I'm sitting here listening to the kids talk, and all of a sudden, Trevor says something that made every single hair stand straight up on end.  "Mommy axed us to do it."  Axed. After explaining that we don't use that word, I broke down the correct pronunciation and made him practice saying it piece by piece.

Me:Ass

Him: Ass

Me: Assskk

Him: Assskk

Me: Asskked

Him: Axxed

Me: NOOOOOOOO!

Him: What? I just said what you said.

We continued on for a good 10 minutes, until I felt he had the hang of it.  Then, he started reading a Dora book to Victoria.  It happened to have, as you may have guessed, the word "asked". So, he gets to the word, pauses, and really concentrates.  Then, he slowly and purposefully says, "axed," turns around, and gives me a thumbs up and a smile.  I didn't have the heart to correct him, so I just smiled an nodded, but, I can tell you what our weekend project will be...

So after another awesomely bad day at work, I picked Sophie up. She was thrilled to see me.  She smiled and waived and waited patiently for me to gather her belongings before whisking her away to the house.  While Wesley and I discussed all of the sordid details of my terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day, I was interrupted by Vic, who wanted to show me her portrait of me:

 She made mention of the picture having a frowny face.  I asked why, and sensing that this bothered me, she quickly changed her mind and said I was smiling.  Then shortly after, Trevor interruped by begging me to look at the city he created with blocks:  And, shortly after that, Sophie woke up from her cat nap to suck down a bottle, all the while, staring into my eyes and smiling. So, I was once again reminded that it doesn't matter what happens from 8-5 every day.  I'm someone's mom.  I'm 3 people's mom.  And, they love me, and to them, I'm perfect.  So, I will continue to deal with my current situation, because it allows me to be an awesome mom and to provide them with opportunities we otherwise couldn't afford.  Hopefully a better opportunity will come along soon, but until then, I'll muddle through each day, knowing that my 3 biggest fans await me every evening, ready to release me from the daily stresses that prove to be so unimportant in the end. 

"Hey". It was so simple, but deliberate.  She repeated it in the same sing songy voice that I used.  Then she said it again, and again.  It was exciting and sad at the same time.  It's the last first word we'll have in the house.  She's holding her own bottle, trying to feed herself with a spoon, and did I mention she's rocking when she sits up in an attempt to try crawling? In a few short years her sweet, innocent babblings will be replaced by teenage angsty yelling, or worse, silence.  So, for now, I will soak up this time in which her world revolves around me, secretly dreading the day that it no longer does.

I remember when I was a kid.  Interim reports went out in the middle of each quarter to let parents know how their kids were doing, I guess so they had a chance to get on them to improve grades before report cards came out.  My mother had very high expectations, even for interims, and given that she was the Assistant Pricipal at my school, she knew when they were issued.   Interim reports were useless. They didn't go on the fabled "permanent record" that schools fool you into believing exists.  They were notices created only to get kids in trouble until report cards came out.  I know this from experience.  I was grounded once for getting an 89 on my interim in Algebra.  In grade school, an 89 is a B, one point away from a B+, mind you.  I was told that wasn't good enough. Why wasn't it an A, I was asked.  My response was that my sister got a D in Algebra, so my B, almost B+, was awesome compared to that.  "She's not a math brain, and you are," I was told. So, I was grounded until report cards came out. 

In the meantime, I was expected to do extra credit to bring that grade up.  This entailed going to the computer lab to practice Algebra equations before school.  Thinking I could outsmart her, I lied and said I went.  This proved to be to stupid, since she worked at my school, and could easily check behind me.  So, in the middle of the Pledge of Allegiance, my mother pulled me out of the class, and yelled at me in the hall for lying, loud enough that other kids told me they heard it.  I'm pretty sure that scarred me for life, and she's lucky I didn't turn into a serial killer.

Cut to 15 years later, and my 7-year-old is bringing home interim reports. He made a 96 in Language Arts, a 93 in Math, a 100 in Social Studies, and a 96 in Science.  That's right, all A's.  And, we barely had to push him.  So there, Mom. How do you like that?  With barely and pushing, my son was able to get straight A's on his interim.  And, he's the product of 2 slack ass procrastinators.  Turns out I am an overachiever in exactly one area of my life- having kids.  I give birth to geniuses.  Beautiful geniuses.  Hey, it's better than my mom could do.

Tonight was one of those few blissful evenings when the kids managed to get along for more than 5 minutes. They started off by wrestling one another, then chased each other around the house, and finished with hide-and-go-seek.  I think my favorite part was Victoria hiding in the same spot each time (under the kitchen table) and giggling uncontrollably as soon as Trevor came looking for her.  She has an infectious laugh.  I think it was a therapeutic evening for Trevor as well, because he seems to be handling the dog situation much better tonight.

My horrible week reached its pinnacle this evening when Wesley and the kids took Buster out for a walk.  One of our neighbors saw the dog and identified him as belonging to a girl who lives down the street.  We explained to Trevor that we were going to have to give him back to his owners because it wouldn't be fair for us to keep him.  We praised Trevor for being such a good caretaker and friend to Buster, whose real name is Stewie.

It didn't matter what we said, Trevor was devasted. I fought back tears as I wiped his.  As much as I didn't want the dog, I would have given anything to be able to keep him for Trevor's sake.  Wesley took him back out tonight and met the owners down the street.  Turns out, they have a little boy about Trevor's age, and they have been searching frantically for the dog.  He's going back to a good home with people that love him.  Wesley said as soon as he saw the little boy, we were an afterthought.

So, as I type this, we have a 7-year-old sleeping in our bed, waiting for us to comfort him. I know he'll get past it.  He's already handling it much more maturely than I would expect.  But, just in case, I'm going to take a quick gander at Petfinder to see what other creature is in need of love from a little boy with so much to give.

Today I discovered my son is a hustler.  We took the kids bowling today, which was just supposed to be innocent fun.  What it turned into was a cutthroat competition between me and a 7-year-old.

The first game should have clued me in that this kid may have untapped talent. He beat me then, too, but not by much.  The bumpers were up for him and Victoria, and in my defense, I tried not to use them, while every one of his balls bounced wildly against them.

As a side note, bowling with Victoria was like that scene in Uncle Buck where he takes the little kids bowling, and Gaby Hoffman rolls the ball so slowly that it touches a pin and doesn't even knock it down.  Vic used the same technique. At one point, hers actually stopped in the middle of the lane, and we had to send another ball down to knock it out of the way.  Also, she managed to get 3 gutter balls even with the bumper guards raised.  That takes true talent.

Anyway, after the first game, I decided to make a friendly wager with Trevor.  I said he could choose where we eat lunch if he won, and I would get to choose if I won.  I planned to really try this time around, because I refused to eat at McDonald's for the 3rd time this weekend.  Well, imagine my dismay when he knocked down 9 pins each of the first 2 rounds.  Then, the spares started followed by a couple of strikes.  And, I really need to describe his technique.  It was what I would call crackhead savant.  He would grab the ball, run up to the lane, and throw it with all of his might all in one crazy flailing motion.  I really thought he would lose a toe before it was all said and done.  I should have known because he plays the Wii exactly like that where he bounces around like he's tripping on acid, and he manages to beat all of us at bowling, ping pong, golf, etc.

When it was all said and done, he had scored 117, and I had 88.  29 points, people.  The kid not only beat me,  he crushed me.  Wesley got a huge kick out of it and still has not let me live it down.

So, the next time I need some spare cash, I'm going to hit the bowling alley and make some wagers with unsuspecting teenagers.  They'll never see him coming.

When I decided to do this website, I was provided a set of rules.  One was never to blog about work, since we have 3 kids, and it's all about the Benjamins (or, Washingtons, in our case).  The other was not to write anything too personal about our family and definitely not our marriage.  I'm not sure if this qualifies, but I need to discuss...so...

My friend Melissa is married to this guy Lesley.  Lesley has been a borderline tree hugger for years.  During Melissa's family's annual Christmas tree excursion in which they cut down a live tree from a tree farm, Lesley protests by sitting in the car.  That was the first inkling that he was a closet hippie.

Then, the recycling started.  It was innocent enough- plastic bottles and bags.  Then, food boxes, cans, and glass.  It has  grown into an ordeal in which the recyclable material no longer fits in the tub provided by the county, so a special trip to DHEC was required.  Imagine the excitement when a new recycling area was created only a few miles from the house.

There had been talk of a more fuel efficient car, but surprisingly, the Ford Focus does pretty well in that respect, and it's paid off, so that was a no go.  There has also been an ongoing discussion (every time it rains, actually) of being able to catch rain water to use it to wash clothes.  Oh, and I forgot about the compost pile that was strarted a while ago, but it seems he's pretty much forgotten it as well.

Well, the tree huggery hit a high this week with the discovery that you can calculate your carbon footprint.  Once he saw the effect meat had on his "footprint", that was all she wrote.  He has dined on salads and veggie subs all week.  Of course, he's already lost 4 pounds.  I don't care if that is from fiber poos.  That still pisses me off.  It takes me FOREVER to lose any weight, much less 4 pounds in less than a week, but I digress...

Today I, I mean Melissa, ordered veggie pizza as well as pizza rolls from Pizza Hut, and apparently the pizza rolls have pepperoni in them.  Well the look of disgust on his face when he bit into it said it all. "These have meat in them?!  I wouldn't have eaten it if I had known that."  So, last week he's eating hotdogs (aka lips and assholes), and this week he's too good for pepperoni?  

So, the transformation is complete.  I am married to a tree hugger who rescues animals instead of eating them.  Next thing you know, we'll be using our own poo to fertilize the yard.  I refuse to play naked bongos, dammit!

It's a rare day off for me today without the kids, so I decided to explore my artistic talent.  Turns out I have none.

It's Earth, Air, Water, and Fire.  I'm tempted to say Victoria painted them.  That's probably believable. 

    Wesley: What's your homework today?                                                                                                     

    Trevor: It's called check my agenda and see.

    Wesley: How many times am I going to have to warn  you?   

    Victoria: Four.