When the decision gets made for you...

Today was rough and this probably isn't the hilarious post you were looking for, although there were definitely some humorous moments thrown into the mix. I had to see my gynecologist today. Why does that word still make me giggle?  Without getting too graphic, i've lost a ridiculous amount of blood in the last three months and it's not stopping. At all. I have an ultrasound tomorrow afternoon and there is a good chance I may be getting a hysterectomy at age 34.

I have so many mixed feelings and I feel like i'm on the verge of crying and just not stopping.  Here's the thing...I don't want anymore kids. I don't. But I don't like the idea of anything permanent being done to my fertility and that's dumb considering I have an antibody problem that would make me carrying a baby to term impossible. My last pregnancy was so high risk that it's ridiculous.  We are so lucky that Peanut survived the pregnancy and is healthy.

How silly is it for a mom of five to be crying about losing her fertility?  Especially when she has multiple medical problems including a serious autoimmune disorder/vasculitis and a million other issues?  But I am.  I'm crying because i'm officially closing that door forever.  I'm crying because I will never be pregnant again, I will never get to feel the excitement of finding out the baby's sex for the first time, or seeing the baby on the ultrasound screen, or the thrill of heading to the hospital to give birth.  And here's another thing I haven't shared, but I can't hold it back. I was recently pregnant and let's just say that things didn't end well and leave it at that.  And I keep thinking about how I could've been getting ready to deliver another baby in July, but instead i'll most likely be getting my reproductive organs yanked out and that hurts my heart in ways that I could never begin to describe.

I have many online friends (since it seems almost all of my friends these days live inside of my computer) who are pregnant or just had babies.  Heck, my sister in law who also happens to be one of my bestest friends (i'm lucky I have an awesome sister in law and not a sucky one), just gave birth a week ago to my newest adorable little nephew and i'm honestly thrilled for her! I have no ill feelings towards pregnant women or moms of newborns.  But i'll admit, walking out of the OB/GYN's office (the same OB/GYN that has been with me through two horrific pregnancies and deliveries and two recent pregnancy losses that have both occurred within the last two years), I suddenly felt very, very sad.  The waiting room was full of women with large blossoming bellies and there I was holding a stupid hysterectomy pamphlet in my hand.

I know that I can't have anymore kids. I know that I shouldn't have anymore kids. I know that I don't want anymore kids.  So what the hell is my problem?  Why can't I just be one of those women who has one or two (or even three) kids and is perfectly content being done.  Why do I have to feel this way?  My husband and I have big plans ahead and having another baby does not fall into those plans.  My dad always reminds me that I can't keep having babies forever and eventually I need to let them grow up so I can enjoy my remaining years and he's right.  I know he's right.  I just wish I could be happy but i'm sad and I know this is a bunch of crazy, rambling, mumbo jumbo and I apologize, but I just really needed to get this out so why not spill my inner most thoughts with thousands of strangers, right?  Geez.

So to lighten up the mood a little, my appointment was a 3 ring circus.  I had to bring my three and five year old sons with me.  I could probably just stop right there and you could use your imagination, but yeah, talk about a disaster!  The doctor has a bin full of germ infested toys in each exam room.  The boys immediately started fighting over a small Nerf ball as I tried to shout out my concerns over the chaos to the medical assistant.  She finally ended up taking the ball away as the boys were practically having a fist fight on the dirty, disgusting floor, and me yelling at them to "Knock it off" was falling on deaf ears.   So, I tell the boys the doctor will be coming in soon.  My son asks, "Have I met this doctor, momma?"  I explained to him that this was the doctor who delivered him and he looked at me with his big brown eyes and said, "You mean he dropped a package off at your doorstep?"  Um, sure, we'll just go with that!

By the time the doctor came in both boys were bouncing off the walls and it was time for me to get undressed so the doctor suggested the boys wait out in the hall.  Before they went out into the hall my five year old tells him, "I play about 50 hours of video games a day", which is not true at all. He hardly plays any video games at all.  Then of course after the doctor tells him, "That's not good. Video games will rot your brain. You should be playing outside" (which he does all day long by the way), he has to chime in again with, "And my brother sits and watches Barney all day" which is also not true as it's a miracle if you can even get Peanut to sit through one 20 minute show. The doctor gave me that look (you know the raised eyebrow look) and I grinned and said, "Boy these guys sure are making me look like mother of the year aren't they?" and the doctor cracked up as we have always joked around with each other. In my opinion you kind of have to joke around with a doctor after he's seen you in some compromising positions.

Tomorrow I have an emergency ultrasound.  This will determine which type of procedure I need done, but basically I will be having some type of permanent uterine procedure done in the next few weeks which will permanently end my fertility and endings are always the hardest for me.

Book Review: Minivans, Meltdowns, and Merlot

Carolyn Coppola had me at hello. Okay, so it wasn't hello, but she definitely had me at Minivans, Meltdowns, & Merlot, which is the title of her book.  I don't think it's possible to pick a better book title.  Even my husband laughed when it saw it sitting on my desk, and it's hard to make that man laugh.

As a mom of five kids ranging in age from teenagers to toddlers, this book felt like the autobiography of my life! I could relate to so many stories that I was literally sitting in my minivan reading the book while my daughter had soccer practice and snort laughing.

I loved every single chapter and that's rare when I read a book.  I definitely had my favorite chapters.  I loved all of the stories about her good friend, Chrissy.  I'm convinced that Chrissy and I are cloned twins separated at birth! The chapter titled, Pancakes aren't just for breakfast is a classic example.  Without giving too much away, Chrissy believes that her son had an accident in the tunnels of the maze at Chuck E Cheese (Are there any parents out there who actually enjoy that place?)  Chrissy climbs into the tunnels in an attempt to track down her son with the leaky, poopy diaper.  I wont give the rest away, but it's absolutely hysterical.  Another favorite Chrissy moment of mine was when she walked into Heavenly Donuts with a pair of underwear stuck to the outside of her coat by a static cling sheet.  If you read my blog then you know that I once made it through an entire Winco shopping trip with a red washcloth stuck to my butt and could not figure out why people were staring and laughing at me until I got home.  I'm telling you, Chrissy and I live parallel lives.

Uncensored had me in stitches. In this chapter her young child learns a bad word from his older siblings. We have this same issue, as I mentioned above that I also have teenagers and toddlers.  She describes an airplane ride from hell, in which she gets stuck sitting next to her little potty mouth and a stuffy, well dressed business man, while her husband chooses to sit with the older kids (i've totally been there).  I won't give away the magic phrase that comes out of her toddler's mouth, but I do believe I broke a rib from laughing so hard.

Fancy pants was another favorite chapter of mine.  As a mom to a child with Sensory Processing Disorder, I could totally relate to her son refusing to wear a pair of pants because they had some orange trim on the inside, thus making them too fancy to wear to school.

I could go on and on listing my favorite chapters, but then i'd be giving the whole book away. So instead, i'm just going to tell you to buy this book because you won't be disappointed.  Well okay, you will be disappointed when you reach the end of the book and then you're forced to actually start watching your daughter's soccer practices.

One word…LICE!!!!

Nothing, and I do mean nothing scares me more than these few little words, "Mom, my head itches."  Seriously I would rather hear there is a deranged serial killer on the loose who has a vendetta against stay at home moms of five, than hear anything about itchy scalps.

So now that you know where this post is headed, my 13 year old daughter came home from school yesterday complaining of scalp itchage. Crossing my fingers she just had an out of control case of dandruff, I nervously gritted my teeth as I had her sit under the lamp and I started picking through her massive head of hair.  No one and I mean no one has more hair than my 13 year old!  She has more hair than the members of the band Poison combined!

I didn't see anything at first and thought I was in the clear. However, upon closer examination, I saw a distinctive brown speck stuck to the hair shaft.  F me running backwards and forwards, we had NITS! NOOOOOO!!!!

I wanted to cry. I mean I would rather do the 30 Day Shred butt ass naked in Times Square than deal with another lice outbreak.  This is not our first rodeo with lice. My younger daughter brought it home from preschool several years ago.  Her entire class had a massive infestation.  By the time we realized she had lice, I had them, my older daughter had them, and we even found a few on my son who was just a toddler at the time and barely had any hair.  My husband is bald, so that lucky bastard has escaped unharmed.  After finding a nit last night, I briefly contemplated about just shaving off all of my hair and joining him.  Perhaps Sinead O'Connor was on to something!

Fortunately I think we caught this particular outbreak before it spread.  I don't seem to have it yet, nor does my younger daughter.  The boys definitely don't have it, and my bald husband has once again been spared.  He also doesn't have to deal with a monthly period.  So unfair!

Out of complete paranoia I covered my entire head with coconut oil and slept with a shower cap on. It was wet, cold, greasy, and awful.  I did the same with both girls.  There I was at 9 pm, digging into the coconut oil with my bare hands and slopping big white chunks of goo onto our heads.  I didn't take a picture.  You're welcome!!!

This morning I took off my shower cap expecting to see dead bugs, but there weren't any.  My younger daughter didn't have any either.  My older daughter didn't have any in the actual shower cap, but you could see a couple of dead bugs hanging off her head.  EWWWWW, so much for eating lunch today!

I tried to wash and dry my hair, but my head was so greasy from the insane amounts of coconut oil that I looked like I had taken a bottle of vegetable oil and just poured it over my head.  I got a brilliant idea to use dish soap on my hair.  Cause nothing says, i'm having a super fabulous day like bending over your bathtub and scrubbing your head with a bottle of cheap, crappy, apple scented Sun dish soap. The dish soap seemed to help because this time after I washed and dried my hair, I was actually able to dry it.  It's still a little slippery, but as long as it doesn't contain live bugs in it, i'll take looking like a Jersey Shore cast member any old day of the week!

I spent an hour and a half combing nits out of my daughter's hair in the backyard and tonight we'll treat her head again (this time with Lice Free spray as that stuff is amazing and not as messy as coconut oil). Then I get the pleasure of combing through her 10,000 lbs of hair looking for more nits.

It's a glamorous life I lead.  I'm sure Fergie had me in mind when she was singing, "The glamorous, the glamorous, oh the flossy, flossy."  Whatever the hell that even means is beyond me, but yeah, until she comes up with a song about a stressed out mom of five picking lice out of her children's hair in the backyard, i'll take it!

Now excuse me while I go burn all of the hair brushes in the house and wash the 900th load of laundry since yesterday.

A simple trip to Burger King with three young kids

It was Friday night, and for many of us divorced parents, this means it's time for the Friday night fast food exchange.  I drive an hour each way twice a month to meet my ex for his weekend visitation.  I usually wait until my husband gets home from work so I can leave the younger kids home with him, however, this particular day my husband was running late, and he was just pulling into the driveway, as I was leaving.  I could've left the younger kids home with him, but I could tell by the look on his face, he had experienced a long, stressful day at work, and the younger kids were already excited about going with me, so it was too late to back out at this point.

We drove an hour to Burger King in the pouring rain.  I made the exchange and dropped off the teens, and found myself sitting in front of BK at dinner time, alone with three kids, all under the age of eight.  I was stuck.  They were like a pack of hungry wolves, and there was no way I was getting out of taking them inside to eat.  

I started unloading the kids in a military fashion (AKA, i'm sweating, stressing about them stepping out of the van and getting hit by cars, yelling, pulling out my hair, etc).  We get into the restaurant and start ordering food.  This is quite a process.  The kids are yelling out, "I want a cheeseburger.  No chicken.  No, a cheeseburger.  Do they have cheeseburgers here?"  The young cashier has a nervous, constipated, "I'm never having kids" smile on her face as she tries to punch in their orders, while having to erase and change stuff a billion times.  

We find a place to sit. I'm waiting for the food and silently praying for them to hurry up.  Don't they realize i'm alone with three young kids?  The kids made several trips to the beverage station to grab napkins, ketchup, and straws.  As soon as one kid came back to the table, another one would have to go get something because, "Hey, I wanted to grab the straws. That's not fair".  Meanwhile i'm looking at the counter and silently screaming, "JUST GIMME THE DAMN FOOD ALREADY".  

We made it through dinner.  Of course my food was stone cold as I opened straw wrappers, refilled drinks and got them all situated.  And then repeated, "Just eat your food" more times than i'd like to admit.  Then the cashier who had placed our order brought the kids crowns to the table. I smiled and thanked her, but secretly was cursing the day she was born.  Three kids with three cheap, crappy crowns that never stay fastened, means a throbbing migraine for mommy. The worst part of the trip was coming up and I was loading myself up with caffeine and carbs to prepare.  The departure.  This part always sucks, no matter how carefully you plan it out. 

I started gathering up the cheap, crappy kids' meal toys, garbage, uneaten food, etc.  I'm grabbing drinks and trying to juggle things like a clown and failing miserably.  Since we were parked right out front I kept thinking, "We just have to make it out the door, and we'll be okay".   We get out to the van.  I'm trying to unload drinks into cup holders, get wiggly kids into car seats, when I hear the five y/o say, "Mommy I have to go to the bathroom".  A chill ran up my spine.  My eight y/o pipes up, "Me too. I have to go to the bathroom".  Fabulous.  

I get the kids back out of the van, yell at them to get up on the sidewalk before they get hit by a car, etc.  We go back inside as the kids run down the narrow hallway to the bathroom.  We go into the handicap stall since there was no one there.  Judge me if you dare.  I had three kids and was 60 miles from home. I'm hanging on by a thin thread my friends, a thin thread!  My eight y/o who is one of those rule sticklers was having a cow, "But mom, the boys are in here.  This is a woman's bathroom.  They can't be in here mom!"  The five y/o sits down to pee, then the eight y/o and then me.  Peanut kept unlocking the door while I screamed at him to knock it off and tried to explain that, "Mommy is naked" which resulted in all three kids hysterically laughing and shouting out, "Mommy's naked" although Peanut's came out as, "Mommy maked". 

The toilet had one of those automatic flush systems except it must've thought you could pee in three seconds because it kept flushing and then you'd get a disgusting douche of public toilet water shot into your cooch.  My five y/o son kept touching the garbage pail that holds the sanitary napkins (you know period pads and Tampon wrappers).  Even after telling him, "Son, those are deeesgusting and have blood on them" he still continued to play with the lid on the garbage lid and then touched his face. Sometimes there are just no words. No words.  

We somehow made it back into the van.  I got them buckled.  They cried, they complained, they asked where their crowns were, where their toys were, where their drinks were, etc.  I slid into the driver's seat and took some much needed deep cleansing breaths.  I was in the freaking clear.  I could drive these little heathens, I mean darlings home to my husband whom I was now ready to groin kick for happily sending them off with me, ALONE! 

I reminded the kids that once I started the car and got onto the freeway, I wouldn't be able to pick up fallen toys so they'd better hold on to them.  Not even five seconds after merging onto the freeway I hear a plopping noise followed by a scream.  A dropped toy.  As I continued to shout to the backseat that I was NOT able to get the toy, I start getting drink requests, as their drinks were up front in my cup holder.  Again I explain i'm not passing drinks to the backseat.  Next it was, "Mooooom, my crown won't stay on my head. It's broken. Waaaaah!!!"  

My head was pounding, my ears were ringing, when I stumbled upon one of my favorite radio stations that was playing all 80's music and this radical song was on the radio: 

Suddenly the drive was not so bad, although I could still hear the kids in the back yelling out requests, arguing over stupid stuff, and complaining about dropped toys and broken crowns.  I turned the radio up a little louder.  Burger King may have kicked my butt, but I was king of this minivan, and it was time to take back my crown. 

Oh NO he didn't!

Welcome to the secret subject swap!  The secret subject swap was created by Karen at Baking in a Tornado.  Please visit Karen's blog to see a full list of all participating bloggers. If you aren't familiar with the swap, each brave blogger picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My secret subject prompt was: I can't believe that man just______ 
It was submitted by Bad Word Mama 

A couple of years ago I was at home with the kids while my husband was at work.  I was knee deep in the throws of an ordinary day, which for me consisted of mountains of laundry to fold, dishes to wash, a baby to feed, a mess in the kitchen, etc.   Shortly after lunch the doorbell rang.  I peeked out of the blinds and saw the familiar outline of the brown UPS truck through the crack. It wasn't unusual for UPS to be making a delivery at our address.  I was a frequent Amazon shopper and bought many household items, including diapers and wipes.  In fact the busy Christmas season had recently ended and UPS was delivering packages to my house so often that I actually became pretty friendly with the UPS driver.  He was a young guy who was very friendly and not to mention, easy on the eyes.

However, this time when the doorbell rang, I was greeted by an unfamiliar face.  There was a new UPS delivery guy standing at my doorstep, but whatever. It really didn't matter. He verified my name and then handed me the oversized box of diapers and I set it down by my feet.  My toddler kept trying to make a run for the open door.  Peanut who just a baby at the time, kept crawling to my feet and attempting to pull himself up by grabbing a handful of my yoga pants.

Eager to shut the door so I could maintain some control of the kids, I reached for the electronic tablet where you sign your name.  And that's when it happened.  He asked me the dreaded question.  A question you never, ever, EVER ask a woman….

"So, you're expecting?"

I looked up at him confused.  Surely he didn't say what I think he just said!  Did he not see my infant son crawling at my feet?!

I somehow managed to squeak out, "Expecting what?"  The UPS man quickly replied with, "Another baby. You're pregnant aren't you?"

Stunned and mortified I racked my brain for something, ANYTHING to say during this horribly, awkward moment.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted to punch him square in the nut sack! But I didn't.  Instead I shook my head and said, "I'm not pregnant."

But he didn't stop there.  Oh no! This time he held out his arms in front of his stomach, as if he was trying to create a make shift pregnant stomach (a huge, pregnant stomach I might add).  He said, "Oh my mistake. I thought you were pregnant.  You totally look pregnant."

By this point I was done.  I gave him the most disgusted look I could possibly muster and pretty much slammed the door in his face.  I was shaking, trembling, and heartbroken.  I know it sounds silly to some and I should've just shrugged it off and went about my day.  But, i'm sensitive and I was already feeling a little (okay a lot) self conscious about my less than perfect, post baby body.  I mean I have had five kids. FIVE! And it's not that i'm that big (well I am now, but I wasn't back then).  I was in fairly decent shape considering that I had recently given birth not that long ago.

I called my husband and sobbed into the phone.  I told him the details word for word.  I was crying so hard that I was a blubbering hot mess of hormones and despair.   My husband was my hero that day.  As soon as we got off the phone with each other, he looked up the customer service number for UPS and asked to speak to a manager.  The first person he spoke with was a female customer service rep.  My husband briefly explained the situation to her, and the first thing out of her completely horrified mouth was, "Oh NO he didn't!!!!" in reference to the jackass of a UPS driver.

I have no idea whatever happened to the UPS driver, or if his manager actually talked to him or not, but I do know that he never came back to our house again.  

Conscious Box Review and Giveaway

I'll admit, I was a bit out of the loop that subscription boxes even existed (five kids equals no life). Now i'm kind of addicted to them.  When asked if I was interested in reviewing Conscious Box I eagerly accepted.

Conscious Box is a monthly subscription where you receive a box full of eco friendly and sustainable products once a month.  We are one of those families who tries to be healthy and purchase environmentally safe, all natural, organic products, but don't always know what to purchase, so the Conscious Box is a fabulous way to sample many high quality products to see what works for you and your family.  To give you an example of how cool this box really is, my hubby took one look inside the box and was like a kid on Christmas morning.  He is hard to please so if he likes it then that's a big score for Conscious Box.  

I was actually pretty surprised by the amount of samples in one little box.  Some of the products included in the box were a gluten free/vegan cereal bar from Two Degrees, all natural cough syrup for kids by Zarbees, a little bag of gluten free, brown rice pasta from jovial, Cheeky Salve by Babytime, emily baby & adult skin smoother (probably my favorite sample in the whole box), Wheatgrass Boost, and a bunch of other really neat stuff.  

Overall I think it's a good value for your money and something that we would definitely purchase as a family.  In fact we are strongly considering ordering our own subscription.  

Enter my giveaway for your chance to win a 3 month subscription to Conscious Box!!!  That's a $59 value!  If you are ready to purchase a subscription now, use this code: LOVELIFE and receive a 25% off discount towards any Conscious Box Subscription! Vegan and gluten free boxes are available as well. You just select your dietary preferences.
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*Please note that I was not compensated for this review.  I did receive a Conscious Box to review.  All opinions expressed are my own. Your experience may differ. 

Sundays are like the Titanic

Weekends at the Peanut Layne household are peaceful, quiet, and tranquil.  We relax, reflect and spend quality time with each other.  And then we wake up.  Seriously.  It's more like the hubby and I sit on the couch like zombies, drooling on ourselves while the kids re-decorate our house into a big ol pile of shit sticks.

This weekend was certainly no exception.  The hubby and I always have good intentions going into a weekend.  We talk about how we're going to seize the weekend and get out and do stuff.  But then the weather usually ends up sucky, the teenagers bail to hang out with friends, and the 8 y/o has a soccer game and before we know it, Sunday has arrived.

I'm personally not a fan of Sundays.  It's a dreadful reminder of a new week full of responsibility. It's still technically the weekend, but it doesn't feel like the weekend because Monday is looming over your shoulder.

Our Sunday went a little something like this: I woke up around 9:30 ish.  The hubby probably didn't get up until almost noon.  We spent most of the day sitting on the couch discussing what we should do, but didn't actually do any of it.  We decide on pizza for dinner since I didn't do the weekly grocery shopping yet and i'm too tired to cook.  The hubby gets a brilliant idea that the kids should go pick out Redbox movies on the computer.  He tells them to reserve them online, and he'll go pick them up.  Five kids on one computer equals lots of screaming, shoving, yelling over each other, etc. I feel like I just caught a glimpse of what the deck of the Titanic must've looked like, when people realized there wasn't enough boats. Total chaos.

Somehow the movies get rented, pizza gets cooked, and the kids eat dinner.  They retreat into their rooms to watch their movies.  The hubby and I hope this means we'll get a few minutes of peace and quiet. The hubby and I were wrong.

A few minutes later we hear screams coming from our bedroom.  Our 5 & 3 year old sons were supposed to be lying on our bed watching Hotel Transylvania.  Instead our 5 year old comes running down the hall with a bloody nose.

Apparently Peanut had climbed up onto our massive headboard again and was doing a move that resembled something like this…...

while using his older brother's face as a landing pad 

We play paramedics, get the nose cleaned up, and get the boys tucked into bed.  All is good for about 30 seconds.  This time Peanut is screaming that he hurt his elbow (on his brother's leg).  Movie gets turned off, the boys go to bed, and i'm ready to perform a vasectomy on my husband with some toenail clippers.

I collapse into bed, but I can't sleep.  It was one of those frustrating nights when you start to think about anything and everything.  You know, things from like 15 years ago, things from yesterday, things that haven't even happened yet.  I was still wide awake at almost 3 am.  My autoimmune disease was flaring and sometimes I have trouble regulating my temperature.  Despite cranking up the heater so our house felt like an Easy Bake Oven, I was still freezing cold.  So, I decided to take a bath.  At 3 am.

There I was in the tub, with legs so mottled from the cold, that they resembled something like the purple people eater.   As the hot water began to warm up my body, I finally began to relax.  I filled up the tub and then turned off the water.  All of a sudden my serene moment was replaced with blood curdling screams.  Peanut had woken up (no, he's still not sleeping through the night) and he was running up and down the hallway screaming for me.   My hubby was still sound asleep.  I'm convinced he takes horse tranquilizers before he goes to sleep.  Who the f#@k can sleep through that shit?  My husband. That's who. Irritated as hell, I climbed out of the warm tub.  My poor legs began to turn back into purple people eaters and I managed to get Peanut back into bed and turned on some Spongebob.  I climb back into the tub and the water was luke warm. I wouldn't of expected anything else.

When all was said and done I think I maybe got 4 hours of sleep.  This morning I was so tired that I accidentally dumped the coffee grinds into my coffee mug instead of the machine and I don't even think I noticed until I was half way done drinking it.

The Hump Day I Just Want to Pee Alone Giveaway

I want to grab Wednesday by the balls and twist them until they turn blue.  I hate Wednesdays with a passion, or "hump day" as some of you people call it.  Hump day should be called F me in the rump day.

Every single hump day I always say things can't get any worse than the last one, but somehow they always do.  This Wednesday was no exception.  I was woken up to a phone call at 7 am by my daughter's PE teacher.  Apparently she hasn't been dressing down. AGAIN.  Of course my teen had an immediate excuse.  She forgot how to open her gym locker, two days in a row.  Unfortunately for her, I wasn't born yesterday.  So, I get into an argument with Ms. Sassy Pants over her attitude and her lack of participating in PE (she's grounded in case you're wondering).  The argument set off a chain reaction of lateness.  I didn't have much time to wake up my 8 year old.  Of course she picked today to roll around in her bed and make animal noises.  She doesn't do this often, but it's Wednesday so of course it has to happen today of all days.  I warned her if she didn't stop, I was dropping her ass off at the zoo.  As the 8 y/o is getting ready, I turn on the TV for the boys.  The older child wants Jake & the Neverland Pirates.  Peanut wants Max & Ruby.  Both are screaming, fighting and crying.  The TV gets turned off.  I get Peanut & the 8 y/o out the front door when my 5 y/o decides to go bat shit crazy because he can't find his stuffed Mario & Luigi dolls.  He's lying in the doorway throwing a fit and refusing to put on shoes, Peanut is running laps around the minivan while waking up all the old people in our neighborhood with his high pitched scream that only he can do, and I briefly debated throwing myself on the ground and curling into the fetal position.  We somehow made it into the van, I turn on the radio and Kelly Clarkson's Stronger is playing.  You know the song, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" or some stupid shit like that.  No offense Kelly, but I seriously doubt you've ever had to get five kids out of the house before 8:30 am.  

In our school district we have half-days every single Wednesday.  When you're a kid half-days are freaking awesome!  As a mom to five who gets to drive three kids to three different schools, it's a case of scorching hemorrhoids with a cannonball shaped stool.  By the time I drop off all of the kids, it's literally almost time to turn around and pick them all up (and pick up is worse than drop off but more on that later). 

To really put the cherry on top, I had to take both boys to urgent care today because they seem to have a cough that wont die.  I spent $40 on co-pays, chased them around the waiting room until my pits were stinky, and then find out that they are both fine and it's just allergies.  And why is it that a kid will hack their lungs out at home and sound like an 80 year old smoker with emphysema, but as soon as you step foot into the damn doctor's office, the cough completely, totally disappears and the doctor looks at you like you are cuckoo crazy?  Freaking Wednesdays!!!!! 

The rest of the day continued to spiral downhill from McD's forgetting to put sweet & sour sauce in the bag for the boys, which led to "WHAAAAAAT?  No, sauce?  WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!" as soon as we got home, to having to scarf down our food, get back in the van and head out to pick up the girls.  I first get to pick up the 8 y/o, which means having to fight for a parking space, drag the boys out of their car seats, and walk up to the entrance to pick her up, and then walk everyone back to the van and buckle the boys back in their seats.  Then we head to the middle school where we sit in a smelly minivan for about 20-30 minutes waiting for my older daughter, while the younger kids practice killing each other in the backseat.  Of course seat belts get unbuckled which leads to me having to get back out of my seat to buckle them back in.  I was hoping that i'd get a bit of a break when I got home seeing as I have two hours before I have to pick up the oldest from band practice and take the 8 y/o to soccer practice, but no such luck.  The 5 y/o just had to eat the 3 y/o's apple slices.  I can't wait to see what the next hump day brings. 

So, in an effort to try to make this hump day a little happier (if that's even possible), i'm giving away a paperback copy of the hilarious new book, I Just Want to Pee Alone.  

a Rafflecopter giveaway