Talk me Down People!

I mean it! Send the intervention team because I am teetering here!

Yesterday the Rhino had a less than stellar day at R.A.T. And when I say "less than stellar" I'm really saying he lost his ever lovin' mind. We won't get into the nitty gritty details but the bottom line is that military school is looking like a real possibility. When I referred to his punishment as "solitary confinement" yesterday I was being kind.

Once I calmed down (close to midnight last night) I worked with his teacher to devise a behavior chart and reward system which we launched today. This week there are cool underpants and ice cream hanging in the balance. Don't think about that too much; it's gross. But now I have to devise some rewards for going forward.

Lion put some time at the driving range on the block since Rhino seems to have an affinity for golf. And we always have good ole Monkey Joe's and Chucky Cheeze that we can put up for bids (although I would rather have bamboo shoved under my fingernails). But even that is only 4 weeks' worth of rewards.

I was commiserating with a friend this morning about the whole deal. In the process of conversation we started talking about our attempts to get some speech therapy for the little guy. Yeah, he's a mess; but he's ours. My pal suggested that maybe if we can get the speech going he'll feel like he's in control of something else and his behavior will start to settle down.

My brain said "hmmm, give him something else to control." And this is where the intervention comes in because the next thing that went through my brain was, "What if I get him a small pet that is his responsibility? His thing to control!"

In an ideal situation, the security dog doesn't eat the new small pet. In an ideal situation Rhino feels a responsibility for his new pal and he feeds it and helps clean the cage and takes care of it. In an ideal situation the girls don't get jealous and demand their own "responsibilities" which (knowing my luck) could lead to more "little responsibilities."

This Zoo is not conducive to "ideal situations."

This is a bad idea, right? I really shouldn't do this. I should just stick to ice cream and M&M's and Happy Meals. Talk me down friends because in my desperation not to be known at the mother of the school lunatic, the idea of a George and Gladys is appealing to me right now.

I should probably go eat. It has to be the low blood sugar talking.

Free to a Good Home

One boy.

Gently used.

Very good with younger children and animals.
Enjoys trains, trucks, and dirt.

Merely needs room to run, perpetual feeding and an owner with no sense of smell as his idea of good hygiene is limited to wiping his hands in his hair.

Will consider a trade for a large lazy dog.

This, my dear Rhino, is the ad that will run in Sunday's paper if you put me through another day like today.

And then My Sister Called - Again.

My grown up life was, in a word, heinous yesterday. But just when the grown up world is miserable, my little exhibits pull out all the stops to make me laugh at how absolutely absurd life can be.

As usual, I got the two big exhibits out on Academic Tour (thank you Lion for taking morning carpool), checked my e-mail and then asked Marmie what she thought we should do with our day. "Let's make Nana Bread, Mama!" A quick glance toward the fruit fly cloud emanating from the top of the fridge and I knew she had a brilliant idea.

Side note: With the two big exhibits out of the house, we have been boot camping the potty training. This translates to minimal clothes because let's face it they just get in the way. Please note that I said, "minimal clothes;" not "clothing optional." This will become important later.

Back to the banana bread. I dudded her out with a child's apron (over her underpants - minimal clothing people) and set her up on one of the bistro chairs so she could reach the counter. All was clicking right along in our cooking adventure; she was peeling bananas, dumping sugar, and waiting patiently for the eggs.

Perhaps it was a moment of insanity. Maybe I hadn't gotten that first cup of coffee all the way down. But something made me think that maybe she could handle cracking the egg. And she did. Right onto the newly mopped floor.

Moving on.

The livestock trailer has been looking a little rough lately so I thought since I had time and distractions would be minimal I would clean it out and shampoo the carpets. Marmie was watching some cartoons and playing in the playroom so it was all going smoothly. I checked on her every few minutes and was clicking right along. Suddenly there was a banging on the door. I opened the door to see her poochie little lip. "I sawy Mama." She was trying to get upstairs to go potty and didn't make it. I assured her that all was well and sent her upstairs for a new pair of unders. Cleaned up the mess and went back to work on the van.

Banging on the door. "I sawy Mama." No puddle. No scribbling on the wall. But still no unders either. What happened kiddo? "I poop in your kitchen." Right beside where she had cracked the egg. Day two of mopping the floor.

Moving on.

We safely made it out the door to the carpoool line. Everyone made it home in one piece and then Orangutan decided that we "needed to talk." Grand Keeper had gotten her some new sneaks for school and she finally got to wear them yesterday. Apparently during PE she had to take them off for one reason or another. Well when it was time to put them back on apparently I had knotted them all wrong for her and her teacher and she missed recess time because I messed up. "Thanks for tying them Mom. But on Monday could you be a little more careful? I need to be able to keep up." I stand corrected, O. Please forgive me for inconveniencing your Kindergarten life so terribly.

And then my sister called. Now if you missed the first call from my sister you really should take some time to go back and review it. It's a gem. But it seems that my darling sibling brings out the nutty in my exhibits. I don't think we were two minutes into the conversation when the following happened.

Me: So any news other than...WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!?!?!
Marmie: Tee Hee Hee Hee
B: hysterical laughter
Me: No seriously! Where are your clothes?
Marmie: Tee Hee Hee
B: breathless hysterical laughter
Me: (sigh) Please go find your underpants and pajamas. AND PUT THEM ON!
Marmie: exit stage right - supposedly to go find her clothing
B: (catching her breath) That was awesome! I could actually hear her "Tee Hee Hee!"
Me: I should quit writing this stuff on the blog and start a comedy tour. As Heard at the Zoo or some other catchy title.
B: Tee Hee Hee (dissolves in hysterical laughter again)
Me: Oh stuff it! You're not funny. AAAUUUGGGHHH!!! You're still naked!!
Marmie: Tee Hee Hee
B: I think you should call the tour "Clothing Optional."
Me: Like I don't see enough butts every day of my life! I gotta go.
B: Tee Hee Hee (and more...you guessed it hysterical laughter.)

Lessons Learned at R.A.T.

(Reminder that's Rhino Academic Training.)

Lesson #1. Tighty Whities aren't cool.
If you want to keep the neato baseball and basketball underpants you wore to school on your body, you HAVE to take full advantage of every bathroom opportunity afforded you by your oh, so gracious teacher.

Lesson #2. It's the one with the boy on the door.
If you don't want to be known as the nutball kid in school, you have to use the right bathroom at the afforded bathroom times. It went something like this:

ZK (that's me): So what else did you do today?
R: Wellllll, I used the bathroom at lunch!
ZK: All by yourself?! Good job pal!
R: Yeah, but it was the girls' bathroom by accident.
ZK: Oh NOOOO! What happened?
R: Ummmmm....
ZK: Rhino, were there girls in the bathroom at the time?
R: Yeah. Too many
ZK: Did you leave and go to the boy bathroom?
R: No! I had to go REALLY bad so I just closed the door and went.
ZK: Let's go over this one more time buddy. Mommy can't go in the boys' bathroom so you have to come in the girls bathroom ONLY when you are with me. At school, you have to use the boy bathroom.

R: You shoulda aminded me about that this morning!

Lesson #3. If all else fails, blame Mom!

Happy Mother's Day!!

What? You didn't get a card? So sorry. I didn't get one either but I'll tell you what I DID get. Two children off to school!

Woo Hoo!!

Don't get me wrong. I got a little twinge when my boy went to class and hung up his backpack like a big kid. And I was incredibly proud when my girl found her name tag and sat at her table sweetly.

But let me tell you about walking into my house and hearing......

It brought a tear to my eye. Nothing. Yes, Marmie is still home with me but she was revelling too. She stretched out as big as she could get on the couch while she watched whatever cartoons SHE wanted to watch. Then she just walked in a big circle all around the livingroom. When Lion asked her why, she said it was "because I can." She got to have both beaters and the spoon and the bowl when the cookies were baking. She got to pick a movie and watch it from start to finish. She choose her own lunch. And she got to decide when she wanted to go for a nap.

I am cleaning the house and it's staying clean. I get to work out without anyone hanging off my leg in Warrior 3. I can eat an entire lunch without anyone calling me to break up a fight.

And now you understand why THIS is my Mother's Day! I'm so gleeful I rewrote "Leavin' on a Jet Plane." I won't subject you to my singing but I think you know the tune enough to sing it for yourself and truly appreciate it.

So here's to you my Back to School mom-pals. Enjoy your day!!

"They're Leavin on the School Bus."

All their bags are packed.
They're ready to go.
I will not throw them out the door.
Can't wait to wake them up to say "Good-Bye!"

Now the clothes are pressed.
The shoes are shined.
The alarms are set.
And ready to chime.
Already I'm so giddy I could fly!

So kiss me and smile for me.
Quick say "Cheese!" before I flee.
God bless ya, teach but I really gotta go.

They're leavin' on the school bus.

The quiet's setting in.
Finally the warring's at an end.
The summer has been real fun.
Sorry kids but now it's done.

It's back to school - the truest Mother's Day!

The truest Mother's Day!

Dear Fellow Homeowners,

When you are preparing your home for the market (because you probably won't die in the house you're in) you will probably do some painting. Take a moment as you complete each room and label the leftover paint according to the room it belongs to. Please also note the color and store where the paint was purchased and leave it behind. The future homeowners will kiss the ground you walk on.

"Why" you ask? Because when their 4 year old takes a black wide tip Sharpie and creates a mural of blood curdling proportions on two walls they will be able to locate the necessary paint to repair the damage quickly and easily. This will not only spare your homeowner the pain of snatching themselves bald, but may also save the life of the 4 year old in question.

This has been your public service announcement for today. Thank you and happy home ownership!

And the Crown Goes to...

Princess Badditude!

I thought I had at least 7 more years. I thought I could make it until she was at least 12. I don't think I could have been more incorrect.

In the last week, Orangutan has taken on the nastiest attitude ever. A friend of mine warned me that it's a five year old thing but I'm wondering. Ugly!

Please make your bed.

"But you know I can't make it by myself." And then she'll wait until I turn to do something else and slip out of her room altogether leaving the bed unmade. When I call her out on it, I get argument, excuses, eye rolls, stomping feet and heaving sighs. OVER HER BED!!

Please clean up the playroom.

"I didn't play with any of this stuff. I'm not cleaning it." This is the part of the story where I find the attitude adjuster and apply it liberally to sensitive areas.

Dinner's ready!

"Mom, you know I don't do peas." Well you do if you don't have teeth, sister. They mush!

What IS this?! The last two weeks have been perpetual arguments, wails, crying, tears, gnashing of teeth, and hair pulling. And that's just me trying to get her to do anything that isn't her idea.

I hate that I have become that mother that is counting down the days til school starts but that's me. All me. And I say it's because she's bored with me and if she can go to school she'll be able to interact again and she'll have a better attitude in general.

We all know it's because I won't have to hear it all day, every day. I'll be limited to a few hours every evening. I'm not terribly worried about her pulling this at school. She knows better. Be ugly to Mom and that's one thing. Sass anyone outside of the family and I will light you up little girl!

My hope is that the rumor I heard about 7-10 being good years is true. I think I can refrain from sending her to the convent for a couple more years.