I Wonder How Long It Will Take Him To Notice

It's no secret that Mr. Schmitty and I take pleasure in busting each other's chops. Our marriage thrives on laughter and what could be more entertaining than poking fun at your significant other? Thus, every once in a while, when things get a bit stressful and a bit too serious around here, I find the need to amuse myself.

I have a bit of a twisted, child-like sense of humor. It doesn't take much for me to double over in sheer cackling delight.

In other words, I can be completely immature.

For instance, when I needed a little pick me up, all it took was the hubby's cell phone and I was happy again. And I will never forget the fun I had with this one!

Finding pleasure at Mr. Schmitty's expense can be a total euphoric experience.

It's a regular Romper Room around here at times, I tell you. Well, Romper Room with a dash of slapstick comedy teetering on the inappropriate.

Okay, so some of it is COMPLETELY tasteless but we get each other, so it works.

Lately, I've been in the mood for some tomfoolery. I've developed a twitch in my left eye and that usually indicates I'm a bit tense.

Now, before I divulge how I spent my day, let me give you some back story.

Mr. Schmitty has an Xbox Live addiction, most in particular, he needs his Call of Duty fix on a regular basis or he'll quite possibly implode.

He can become quite immersed in character during game play. You should see him sitting in the recliner, which he moves right in front of our flatscreen, wearing his helicopter pilot-looking headset with mic. His gamertag has the word Bulldog in it, you know, so he sounds tough.

Heh.

So, there he'll sit, he and his bad self, playing into the wee hours of the morning without so much as a yawn to slow him down. Something, I might add, that drives me nuts because when he and I spend "quality couple time" together, I'm usually prying the remote from his sleep induced grip of steel and wiping the drool off of my shoulder.

But I should understand; Xbox is the shit, yo.

Not wanting to be the wife that interferes with her husbands hobbies, I went online today to renew his yearly gold membership.

While I was online, I noticed his avatar:

It is actually a very good likeness of him.

Then I noticed something else. And the evil thoughts began to manipulate the computer mouse. I had no control.

Really.

The final results produced this new and improved version of Mr. Schmitty:I'm hoping to be present to see the look on his face when he finally realizes his "persona" looks a bit like Dwayne Schneider on psychedelics.

I'm thinking he might want to change his gamertag to something a little more hip. Maybe something with RicoSauve in it.

I'm sure the "buddies" he plays with will have fun helping him choose an appropriate moniker!

This Guy Sees You When Your Sleeping Too

Have you heard of the Elf on the Shelf? I never had up until about two weeks ago.

The Elf, one of Santa's helpers, makes his appearance in your home before the holidays. His sole responsibility is to report to Santa to let him know if the children of the household are worthy of the Nice List or not.

WOW!

I need me one of those! You'd think that the Schmitty Kids would be perfect angels before the arrival of the jolly old soul. But the closer we seem to get to Christmas, the more they seem to be begging for coal in their stockings.

I keep telling them that Santa is going to fly on by our house....laughing all the way!

Hey!

So, out I went to search for this Elf. I figured, I've tried everything else, what did I have to lose? I was desperate people. Desperate, I say!

I guess my kids are not the only ones with behavioral issues lately. The Elf on the Shelf was no where to be found. Sold out here, sold out there, sold out everywhere!

Dang.

But then I got to thinking. A sweet, little Elf, could he deter my strong willed brood from wreaking havoc?

BWAAHHHAHHHAA!

I told Mr. Schmitty that a light bulb had been flipped on in my evil mind. I've explained, in the past, about my children's fear of the dark and most anything scary, right?

"I couldn't find an Elf," I told my husband. "But I think I've come up with a more effective solution!"

"Oh yea?" He looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

He knows me too well.

"Yes, all I need to do is put on a Freddy Kruger costume and tell them, "Behave, or I'll be back!"

blink. blink.

"Oh come on!" I said, "You KNOW that would work!"

He's no fun.

Don't Swallow Your Gum!

My daughter LOVES bubble gum. I am constantly finding her rifling through my purse looking for the pack of Trident. She chomps away at it like a pro. She reminds me of a gum cracking waitress from the '50s. Or a cow chewing it's cud.

Mr. Schmitty bought her a pack of her very own at the grocery store. Darn those candy displays at the checkout.

I did not know she was in possession of this pack of gum, not until I began to find the wrappers, like a trail, to her room. After making her hand over the remaining pieces, I told her that she is only allowed to chew ONE piece at a time. I explained that I would hold on to her gum and that if she wanted some, she needed to ask.

I left her room and walked into my bedroom. Here I found shreds of foil, along with an apparently chewed up gum wrapper.

RUBY!

Thus, another reason that R. should not be allowed to "hold on" to her own package of gum. She leaves it on the coffee table and on the rug in the living room. She might as well put it in the dog's food bowl.

I called R. and T., as he can have a tendency to leave things lying around too, to my computer. I told them that they needed to be more careful with their things and to make sure to put them in their places. Especially food like items. I showed them the half eaten wrappers and then told them that I needed to show them something.

I pulled up a picture on the Internet and said, "This is what happens when you swallow gum. I'm not sure if Ruby actually ate any gum, but we don't want this to happen to her if she farts, do we?"


Their eyes got big and their faces took on a mixture of concern and amusement. I'm sure they were contemplating whether or not I was pulling their leg.

I then pulled up this next picture. I pointed to each word on the poster and read it out loud. T. and R. looked at each other. Could this really happen?


I do believe they will keep track of their gum from now on.

It Will Be Like Freaky Friday...Only It Will Be Monday

The kids SO need school to start. For their own good and for my own sanity. You know how it is, they have gotten to the middle of August and now they are bored. And I'm tired.

I'm tired of the bickering. The back talk. The laziness. The battles. I'm just so very tired.

All three of my rugrats lovelies will be attending school this year. W. is going to the middle school for 5th grade. He'll be leaving the house, to catch the bus, at 7:15 am. Yea, so not prepared for that fight. T. is going to the elementary school to begin half day kindergarten and R. is going to the same school to attend half day pre-school. They will be going every day in the afternoons. At.the.same.time. I get two and a half hours a day to myself.

Can I get an AMEN?!

Tonight when the war that is known as bedtime began, I told them that I had a great idea for tomorrow. I am going to be the kid and they were going to play parent. The three of them began to laugh and cheer. "Yeah!! We get to tell mom what to do!!"

I then burst their bubble with a breakdown of how the day will probably go.

• When I wake up I will climb in bed with you and poke you. If that doesn't rouse you, I will pull strands of your hair.
• I will tell you that "I don't have to go to the bathroom!" even though I'm doing the potty dance.
• I will pee standing up and will stretch at the same time spraying urine all over the seat and anything else within range.
• I will walk out of the bathroom without wiping, cleaning up the pee, flushing, or putting the seat down.
  
• You have to make me breakfast, when I decide to tell you what I want because "I just don't know!" After you make it, I will tell you that I changed my mind.
• I will spill my milk all over the table and onto the floor.
• I will leave my dirty dishes on the table and flop in front of the television.
• After you tell me to do my chores, at least 50 times, I will ask you what you said.
  
• I will get dressed and leave my clothes on the floor next to the hamper.
• You will notice that I did not change my underwear. You will tell me to, I will grunt at you and roll my eyes.
  
• I will brush my bottom back teeth only.
• I will squirt toothpaste all over the vanity.
• I will forget to wash my face, brush my hair, and make my bed.
• In between each of these steps I will ask you if my friends can come over to play. You will need to remind me that they can come over AFTER my chores are complete.
• I will invite my friends over to play Wii. We will get hungry so you will have to make us lunch.
• But first you will have to do a load of laundry after you clean out my underwear because I will poop in them even though I'm old enough not to.
• You will also have make sure I shower the stench off of me.
• I will waste twenty minutes in the shower and when you ask if I am done, I will say I didn't even start yet.
• You will need to dry the bathroom because I managed to splash water on every inch of surface.
• You will need to clean yourself up and continue making us lunch.
• I will argue with you that I'm done eating my lunch and want ice cream even though I only took one bite of my sandwich.
• After I finally decide to eat, I will do so over my lap and not the plate, making sure the crumbs fall to the floor.
• I will watch Ruby eat the peanut butter and jelly pieces and then proceed to throw it up all over the floor you mopped this morning after the spilled milk incident.
• My friends and I will suck on lollipops and leave the sticky wrappers and sticks on the rug and on the dressers.
• We will then ask for ice cream and cookies.
• We will run through the house screaming because we are now all sugared up.
• I will ask over and over if my friends can stay for dinner. We all want Happy Meals with a toy. All 10 of us. What do you mean you don't have any money? Just go to the bank.
• You will send my friends home and I will begin my forty minute meltdown. I'm too tired to clean up the mess we made!
• I will mope around until dinner is put on the table. I will complain about everything on the plate. I will not eat my vegetables.
• I will ask for ice cream. Again.
• I will spill my milk. Again.
• I will throw my paper plate on top of the garbage so it falls to the back of the cabinet.
• I will toss my, half a glass left of milk, into the sink and splatter milk all over the kitchen window.
  
• I will not go upstairs to the bathroom until somebody goes with me because there are monsters up there!
• When you tell me to put on my pajamas, I will run into your room, naked, and bounce up and down your your bed tempting you to catch me.
• I will probably get hurt and scream and cry and blame you.
  
• I will argue with you about going to bed until I notice my favorite television show is on. Then I will settle down to watch, only to bounce off the walls, two minutes before bedtime.
• I will say I am hungry. I will say I am thirsty. I will need to go to the bathroom. I will need a hug. I will need a kiss. I will need my quilt fixed. I will need the light turned up. I'm scared, I need you to sit with me. I will whine that "I'm not tired!" I will ask for each of these things, one at a time, after you have gone downstairs and gotten comfortable on the couch.
• All day I will tell you No. I will always have to have the last word. I will talk over you. I will ignore you when you talk. I will tell you that you are unfair. I might even tell you that I hate you even though later, I will swear I didn't mean it.

You all told me that you would put me in time-out in my room.

I'll just do what you all do. I'll do the dead body drop. Try carrying me up the stairs. Heh.

Mummy Won't Play That, Though It's Tempting

Mr. Schmitty and I are very strict on what the kids are allowed to watch on television, especially at night. No gore or horror for them. It's all rainbows and bunnies, and unicorns.

You see, all three Schmitty kids are chicken shits scaredy cats, though obviously, R. isn't as much. She's the badass, compared to my boys, but she feeds off of their fears.

As much as I screen their viewing habits, even though I've set the parental controls on their tvs, W. still has friends. And 10 year old friends can be evil. They show you videos on YouTube of Sasquatch, they talk of Vampires, and their older brothers introduce you to Freddie Kruger.

Of course, poop flows downstream, and that means W. fills in T. and R. when he returns home. He whispers to them in his room, telling them of all the monsters under the bed and in the closet. He's such a good boy, sharing with his siblings. His mama sure did teach him right.

We live in a split-level home. When the sun starts to set, the boys will not venture alone, to any level of the house. They must be accompanied at all times. If I ask T. to get something from the pantry, he'll say, "C'mon R." And she'll go, no questions asked.

That's right, your little sister will protect you.

Now, I was afraid of the dark as a child, a direct result of watching Linda Blair spew green, pea soup. I feel my kid's pain, I really do. The problem I have? They try to use it to their advantage.

W. will be playing his Nintendo DS and I will ask him to run to get me some milk. The extra refrigerator is located downstairs in the laundry room. He's too busy trying to beat the gym leader on his Pokemon game, so he'll start whining that he's scared. It's broad daylight. However, if I said, "W., there is a ten dollar bill on the washing machine, you can......" he'd be gone before I finished the sentence.

The boys will be playing in their rooms for hours before bedtime. The second I say, okay, in bed, time for sleep, they start their shenanigans. "I'm scared, I can't sleep....blah, blah, blah!"

Now, I know I sound like a mean, terrible mommy with no compassion. I try, I really do, but when they try to manipulate the situation because they are being lazy or are trying to stall their bedtime, well, it's kind of annoying.

But, I guess I have to just deal until they outgrow it.

Or I could do something like this:



Even I admit, that is just SO wrong in SO many ways!

Busted!

The kids from across the street were here playing with W. and T. yesterday. They are really good kids that have been friends with W. since he was a toddler. They are here quite a bit, which is fine with me because they keep W. and T. out of my hair busy.

Even though we have known them since they were barely walking, and even though there are times they practically live at our house, they are still very uneasy around Mr. Schmitty and myself. Actually, they are pretty uneasy around most people. J., the 9 year old boy, is shy and sensitive. K., the 11 year old girl, is self-conscious and awkward. I do my best to treat them like they are my own by bringing out my goofy, silly, crazy self to get them to laugh. I try to lighten the mood as much as possible.

Like any other 9-11 year old, they are addicted to their Gameboys. After lunch J., K., and my three kids were sprawled on the living room furniture. Each had a Nintendo DS. They were all in Pictochat sending messages back and forth to each other.

T. needed a bandaid, so he and I went downstairs to find one. He was putting the bandaid on his foot, because you know, HE.HAD.TO.DO.IT, and I held his DS. I glanced down at the screen and what did I see?

The little perverts were channeling Michelangelo! I grabbed the stylus and wrote, "Nice." That only prompted another drawing. Dumb arses! T. doesn't know how to write anything other than his name, didn't they realize it couldn't have been him responding? Did they seriously think he was commenting on their artistic ability?

I wrote, "Inappropriate!" Lord, there was a 4 and 5 year old involved here. Except I really wasn't that worried because the boobs looked like big cartoon eyes and the pee-pee, well it looked more like earmuffs. But that's beside the point.

I didn't know what each kid's screen name was, so I'm not sure which one responded, "Naga? Is that you?" Naga, of course, being T.

"Not Naga, MOM."

'Sonic has left the room', 'Runyon has left the room', 'Hydronoid has left the room', which left only K., scribbling away, lost in her own, innocent world.

The other three? I think they raced each other to the bathroom to check their pants for skids.

He'll Fall For Just About Anything

Our dog, Ruby crapped on R.'s purple, fuzzy rug tonight. Mr. Schmitty was beyond pissed. It's a new rug and it was ruined. You just can't get poop off of that kind of rug.

I was at the dining room table with the kids, trying to help W. study for two tests. Two tests that he failed to remember he was having until today. Two tests that, of course, are to be taken tomorrow.

I was getting slap happy as I was quizzing him and trying to keep the other two occupied. I wanted to keep them away from their father, whose head was spinning as he walked around cursing under his breath. "Damn dog...frickin, frackin, mumble, grumble!"

We had just finished dinner and the steak sauce was still on the table. W. pulled off a dried up, rubbery piece from the neck of the bottle. It was almost black in color and very squishy. I winked at W.

"Ewwwwww!" I said to T. and R. as I picked up the booger-sized drop of steak sauce. "Daddy must have dropped a piece of Ruby poo on the table!!"

"YUCK mommy, don't pick it up!!" yells T.

"Well, I want to make sure that's what it is," I replied as I peered at it more closely.

I held it up to my nose and sniffed. W. almost fell off the chair as he tried to keep himself from laughing.

"It smells like poo."

"Mommy, give it to me, I'll throw it out!" yelled R.

"Wait, I still want to make sure," I continued.

I stuck my tongue out and touched it to the ball of sauce on the end of my finger.

"YUP, that's poo, alright!" I smiled up at T.

I thought he would pass out. He had the most disgusted look on his face. I've ever seen one like that on a kid before. I think he may have thrown up in his mouth a bit.

Meanwhile, W. was hyperventilating next to me. I almost had to give him a paper bag.

"T., seriously, it's steak sauce. Do you think I'd actually taste dog poo or even touch it?"

"You might mom, you are weird, you know."

Touché, by dear boy, touché!

A Cauliflower Bomb

I found a cool book for W. in the bargain section of Barnes and Noble. It is a journal type of book that asks all kinds of questions about him, his friends, school, and his life. W. loves this sort of thing and I thought it would be nice to keep and read when he's grown.

He allowed me to read the sections he completed. It was very interesting and amusing to see how he answered. One questions in particular was, "Does your dad do anything to embarrass you?"

He had written "No" in the blank.

"Dad doesn't embarrass you, at all?" I asked, finding this strange as he has definitely reached that time in his life when his parents are just SO uncool.

"Nope."

"Do I?" I inquired, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Yes mom, you're weird!" he said with a smirk.

"Weird strange or weird funny?"

"Weird funny."

"Oh, I can live with THAT!" I exclaimed.

That night when it was time for lights out, W. began his recent annoying stall tactics. He tried everything under the sun. When he realized he wasn't getting to me, his mood shifted and he became one of those kids you want to ship off to military school. This is his new phase, the nasty, I'm a Pre-preteen with attitude phase.

I wasn't having it. I said goodnight and began to leave the room.

W. sat up in his bunk bed and yelled, "EEEWWW!! T. you stink!"

I looked up at him and replied, "That wasn't T.!" To which he gave me the most disgusted look and threw his blanket over his head before plopping back down on his pillow.

Ahhhh....the sweet smell of VICTORY, how's that embarrassing for ya, my love?!

And The Parents Of The Year Award Goes To....

I guess the Schmitty kids are getting bored with summer vacation already. It's been extremely humid and they don't want to play outside. They do, however, want to run through the rooms screaming like banshees, play WWF as they use my furniture to jump off of and dive onto each other, and they especially want to fight like cats and dogs!

We had one such a day like that last week. I tried, I really TRIED, to keep them occupied. Everything turned into a fiasco. Let's play a game, W. turned into a sore loser. Let's color, T. and R. fought over the same crayon, the green one that we have about ten of. Let's cool off in the kiddie pools, nope it's, "toooo hooooot" (notice the whine). Go read a book, "I donnnnn't waaaaaant toooooo", you see the pattern.

At this point, I am thinking to myself, "You idiot, you just HAD to use the video games as punishment yesterday, didn't you?"

By the time Mr. Schmitty came home from work I wanted to run, screaming from the house, never to return.

He sat the three of them down in the living room for a "family meeting". Picture me making those quotes with my fingers as this really wasn't a meeting, per say, but more of a shut up and listen or I'm gonna beat yer butt type of gathering. I didn't say a word, I'm usually the disciplinarian, so this was a nice change.

After he lectured them into a sleepy state, he told them to go in the playroom and actually use it to play. We stayed upstairs and talked for a few minutes. Then we heard them calling us.

"Mommy, daddy, come here! We are puppies. BUY US!"

I looked at Mr. Schmitty and saw the devilish grin that was spreading across his face. The same one I knew he was seeing on mine. Then I said to him, "They are in Ruby's crate, you know that don't you?"

"Ummm hmmmm...." he says and I know he's thinking what I'm thinking.

We jump up and race to the junk drawer. It's there, oh this is gonna be good!

We walk down the stairs and there they are, all three of them in the dog's crate, barking away.

I'm twirling the padlock on my pointer finger and begin telling the cute little puppies good night. I hand the lock to Mr. Schmitty and he puts in the combination.

Now, my children all have a great sense of humor. They know their father and I like to tease them. They love to tease us back. Mr. Schmitty and I are laughing as this is going on. All evidence is pointing to the reality that this is a JOKE!

I guess I misjudged just how tired my boys were because before we could even get half way across the room, W. and T. burst into tears! R. tough as nails, of course, is laughing hysterically.

OMG! I am the worst mother in the land! I quickly ran over and opened the door. I grabbed up the boys in my arms. I hugged them and started wildly planting kisses all over their heads and faces.

"I'm SO SORRY!! We were only kidding! Do you seriously believe we would lock you up in a cage? You guys know us, we would never do that! We were laughing, you have to know we were teasing!"

I looked at Mr. Schmitty, "I'm going to hell!"

"Or jail!" he replies.

"Yea, maybe for murder!" I say under my breath as I glare at him.

When they were all better and were finally sleeping peacefully in bed, Mr. Schmitty and I went to the other side of the house and laughed until we cried.

Are Those Eyes Following Me?

Thursday night we decided to go out to dinner. It was hot and I was NOT cooking and heating up the house. We wanted to go someplace a little different than our usual T.G.I. Fridays, Ruby Tuesdays, and Applebees type restaurants.

There is a place Mr. Schmitty and I had gone to a few times in the pre-kid years. It's only 20 minutes from our house. I took a look at their online menu to make sure there were child-friendly dishes on it. Great there was!

I was a tad disappointed though, we missed Harley Davidson night which was LAST Thursday. The kids would have LOVED seeing that. After dinner we were lucky enough to see three men roll into the parking lot with their Harleys. They were gorgeous hogs (the motorcycles, definitely NOT the riders). I told the boys to get a good long look because that's as close to a motorcycle as they will ever get. They may be gorgeous pieces of machinery, but unless there is an indestructible bubble around it and one of my guys, ain't no way any of them will ride one! Not as long as I'm alive and kicking. And I told them even if they got one after I kicked the bucket I would come back and haunt them.

So, back to dinner. It's a hopping place, I tell you. Thank goodness it's quite a large building with plenty of seating so we didn't have a wait. It's called The Cabin, which of course you probably have already guessed means it has a log cabin feel. Inside, the walls are adorned with fishing and hunting props. It also is has many taxidermy animal trophy mounts. Yes, I looked that term up. There were huge fish, deer, and even a wolf. It was a little creepy for me, I felt like they were watching me eat every bite of my steak. I was wishing at that point that I had ordered the pasta. The kids on the other hand loved looking at everything.

Right above where we were sitting was a HUGE Catfish. W. asked what fish that big ate. A slight smile spread across the faces of Mr. Schmitty and myself. Another perfect opportunity to mess with their minds.

Mr. Schmitty: "Well, what do you think they eat?"

T.: "Other fishies!"

Me: "Nope."

A puzzled look spread across the boys faces. R. was staring up at the fish and you could actually see the wheels turning in her head.

W.: "What do they eat, really?"

Mr. Schmitty: "Cats, of course."

Me: "Yes, hence the name, Caaatfish."

They looked half horrified and at the same time we saw little smirks forming on their lips because they aren't quite sure if we are messing with them again.

I looked at Mr. Schmitty, "Wait until they see the Kidfish!"

W.: "Where?!"

The three kids start looking all around at the walls.

Me: "Oh no, they have that one alive in a tank. I'll show you when we leave."

T.: "COOL!"

Me: "You just better make sure you eat EVERYTHING on your plates. I'm just saying."

I give them all a nervous look and continue eating my steak.

Muhhhahaaaaa!

My Prince Charming With Soft And Bouncy Hair

W. has always liked his hair longer than I would normally like. I like that clean cut look, but after numerous arguments with him, I agreed to let him grow it out some. Some.

Soon after our conversation, I began to notice the boys getting off the bus in the mornings at his school. Most of them had the same hair style, the longer, I just got out of bed look. Okay, at least he's not being the rebel. He's just trying to fit in. And come to think of it, it is actually easier to take care of now. He's got horrible cowlicks all over and the shorter it is the worse it looks and the harder it is to plaster down.

I just worry about the summer. I know he's going to whine when it's 90 degrees. He's got gorgeous hair, but it's very thick and coarse. He's going to swelter. But he swore to me he didn't care and that he was NOT, I repeat, NOT going to cut it short. I told him if he so much as complained once, he'd have to have it cut like his father has it. That should keep him quiet as Mr. Schmitty has a flat top with it basically shaved on the sides.

Anyway, last night W. was in the shower. I notice a lot of my material for this blog seems to revolve around the shower and the bathroom in general, as evident here, here, oh and definitely here.

Now, as I mentioned a few sentences ago, W.'s hair is very thick and coarse. I told him he should use conditioner in his hair to make it soft. So, last night he is showering and singing his little heart out like Sanjaya. I was in the next room and he asked me how long to keep the conditioner in. "Just a few minutes is good."

After his shower, Mr. Schmitty used the hairdryer to help him dry it. I heard him explaining that I had told him that the conditioner would make his hair soft. I can only imagine the face my dear husband was making during the conversation. Things like that coming from his boys makes him crazy. He'll just look at me and say, "Stop it."

What?!

This morning W. couldn't stop talking about his beautiful locks. I must say it was beginning to wear on my nerves.

I saw my opening to once again mess with my kid. I ran over to him and started running my fingers through his hair.

"Oh W., it's so soft! I could run my fingers through it all day!" I told him the girls would be saying at school.

I starting talking in a sweet, high-pitched voice, "No, let me, it's mmmmyyyy turn!"

"MOM STOP IT!"

"C'mon W. give me a little flip, just one, c'mon just like Prince Charming in Shrek!"



I think he wanted to give me a flip of another kind as he stomped out the door.