Chatter.

A lot of talking has gone on here lately.

We are so funny and you wish you could hear us in the car. Every time we go somewhere or come home from somewhere we make so much noise laughing that the baby can’t sleep. Most recently there was talk about how T forgets to pay me on pay day (Thursday) and I forget that she hasn’t paid me until my next day off when I am going to pay bills (shop) or go out. We were defending our forgetfulness when E offered up a new plan.

“If Kimmy doesn’t remember by Sunday morning that she hasn’t been paid then she worked that week for free.”

Later, our conversation turned to poo and monitoring the kids daily dumps. I brought up how Monkey has been pooping two to three times a day lately and they’re HUGE. He’s gotten so used to my exclamations about them that he lies there on the changing table going, “Is it a huge poo?” And I’m like, “OH MY GOODNESS YES.”

So, I said, fine, if I don’t remember to get paid by Sunday and you stop paying me, I’m not changing Monkey’s diapers anymore.”

His plan was turned down after that.

We’ve made a tiny little baby step in potty training this monster. He’s two and a half-ish and he has control over his bowels and could totally be potty trained but he insists on peeing in random corners around the house and he downright refuses to poop on the potty. He gets stage fright and then holds it in for hours and after he missed a day of dumping and started to look a little green and lose his appetite, we thought we’d better lay off.

Whenever he’s home, I’ve started leaving him bottomless and that’s helping, but he still won’t poop.

The kids all start school in a week, so they had two weeks off between summer camp and school. J signed up for pee wee soccer and it’s soooooooo cute. He has tiny little cleats and tiny little shin guards and all these tiny little three years olds gather on the field and kick a ball around. His coach has him playing goalie a lot, because he’s really good. And that’s nice to know, because he’s not good at puzzles or games or blocks or coloring or sitting down for ten minutes and not whining about something, but he is really, really good at sports.

After his first day, he came home able to kick the ball with the inside of his foot, in a perfectly straight line. Anywhere we told him to aim it, he kicked it. He runs pretty fast, probably from our water fights on the front lawn. He’s really sneaky and he can come up behind me without me seeing him, spray me in the back with ice cold water and then take off before I have a chance to retaliate. R isn’t so quick, and she gets hit in the face with water a lot which is why she doesn’t play with us anymore.

She opted to do absolutely nothing for two weeks and she’s been following me around the house a lot and driving me insane.

Yesterday we went to KidStock, which is like WoodStock only nobody is high, the music has hand motions and there are clowns everywhere. Also, the ground is littered with remnants of arts and crafts projects instead of old roach clippings and beer bottles.

No, I have never been to WoodStock.

Anyway, we met Gordon from Sesame Street and it was the highlight of my day. We also met some weirdo clown from Cyberchase who was kind of funny but also a little annoying.

We were hanging out near the stage, shaking our booties to some island music when R spotted a friend of hers and we ran over to say hi. I waved T over from where she was hiding, nursing the baby, and she and the mom gabbed for a minute and made a play date for today.

This kid.

This kid shows up here today and before her mom even leaves, she’s acting like a brat. When she arrived Monkey and the tiny one were both asleep. T was home for an intermission from work and J was home from soccer early because a freak downpour had ruined our day.

This little girl came in here screaming and screeching and teasing J until he cried. Granted, he cries about everything, but little punk kid should know better than to go into someone else’s house and act like a demon spawn. You save that for home, horrible child.

Her mom apologized eighty times and yelled at her and asked what time she should pick her up. For some reason we said 4, giving us three hours with the wicked witch from Great Neck. The mother left and not ten minutes later, this kid had woken up Tiny. T put her in timeout (GO T!) and went to nurse the baby.

She had just decided to stay home, afraid to make me watch this little brat, when the girls miraculously settled down at the craft table to paint. J even joined them and peace reigned.

“Should I go?” T was nervous. Nanny K is leaving on Friday and her going is putting everyone on edge.
“Yeah, they’re fine now. If it blows up, I’ll call you.” At that point it was two and I only had two more hours. T was working locally today, so at the very worst I planned to call her and scream and then go hide in my shower until she got back.

After the craft table, the kids played nicely in the basement for a bit and then somewhere in there our little guest starting teasing J again.

I pulled her aside and got right in her face.

“Do you want me to call you mother right now?”

“No.”

“Good. Then knock it off.”

Poor R spent the entire play date going, “No! No, we can’t do that. I’m telling Kimmy.” She wasn’t even sad when the mom came back to pick her up at four.

Before that happened though, this did.

Monkey woke up around three and joined the kids in the playroom. Tiny baby tried and tried all day to get a nap and couldn’t because of all the noise. Fighting broke out in the playroom and since Tiny was in the living room and no one seemed to want to play in the basement, I decided to separate the kids and cling to my sanity for one more day.

Boys downstairs, girls upstairs.

Well.

Monkey flipped out. He wanted to play with the girls SO BAD that he started throwing the mother of all tantrums. Screaming with tears and snot and hiccups and everything. I tried all my usual routes and when nothing worked, I just carried him upstairs and deposited him in his crib.

He cried in there for twenty minutes or so before I got him to shut up and come back downstairs. By this time, Tiny was awake so I took Monkey into the living room to watch Barney Sing-Along on Netflix, so for those of you who share my Netflix, that’s why that comes up so much, ok? It’s not me. I hate Barney and everything he stands for.

Anyway, he calmed down for like five minutes while that started up and then J heard the big TV was on and came running and Monkey started sobbing, “Don’t want J to watch my Barney.”

I scoffed a couple of times and left the room.

There were more tears and screaming about having to share a bowl of animal crackers and then finally he had worked himself into such a state that he puked a little and that’s what shut him up for good.

He seems to hate puking.

Our horrible guest child went home shortly after that and then T’s mom came to watch the baby while I got dinner on. I love her.

After T got home this evening we were talking some more. About how horrible that girl who is never invited back here was and about how she had such a bad influence on our kids in one afternoon.

While we were talking R kept trying to interrupt and then T stopped her and said, “Hold on! Mommy” and here she pointed at me “is trying to talk to Daddy.” And she pointed at herself. E has been downgraded to “extra” or “third wheel” if he prefers. R didn’t get the joke, but we had a good laugh and then continued talking without letting her say anything.

We mentioned how annoying our mother-in-law is (she was here this morning but I’m too exhausted to relive that experience) and then how I had just been on the phone with my mom for a good hour in intense debate (not argument, no one was mad) and then T looked shocked and apologetic.

“You’ve had three mothers to deal with today! And {horrible child}! Wow.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long day.”

And then we had to stop talking because it was already bedtime and we were holding everybody up. She took the baby and we herded the boys upstairs to find R already naked in the dry, empty bathtub, waiting and waiting for the adults to get it together.

She’s really proven herself today, so I’m thinking it’s time for me to pass on some responsibilities and just relax for a while. Let the five year old with all the energy handle things.