wood floors, and put this lovely hole in their wall.

About a week later, I was scared to death by this. But thanks to Barbie I found all the missing sippy cups full of milk I'd been looking for.

These were the only pictures I could pull myself to take. I would have maxed out the memory on my phone and camera with pictures of just cereal and eggs on my floor. There have also been a few times that it was so bad it wasn't funny. Like when they threw spoons full of Nutella all over the downstairs and in a basket of clean clothes 10 minutes before our Open House. Or when they created a staining paste substance out of Resolve carpet cleaner and my brother's $20 blue hair gel and rubbed in ALL over the new carpet. 

I'm starting to believe the saying, "This too shall pass", should be changed to, "This too shall make you pass out!" 

I need to stop writing. I can feel my blood pressure starting to rise. 

Lesson 178: Thinking about your kids makes you stroke out = white trash

As I sit here and watch Fox use the fireplace shovel to shovel a pile of toys, I wonder where the heck is Rex? But right now I get a break. Thanks Clayte and Emily!



June 16, 2013

Happy Father's Day

For Mother's Day, I receive a bunch of handmade gifts that my kids make in school. Unfortunately, Father's Day is in the summer, so figuring out gifts for Adam falls on my shoulders.

Usually, I just buy him something he tells me he wants. This year I thought to myself, Hey, the kids are old enough now to tell me what they would like to get for their Dad. I couldn't wait to hear what their little creative minds would come up with, not to mention a tad scared of the potential pricetag.

To tell the truth, I was a little jealous. Not that I don't love the little gifts my kids give me, but it's not like the beautifully written (and grammatically correct) poem my second grader gave me was thought up by himself. If it was, holy crap! Comparing our relationship to a flower? This eight year old is deep! No, I'm pretty certain ten other moms received the same poem.

I got out a piece of paper and a pen. "Hey Stone," I called my three year old over, "What do you want to get Daddy for a present?"

He smiled, "A spoon."

"A spoon?" I asked, feeling a little disappointed.

He ran to the utensil drawer, grabbed an every day run-of-the-mill spoon, and brought it to me. "Like this," he said.

"Ooooookay." I scribbled spoon on my paper.

"JUUUDE!" I yelled downstairs, "Come here please." Jude ran upstairs. "I'm going to the store to get presents for Daddy for Father's Day. What would you like to give him?"

Jude put his finger on his mouth, "Hmmm..." He thought for a few seconds then shrugged, "I think I should just get him some cigarettes."

"What? No! We aren't getting Daddy anything that's going to kill him. Think of something else."

His face lit up, "I know! I want to get him a toothbrush." He then gave me a very concerned look, "I don't think he brushes his teeth."

"He brushes his teeth!" I snapped at him.

Jude twisted his face, "Are you sure? His teeth are really yellow."

"That's from smoking so many cigarettes," I told him.

"Oh. Well, I still want to get him a toothbrush....and some cotton candy. Daddy loves cotton candy. Aaaaaand I want to get him some man soap so he smells better." Jude finished his list and skipped away.

Things weren't going as well as I had hoped. Jude was our wild card. I was expecting something ridiculous like a rhinoceros in a clown car. I reluctantly jotted down toothbrush, cotton candy, and man soap.

That was when Jet appeared from his room. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm going to go get presents for Dad. What do you want to give him?"

Without skipping a beat, "A toothbrush."

I slammed my fist on the table, "No. Jude is already getting him a toothbrush."

"Oh. Ok, then I'll just get him some mint gum so his breath smells better, and some deodorant." He turned his head toward the living room and found his brother, "Hey Jude, you want to play Minecraft?" They both ran away.

I wrote mint gum and deodorant.

Jagger was the only one left. (Jovie was coming with me.) Did I even want to ask? Knowing Jagger, he'd probably want to get him something that dealt with Star Wars. "Jagger!"

Jagger emerged from the basement, "What Mom?"

"What do you want to get Dad for Father's Day?"

He thought for a moment while he did a little jig for me, "Uh...I think I better get him a toothbrush."

"WHAT THE HECK?" I yelled. Jagger seemed slightly scared by my outburst. I calmed myself. "You can't. Jude is already getting him a toothbrush."

"Oh." I could tell he was thoroughly bummed out, and it took him a good long while to think of something else. Like a toothbrush was the only thing he could come up with. "Uh...I don't know. Can I just get him something that smells good, like spray?"

I sighed. "Sure Jag." He ran away. Cologne was the last thing on my list.

"Don't forget cotton candy!" Jagger yelled from somewhere in the house.

I added cotton candy.

I looked at the list and thought, cold as ice kids. Cold. As. Ice. Good thing I was still in charge of the three littlest kids' presents.

Lesson  177: when your kids are allowed to buy you any present in the world and they ALL want to buy you a toothbrush = white trash

At the store, I had to talk Jovie out of getting her dad denture toothpaste. Not that she knew what it really was, but I began to rethink my previous jealous thoughts. I forget from time to time how brutally honest kids can be. Now, I am extemely thankful for those teacher-thought-out gifts. We mothers are protected! I'm sure if my kids would have been in charge of my Mother's Day gifts I would have opened Spanx, a case of Slim Fast, and a gift certificate for Botox.

As I stood in line at the dollar store, with a conveyer belt full of bags of cotton candy, I was kind of depressed about how my plan turned out. I looked behind me. Jovie stood talking the ears off of a man and his son, telling them about cat toys. I noticed the guy looking at all the cotton candy. I laughed, "We have 9 kids, and most of them wanted to get my husband cotton candy for Father's Day." He smiled.

As we were leaving I heard the man say to the cashier, "Wish I was that dad!"

I chuckled to myself. Do you buddy? Do you really?

When we got home, I gave each kids their own gift bag, and told them to decorate it by painting something they like to do with their dad. You know what? The bags are my favorite part. This was where their love for their father came through.

Stone said his favorite time with Daddy was when they ate chocolate together. Jovie painted a whale and said she liked watching fish with him. (Not sure when that happened, but whatever.) Jude painted a cute picture of when Adam takes him to the restaurant. Jet painted for an hour, and created a beautiful picture of when they cleared the woods for their fort. Jagger's picture of Adam hugging him made me a little teary, and he wanted the bag to say, "I love your squeezes!" Finally, the older kids and I came up with sayings for the twins' bags and Hawk's bag. Fox's said, "I love your snuggles," since Fox makes Adam hold him constantly. Rex's said, "I love your headbutts." That's their special thing. Don't ask. That "special thing" ended up giving me a fat lip one night when I tried to give Rex a bedtime kiss. Hawk's bag said, "I love to look at you." We laughed really hard at that one! He's only 3 months old. It's not like his bag could say, "Hey, I love when we do oragami together!"

How jealous would that dad at the dollar store be now?

Happy Father's Day Adam! We love you so very much!......Don't forget to brush!

May 29, 2013

Nunquam Non Paratus

"Nunquam non paratus." This is the Johnstone clan's, from which my husband and children are descended, family motto. It means, "never unprepared." A motto that totally makes sense when it comes to my husband, his siblings, and his father. This trait is obviously a strong one that has been passed down for centuries. They are like a bunch of MacGyvers. Seriously. They never stress out, they just make things happen. If you don't have something you need, they will fashion something out of random crap laying around, and the things they make work just as well (if not better) than the thing you needed.

Unfortunately, it is very apparent that I married into this family. One of these things is not like the others! My family's motto probably means "totally unprepared". 

The hot weather hit Pittsburgh out of nowhere this year. It was 40 degrees, then BAM, it was 90. Poor Jovie, being the only girl, had no shorts, and Stone didn't have any clothes either. Being our 5th boy, the clothes that have been passed down for 13 years, went through not only my older boys, but my little brothers, and nephew as well. These clothes had become more like shreds of cloth than actual clothes. I gave up on these and threw them away last summer. So, for the first couple of hot, muggy days, my two little ones were running around outside in sweat pants. "Unprepared Mother".

Lesson 175: little kids running around outside in sweat pants in 90 degree heat, with 100% humidity, while you sport shorts and a tank top = white trash

Finally, Adam had a day off and I could go get them some new threads. Adam was working in the yard, and I couldn't leave Hawk. So, I grabbed him up and went to Target.

Let me ask a question. How many babies have I had? I have had 9 babies! Can I ask another question? What kind of mother of 9 leaves the house without a diaper bag? "Unprepared Mother", that's who.

We got to Target, and of course, Hawk starts crying as soon as we get in the store. Frustrated, I picked him up and tried to find clothes to fit Stone. I picked up a shirt. I looked at it for one second and Hawk decided to poop. And not just a little poop, he pooped right out of his clothes. There was poop running down his leg, and all over my arm. This is when I remembered the diaper bag. "Unprepared Mother!"

Last question. What does an Unprepared Mother of 9 do when she and her baby are covered in poop in public?

Lesson 176: using a random hand wipe you find in your purse, that you stole from Buffalo Wild Wings months ago, to wipe the poop off your arm and babies leg, in the kids' clothes department, then putting the poopy wipe back in your purse, and continue shopping until you're done = white trash

Ok, one more question. Did I learn my lesson? Nope. I took Hawk to the doctor yesterday completely diaper bagless. Luckily, no poop.

I pray my kids inherit that Johnston gene!

April 18, 2013

No Mas Huevos!

In 2010, following Stone's birth, I developed a brief allergy to eggs. It was awful, because I love eggs. So, I would eat them and then have stomach cramps. This lasted a few weeks.

Again, after the birth of the twins, I got abdominal pains after eating eggs. It was never too bad, but it was annoying.

After I gave birth to Hawk eggs became my enemy. The abdominal pains were horrible this time around. I couldn't even eat things with a little bit of egg in it without severe pain. I stayed away from eggs for awhile, but they were calling my name one night, and I decided to eat 3 fried eggs.

Big mistake.

The next thing I knew, I was on my knees, my face was smashed into my bed, and my arms were extended and holding a screaming infant. I wanted to die! The pain was so horrific it made me sick to my stomach, and Adam insisted he take me to the hospital. Of course, I was perfectly fine after I had up-chucked the eggs.

When my Mom was here we discussed my weird temporary allergy that I only get after I give birth. My Mom started laughing. She had figured out the secret.

Lesson 174 : In fear of fertilization, your body rejects all eggs....even if it's from a chicken = white trash

Thanks Mom for your medical discovery. You should have been a doctor!

February 28, 2013

Facts

There are many, many things that happen in the Johnston household as a result of me trying to do something else. Here are a few examples:

1. If I mop the floor, before I even put the mop away, a sippy cup will leak, someone will lose all bowel function, or there will be peanut butter smeared on my freshly cleaned surface.

2. If I sweep the floor, within seconds, someone will drop a bowl of dry cereal and at least 3 kids will step on it before I get a chance to clean it up.

3. If I clean the toilet, before I leave the bathroom, someone will come and pee on the seat.

4. If, at the end of the night, all the dishes are in the dishwasher and it is running, all my kids will want cereal as a snack, leaving a stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

5. If I need a few more bowls to fill the dishwasher at the end of the night, so I can run it, all my kids will eat a granola bar for snack.

6.If I take a shower, as soon as I turn off the water, someone will come in and leave the door wide open.

7. If I go to the bathroom I will be followed by my entourage.

8. If someone asks me if my kids have all been healthy, one of my kids will become ill within the hour.

9. If I receive a gift, my children will break it, steal it, or use all of it by the end of the week.

10. If the older kids are in school, and all the younger kids take a nap, someone will call me on the phone. (I'm not meant to sleep.......EVER! The world is against me on this.)

11. If I need everyone to get up early, they sleep in.

12. If it's a day that I could use an extra half hour of sleep, all the kids get up before 5.

13. If I change a diaper without feces in it, that child will poop five minutes later.

14. If I run out of paper towels, at least a half a gallon of milk will be dumped onto the floor.

15. If I finish all the laundry, Adam will come home with two work shirts and tell me they need to be washed by the next day.

16. If I leave a basket of folded laundry unattended for any span of time, when I return it will all be unfolded on the floor with at least 2 kids screaming and fighting over the empty basket.

17. If we replace flooring, it will be damaged within a week. ex.) We put white carpet down in the hallway and two days later Jagger threw-up blueberries on it. Or when Adam rolled out the new carpet in our room. It wasn't even secured down before Jovie and Stone dumped half a can of Kilz in the middle of the room. Or when we put laminate flooring down in the living room and the kids decided to push the couch, that conveniently had a screw sticking out of the bottom of it, half way across the room.

18. If given a choice between a box full of shiny toys and a box of my book-keeping work from the restaurant, the kids will choose my work box. EVERY TIME.

19. If we go somewhere and forget the diaper bag, when we arrive all children in diapers will have pooped.

20. If I start a blog that is making a list, and want it to be a decent length, I will give birth to a new baby before I finish, and typing one sentence will be WAY more difficult than it should be! I'm ending here b/c half of these phenomenons are happening as I speak, and to top it off, I have a newborn baby crying to be nursed! Welcome our little baby Hawk to the crazy Johnston clan!