Saturday is not a holiday. But it is the weekend. And I don’t have to work. I just get to have fun. And I have alot of fun planned my friends. Probably more than I handle. No, really. But here are 13 reasons why I can’t wait for it to get here:

1. I have had the week from h-e-double hockey sticks. Alot of craziness happened including but not limited to, my car braking down and needing a new engine, my mass purchase at HHGregg when the salesman made the mistake of telling me I could have 24 months same as cash on GE appliances. (I needed a washer. I bought a washer, a dryer, a refrigerator and stove. Oh and a vacuum.), my basement was slightly flooded and I had to call roto rooter, my daughter threw up all over the bathroom after her older sister threw up all over the car. twice.  

2. Did I mention my car broke down and I need an engine. An engine. The really big piece that is under the hood that makes the car run. It is also, evidently, the most expensive piece.

3. My daughter has Karate. I love Karate. Ok, not necessarily Karate, but watching my oldest daughter perform Karate. She is good. Really good. And she likes it. And let’s face it, this kid does not like much. (she is 8 going on 14)

4. I got my income tax return! Woo hoo. And after all my debts from 2007 are paid off, I may have about 63 dollars left to treat my girls to something fun. After all, they are the reason for the get-out-of-debt-free-card I get every year at this time. Just one of the perks of being a single parent. Head of household, baby! and I’ll take three dependents on the side thankyouverymuch!

5. Saturday is only one day before the Super Bowl. That’s all I have to say about that. Amen.

6. I have laundry to do, but I also now have the beautiful and shiny and wonderful and amazing front load washer and dryer that I have lay awake dreaming about for so long. And they are all mine. Well, in 24 months they will be.

7. I have a big day planned for “the girls” and my friend Shanil and her daughter De’Asya are signed up to go. We always have a great time together. And there is something to be said about having an even number of kids. Two groups of two running off in different directions is surprisingly easier than having three going in three different directions.

8. This day includes eating out. And I don’t mean McDonalds or Domino’s pizza cuz I have a coupon. There may even be forks.

9. I bought the girls a new little outfit to wear on our big day. Because they are girls and love all things girly. And new clothes are fun. And they are going to think I am the coolest mom ever! Yay me! ( yes I know this is shameless bribery. I don’t care )

10. This big day also includes Dave and Busters. This is the midwest equivalent to Chuck E Cheese or Gameworks. In other words, there are lots of games to play and you only have to spend 293 dollars on tokens for your kids to each get a tootsie roll and a slap bracelet before you leave. And if you are lucky it will only take them 45 minutes each to decide what they want. But the biggest perk. Skeeball. You can’t touch me on Skeeball people. I am the skeeball champ. And I am not afraid to elbow a kid or two to prove it.

11. These big plans on Saturday are a big surprise. The girls have no idea. Springing it on them is almost too much secret for me to handle. I am a bad secret-keeper. The worst. I feel like I could burst right now.

12. The best part of the day will be saved for last. I know you are dying of anticipation. Well I will give you a hint. My daughters and my friend’s daughter will not be the only little gorgeous girls there. Oh no. There will be lots of little girls there. And lots of screaming and giggling I am sure. Lots of pink and definitely lots of lipgloss. Adorable fuzzy boots and glittery purses and most probably talk of Zac Efron and the Jonas Brothers.

13. And only because I can’t think of a 13, I will give you a bigger hint. We will be at a movie theatre for a one-week only showing. And the title of the movie includes the words Hannah and Montana. (insert adolescent girly screams here) But shhh don’t tell. It’s a surprise.

I have been tagged. My new blog friend Magpie wants to know more about my quirky side. And for those that don’t know me I have no quirky side. Because both of my sides are quirky. I am all quirky. All quirky all the time. So the rules are that I have to divulge six quirky things about myself and then tag six others to do the same. Just six? Ok, I can do this. No problem.

1. I hate ketchup. Ok for those of you that live in LA or NY this may not seem quite as quirky, but I live in Kentucky. Ketchup is like a fine food in Kentucky. My kids smother everything from french fries to scrambled eggs to mac and cheese with ketchup. Yes, they are quirky too. I once witnessed my oldest nephew put ketchup on his pancakes. I, on the other hand, despise ketchup. I hate the way it looks. I hate the way it smells. I hate the way it feels. and I definitely hate the way it tastes. If ketchup gets all over the table at dinner I will call one of my kids to clean it up. I can’t stand the stuff. Uh. I don’t even like thinking about ketchup. So what do I put on my fries you may wonder? Mayonnaise. Like, duh.

2. I am anal retentive in the way that I organize. Everything has it’s place and every place has it’s thing. Don’t get this confused with my house being constantly clean, because that is not the case. Trust me. But I do like things to be in their place. I get this from both of my parents. I am constantly moving and picking up and re-placing. Medicine bottles in the bathroom closet should be facing forward. Canned goods in the cabinet should be facing forward. Condiments in the refrigerator should be facing… ok you get it. This gives me some false sense of order in my life. Somehow. Kinda.

3. I can’t do laundry if my house isn’t clean. While it makes much more sense to start the 84 loads of laundry I have every weekend at the beginning of the day so I can do it as I go along, I must wait and do laundry last. I must have the house clean first. There is something very wrong about folding clean clothes when other areas of the house are dirty. Same goes for new groceries in a refrigerator that needs cleaned out. Just doesn’t make sense. In my mind anyway.

4. I run out of gas all the time. Ok, so maybe this is more laziness than quirkiness, but I absolutely despise getting gas. I hate it almost as much as ketchup. And though I know you must have gas to operate a vehicle, I will wait until the very last minute to get gas. And I am not exaggerating. I have mastered the technique of running out of gas as I am pulling up to the pump. I will push my luck by driving to and from work with the gas light on. It is the closet thing to adventure I get in any given week.

5. I procrastinate like it is my job. Ok so maybe this is laziness too. I will wait until the last minute to do everything. Perhaps I am just better under pressure. Or lazy. But anyhoo, my motto is: Why do today, what you can put off until tomorrow.

6. I cover my kids in vaseline. Ok not all the time. Just in the winter and just when they get out of the tub. You see my kids are biracial. And brown. And ashy. Literally their knees will turn grey. So I cover them head to toes and behind ears with vaseline. It makes their little skin glow like a shiny mornin sunshine. How’s that for the KY comin out of me? All my words are losin their g’s. It happens.

So anyway, there I am in all my quirky glory. Not too bad I guess. Oh there is more. And I could go on. But I will save that for another day. And do you notice how I blog like I have an audience of thousands? Makes me feel important I suppose. But anyway thanks to all of you for stopping by for a while.

Oh yeah, I gotta tag. Ok. I pick AreWeThereYetMom, Christine, and Dlyn and The Mama Hood, and Jill, Chocolatechic and Kerrianne.

Ok ladies, list away. And tag, tag, tag. Go. You’re it!

GO!

Geesh.

See these sweet and adorable looking children that do sweet and adorable things like put on a Thanksgiving Play for their parents? They are my niece and nephews. They live far away. I miss them very much. And today they are all sick. All of them. All three. Coughing, sneezing, lots of snotty noses and the princess has a rash to boot! All three are at the doctor right now. I wish I could put on my Super Auntie cape and swoop in and make them all better. But in the meantime I think I will send candy.

I ran across this article this morning while getting my day started at work, you know when I should have been reading emails and making my to-do list. Anyway, I was intrigued by the title and thought I would check it out. You can read it here if you would like.

Evidently the author, Rachel Sarah, had a similiar situation as I when her husband up and left the country when she was 7 months pregnant. I was six months pregnant and he moved to Atlanta.  Oh and I was pregnant with our third not our first, which made it a tad bit suckier.

She asks the top questions on her mind and answers them to give us other single moms some encouragement; things like : Am I up to the challenge? Can I support us? Will people look down on me? Will baby be ok without dad?

Her answers were lovely and flowery and filled with phrases like “Hold your head up high” and “Keep yourself grounded” and “Stay stress free“. Yeah, I almost laughed at that one too.

If I would have thought of this first, and oh yeah, were a journalist with an audience of thousands, my article would have been a little different and my answers would have been alot different. Maybe a little something like this.

The Single Mom Survival Guide : The Realist Edition.

When I was six months pregnant with my youngest daughter their dad left the state and moved to Georgia. At the time we also had a 16 month old and a 2 year old. I was a hormonal and heartbroken woman way too damn young to have three kids in the first place. In between working two jobs I cried and came up with creative ways to change two diapers at once, while feeding a newborn and finding time to shower myself ever now and again. I started to ask myself important questions.  

Am I up to the challenge? Believe me, you’re not. It is harder than you think. And you are going to be very tired and very grumpy and feel sorry for yourself alot. Suck it up. You got kids to take care of now.

Can I support us? Not unless you plan on getting three jobs. Kids are expensive and they have these annoying little needs like food, milk and lots and lots of diapers. You will have trouble getting a second or third job because then you will need a babysitter. Get creative. Get a paper route. Get one of those things you can strap the baby in and get ta steppin.

Will people look down on me? The short answer, yes. Especially if you live in the bible belt or the country. And if your kids are interracial? Oh, it’s a losing battle. Again, suck it up and get over it. Unless those people plan to move in with you and be a surrogate father and help take care of you and your kid, who cares what they have to say, right? It also may help to tell them you could care less what they have to say. That always felt very therapeutic to me. Use your outside voice a couple times too for dramatic effect. That makes it really fun.

Will baby be ok without dad? Well they will just have to be now won’t they? Because he has decided Atlanta is a much better place to live. He has important things to do now like play basketball with his buddies and work part time at Home Depot, because with only himself to support now, he doesn’t really need that much money, so why exert himself more than he has to. Again, you guessed it, suck it up. And oh, some advice. Don’t move every Tom, Dick and Harry you meet into your house to “make up” for dad. This is really never a good idea. Then you just end up supporting another kid, and who needs that right now, huh?

This is the part where I am suppose to encourage you. Here goes: I promise that even though you feel like this whole experience might kill you, it won’t. And one day all the sacrifices you have made and the tears you have shed will all be worth it when your kids see how hard you worked and are forever grateful. Well at least that’s what my mom says. I will get back to you on that one.

And oh yeah, keep your head up. Blah, Blah, Blah.

The end.

 1. Wake up 4-6 minutes before alarm goes off so I can be adequately annoyed. Not sure who, exactly, I am so mad at when this happens or how much better I would be with those 4-6 minutes of sleep but I find it quite annoying none the less.

2. Hit the snooze button at least 7 times. That way after it takes me 6-8 minutes to doze back off, I can still get 1-2 minutes of sleep before the alarm clock goes off again. Multiplying that by 7 gives me 7-14 minutes of extra sleep. Therefore making up for the fact that I woke up 4-6 minutes before the alarm clock went off the first time. It’s the principle of it all, people. And the new Math… AKA: Mommy needs way more sleep than she actually gets.

3. I go into the bathroom and do my business (sorry for the TMI) and then stare at myself in the mirror while washing my hands to see what new wrinkles and bumps and grey hairs I have acquired overnight.

4. Brush my teeth and remind myself that we are almost out of toothpaste and toilet paper. Four females in one house = ALWAYS out of toilet paper.

5.  Jump in the shower and utilize my time by mentally making a list of all the important things I have to do at work today, like seeing if Ree is having a contest, check to see what everyone else did for Thursday Thirteen, IM my sister for a while, check TMZ.com to see what my girl Crazazy Brit has been up to in the last 24 hours and email my boyfriend to remind him of all the important things he has to do at work today like: get me some grapes and apples when the fruit order comes in today and remind the dagon jewelry lady to bring me the ”silver” catalog already. We are very important people at our jobs by the way.

6.  Get out of the shower and take 8 minutes on myself. In this amount of time I must properly lotion, dress, put on my face and dry my hair. If I am feeling especially good I may even brush my hair and put on a bit of lipstick chapstick.

7. Get the girls up and moving and help them pick out clothes that they will put back in their drawer throw on the floor the minute I walk out of the room so they can pick out their own clothes.

8. Go downstairs to take the dog out and fill up his food and water bowl since this is Olivia’s job and she always does it. Oh wait, if she always did it I wouldn’t be doing it. Oh that’s right, she never does it. So I do it.

9. Lay something out for dinner so I can cook my children a well balanced meal when I get home. Throw something in the slow cooker and call it dinner, trying not to forget that the first rule is to remove whatever it is from whatever plastic packaging it is in. But this is before I have had coffee and I am not responsible for what happens in the morning before I have had coffee.

10. Go upstairs and gently remind tell the girls in my outside voice that we must leave the house in 12 minutes and they need to really get a move on, while making a mental note to stop saying things like “get a move on”. I am really starting to sound like my mother, which I swore would never happen.

11. Go in my room and turn off Hairspray or High School Musical II or Return to Neverland or whatever other movie Cori has put in the DVD player to watch while “she is getting ready”. Remind Cori again that we must leave the house in what is now 11 minutes and so she really needs to go take off her pajamas and put on her school clothes. Trust me, if you were allowed to wear pajamas in elementary school every school picture I ever had would have featured Strawberry Shortcake or Rainbow Brite. Wait, who am I kidding, my favorite pajamas had Knight Rider on them. So did my lunch box.

12. Remind the girls to not forget any of the following items: shoes, socks, homework, hat, scarf, coat, bookbag, forms and surveys from the office I should have turned in a week ago.

13. Get in the car. Get back out of the car to go into the house to get shoes, socks, homework, hat, scarf, coat, bookbag, forms and surveys from the office that I should have turned in a week ago that at least one of the girls forgot. And if you are thinking — “it is the middle of January, surely her kids would not leave the house without their socks and shoes on,” you don’t know Cori.

When I got laid off at my old job my beautiful sidekick id with internet and email capability went with it. I was forced to choose a new cell phone and *gulp* start paying my own bill. Two of my close friends had recently gone with Cricket so I checked it out. Being that I would not have to sign a 18 year contract like most places, I was sold. I purchased the cheapest phone being that I am both poor and well, cheap. It has been a fine little phone. It doesn’t have cute little avatars that pop up when my friends call me or the ability to turn into a little keyboard or cool games like Ms. Pacman like my Sidekick id, but it has been okay.

 About two months or so ago I started to have issues with the battery on my phone. I would charge the phone at night while I was sleeping and then I would notice after only making one or two short phone calls, my battery would be surprisingly low. I purchased a car charger thinking this would help. Before long the battery would last for shorter and shorter amounts of time. And for those of you with the same phone you know you have very little time to prepare for your phone to cut off. One minute you are talking away and the next minute there is a beep and a message that pops up something like this…. you better say bye and hang up now or whoever you are talking to is going to get hung up on midsente…. and then it dies.

For a month I had to convince my boyfriend it was the phone’s fault and not my own. No really, I told him like a zillion times I was not hanging up on him for no good reason, I just did not have a charge. The phone continued to hang up on people in the most annoying of times. Once I held for my daughter’s doctor to come on the phone for 36 minutes. Guess what happened the minute he picked up and said hello? Yeah, that’s enough to make ya wanna throw it into oncoming traffic.

So one day after hanging up on my mother which, believe me, is never a good idea, I figured it was time to visit my local neighborhood Cricket store. After taking 3 minutes to figure out which door to go in I finally made my way into the teeny tiny store and explained my plight to the salesman, whom happened to look exactly like Drew Carey. He explained to me that I might need a new charger. So being the naive little guppy that I am, I bought one. That worked for all of two days.

Being the procrastinator busy mom that I am, it took me another two weeks to make it back to the Cricket store for further assistance. This trip is when the real fun began.

First let me give you a prelude with a little story of crazy Cricket man. He stands in front of the Cricket store and talks to himself and  the many other people that evidently live in his head. The really interesting thing is, if you listen closely he asks questions and then answers them while quite literally turning his whole body from side to side in order to assume the other “person’s” position. He is harmless unless of course you just try to be polite and Christianly and say hello to him at which point he will curse like the dickens and he may or may not lunge at you with stinky breath and even stinkier clothes.

So today crazy Cricket man was posted in front of the store and imagine my delight when I noticed he was actively drinking from a quite large wine bottle that he was trying to hide with a Kroger circular. Convinced I would either be bashed over the head with said wine bottle or have to wrestle my 6 year old away from him should he engage her in a  cursing match (she is not one to back down from a fight) I said a little prayer and exited the car. We all crammed our way into the Cricket store. Did I mention this place is teeny tiny? Drew Carey looked at me with a total look of annoyance and then proceeded to act like he had no memory of me when I started to explain to him why I was back.

After letting me go on for about 14 minutes about hanging up on my babysitter, boyfriend twice, daughter’s school, friend Jamie, and my mother all in the course of one day, he looked at me blankly and said “I can’t help you.”

I just stared at him. “Huh?”

“You have to go to a corporate store. There is one in Florence.”

“There is a Cricket store on every block.” I said. “Why do I have to go all the way to Florence?”

“Because our Customer Service sucks really bad and we like to make up for our cheap rate plans by making you travel all the way to Florence since gas is 400 dollars a gallon. And we know one of your kids is sick and you still have to go to the grocery store and the pharmacy and the dollar store and the post office today all before your volunteer job meeting tonight at 6PM, but we really don’t care. So yeah, you have to drive all the way to Florence.”

Okay so that isn’t really what he said but he might as well have.

We made our way to Florence where again I had to explain the whole sordid tale to a salesman that strangely enough looked just like the older guy from Scrubs. I was starting to get the creeps a little about the C-list celebrity look-alike salespeople at Cricket, when he explained to me that the calibrated technilico gobbity googlier in my battery seemed to have gone bad or something like that, sort of. Anyhoo, he was gonna replace my battery. Ah, success, I thought and it was almost totally painless, except for the part where I had to drive 15 miles out of my way even though I passed about 27 other Cricket stores on the way.

This battery lasted all of two days as well. To make a very long story short, I ended up with two more batteries in the coures of the next couple of weeks. Yesterday after receving a lovely voice message from my boyfriend, I decided it was time to stop being to passive and demand a new phone. The message went a little something like this: And being that my boyfriend is as big a smart alleck as I, this will not be exaggerated for dramatice effect.

“Mandy, you just hung up on me for the 32nd time this week with that piece of s**t phone of yours. Would ya please take your a** to the friggin Cricket store right this very minute and tell them if they do not replace that stupid cheapa** phone you will be accompanied on your next visit by your very tall, very black (he’s not, maybe more like caramel or like a latte sort of, ok off the subject) very mean and very fed up boyfriend whom has been known to snap a cell phone or two in half out of pure irritation (this part is true). And I don’t really care if the salesman looks like Drew Carey or Howie Mandel or friggin George W. Bush, make them replace your d*mn phone would ya? Please? Please? Ok I love you - call me when you get your new phone.”

Recognizing the “I really mean it this time” voice he was using, I decided to head again to the Cricket store, immediately. I didn’t have my kids with me so I decided to buck up and use my “I am really pissed this time” voice with the salesman. It was a female. Oooooh this was gonna be easy. And she didn’t even resemble a celebrity of any caliber so I was grateful there would be no distractions.

“Can I help you?” she said very sweetly. I took a deep breath.

“Yes as a matter of fact you can. You know I will try not to take this out on you but this is like my eleventh time to this stupid Cricket store 15 miles away from my house because this stupid phone keeps dying on me even though I charge it for an adequate amount of time. You know this is the third battery in this phone and it still is not working right. It is such an inconvenience to try to make an important phone call or even a silly phone call for that matter considering I pay the bill, and have it hang up on you right in the middle of the sentence. Then I have anxiety until I can get it charged thinking that the other person will think that I hung up on them. Twice this thing has died on me in the middle of a heated argument with my boyfriend at which time I have to store up all the clever things I was going to say to make him feel stupid for ever starting the argument in the first place. And so what I am trying to say is, I really am not leaving this store that is 15 miles away from my home until you replace my phone. I have only been with Cricket for 4 months and 2 of those months, my phone has not worked right. This is not a very good first impression of this company you know? Really, I don’t want another stupid battery for this stupid phone. I want a new phone with a brand new battery. Really.”

The saleswoman looked at me blankly and a little like she was ready to call 911 and then said meekly…..

“No problem m’am, your phone has a 1 year warranty. If you can hang on I will just go to the back and get you a new phone.”

Ok, so did she have to make me feel stupid and call me m’am?

I apologize in advance that I left my camera at work on Friday and did not have the ability to take pictures of this awesome day! I will try to be descriptive enough to give this day justice.

If you read the previous post, you know that Emma graduated from the PH program at NorthKey on Friday. After touching base with her therapist on Friday afternoon, I learned that Emma was very excited but also very nervous about what happens next. She even had a hard time expressing her feelings, telling Miss Chrissy that she hated her because it was her fault she was done with the program and could not come back. After making a mental note to talk to Emma about the word hate, I began to brainstorm about ways I could show Emma how being done with the program was a good thing and she should be very proud of herself. Miss Chrissy mentioned encouraging her by telling her how independent she is now to make correct choices after all she learned. Thus was born, Independence Day.

I decided that on Saturday I would let Emma be completely independent. No choosing battles, no “rules” if you will, and she was the “boss” of the day. This of course began with a lengthy disclaimer about the fact that this would be for this ONE day only and the lack of rules did not mean she could be a bossy tyrant and demand things beyond reason.  I should also mention that this “idea” did not begin until about 4PM, knowing I could not take a whole day of this and so it was actually Independence Evening I suppose.

 Anyhoo, we sat in the living room and brainstormed about all the fun things we would do since there would be no regularly scheduled chore-doing going on. The first was dinner. Emma’s choice. What did we have you may be wondering? Well a dinner fit for an independent five year old with no rules of course. Pizza rolls, buttered puffcorn and iced tea, with mini chocolate chip cookies for dessert. The dishes? Well there were none, we ate off of paper towels. In the middle of the living room floor. In front of the TV. While watching Aquamarine on DVD for the 992nd time.

After dinner we played Old Maid and then made paper collages on construction paper. The mess? Left. Remember, no chore-doing instructed Emma. (I secretly cleaned this up while they were putting on pajamas, I could not stand it)

“Do you want to wear pajamas for bed tonight?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said.

But not just any pajamas, oh no. These were handpicked pajamas by an independent five year old with no rules, of course. First she started with pink and purple striped pajama pants and then a white silky nightgown with purple and blue flowers. On top of that, her favorite pajama shirt. Pink with light pink hearts and heart buttons. Then came the pink and white cheetah print robe. Next, mismatched slippers. She looked hilarious but at least she dressed responsibly - the putting of something on her feet surprised even me.  

“Lets do our hair mama,” was the next suggestion. Emma settled for the princess leia look. Two braided knobs on the side of her head with a sprig of a ponytail right on top of her head because she desparately wanted to wear her new Frog barette that she asked I fasten to the end of the ponytail.

After her sisters were respectively dressed in their mismatched-I-get-to-wear-whatever-I-want-pajamas, we were ready to head back downstairs for some more fun according to Emma.

We put together their new Scooby Doo puzzle and aggravated played with the dog. At about 7 o’clock, I asked Emma were we still having our regularly scheduled snacktime. Nope. We will wait one hour for snack, she replied. MMMkay, I said.

Next we played school for which Emma was the teacher, and Grocery Store for which Emma was the cashier and the manager.  We played house for which Emma was the mommy and Disney Monopoly for which Emma was the banker (with a little help from her big sister). I know this sounds like an awful lot of activities but don’t forget this child has ADHD — none of these activities held her attention for more than 13 minutes a piece.

Next Emma decided we should just watch a movie for a while, which turned into a tickle fest on the hardwood floor of the living room. After laughing so hard she and her sisters could barely breathe and me peeing my pants a little (sorry I know that is alot of info, but you know you are a mom and you know have done it too) we quit and piled onto the couch for some movie viewing. High School Musical 2 this time. Because obviously we have only seen this movie 991 times and so another viewing was necessary.

After about 10 minutes Emma sat straight up and yelled and i do mean yelled…”Snack! We almost forgot snack mama” Looking at my watch and realizing it was 10PM and already an hour and a half past bedtime, I nearly cringed for not setting a time limit on this independence thing. “Snack it is” I said as I prepared myself for the next sentence from her mouth. I was envisioning an ice cream sundae with chocolate syrup and gummy bears when she said “How bout apples and peanut butter” Ah, a healthy snack (one of which my sister would be very proud, she and Emma share quite the love for PB) I almost got a little teary at my independent five year old with no rules’ choice of a evening snack.

I excused myself to the kitchen to start cutting up apples for snack time. I forgoed the usual paper plate and got down the plastic tinkerbell plates from the top shelf. I even made a little presentation putting the peanut butter in the middle and strategically placing the apple slices around it in a cute little circle (my Chef boyfriend would be proud).

“So uh, what time is bedtime” I asked Emma from the kitchen, knowing if I had to hear Troy and Gabrille sing one more goofy love song to eachother might make me ill.

No answer.

“Emma…….Olivia…..Cori……” I called from the kitchen.

 No answer.

I teetered the plate of apple slices on my hand and carried the three small cups of milk I made in my other hand and walked into the living room. I instantly melted into a big puddle of mommy love right there on the spot. All three of them had fallen asleep on the couch in a mangled mess of arms and legs and crazazy hairdos and mismatched pajamas.

I turned the channel on the TV and sat down in the recliner and just looked at them for a while. I watched the news and was just about to go upstairs when  I heard a little rustling and looked over just as Emma was opening her eyes.

“Liv’s foot is in my face mama” she said.

“I see that baby, you wanna go up to your bed?”

“mm hmmm, will you carry me?”

“You’re the boss remember?” 

She rolled off the couch and I carried her up to her bed.

“Did you have a fun time being in charge?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered sleepily, “but tomorrow you can be in charge again mama, that made me really tired, being in charge.”

Puddle of mommy love all over again.

“Okay noodle, you got it” I said.

I may just be a single mom making it up as I go along but right then in that moment I remembered a quote I heard years ago that I loved so much I painted it on the play room wall…..

We may not have it all together, but together we have it all.

This post is about my beautiful, youngest daughter Emmalee, or more commonly called the noodle. This past year has been a rough one for the noodle. Her teachers and I started noticing her struggle almost immediately after enrolling her in the montessori preschool she previously attended. She is bright and sweet and capable of finishing tasks her older classmates struggle with. She knew her colors, her numbers, how to write her name and she could recognize many words. However, she also had a hard time staying on task. She would get very frustrated with the slightest hint of challenge and she downright refused to take a nap at naptime. Her teacher commented to me that it almost seemed as if she ran on pure adrenaline all day. Before long the social dynamics of preschool proved to be too much for Emma. While most four year olds would simply walk away and find something else to do, Emma would get extremely upset if someone did not want to play with her. She took it very personally and would either cry uncontrollably or become angry enough to hit or throw things. This started to happen more and more until eventually it was every day.  Her teacher, Miss Sharon worked with her intensively, to the point of changing routines and nap locations. She would read books and talk to her peers about ideas to help Emma. The day I had to pick her up from school because she pushed a bookshelf over on another child - I got smacked upside the head by the notion that my child needed help. I was not angry at her, I was worried for her. If this is how she was thinking at 4, what would she do at 14? You hear of kids all the time that stab classmates, bring guns to school and beat other kids in locker rooms or in school parking lots. I refused to let my childs anger and issues shape her future.

Then we came across Miss Becky, a behavior modification specialist. I was leary at first. I was raised in the country where bad behavior was taken care of by enforcing hard work on the farm and not sparing the rod. These things were not working for Emma and I knew we needed professional help.

I enrolled her in a program at NorthKey Community Care, the local mental health agency in our town. They have a children’s hospital staffed 24 hours a day with dedicated, licensed therapists. In this hospital, they have a program called the Partial Hospitalization program. This meant she could be monitored and observed and helped, but would not have to be admitted. She was picked up every morning at 9 and dropped off every day at 2. In these five short hours a day, my daughter was slowly but surely becoming tranformed. She was learning how to modify her behavior, how to interact with her peers and how to focus on her work. She learned responsibility and the consequences of her actions.

At first, I felt like I had failed my child. Like these were things I should have been teaching my child on my own. And then one day at work, I got a call from the psychiatrist that was observing Emma at school. He explained to me that Emma had classic signs of ADHD and Oppositional Defiance Disorder and that he could also tell she came from a loving home filled with encouragement. He explained to me how Emma was feeling, where the anger was coming from and how we could work together to help her. He put her on a very small dose of medication to help her focus and feel calm. I started to read everything I could get my hands on to try to understand what was going on in my baby’s little brain and slowly I began to feel content. Her progress started to increase and the meltdowns decreased dramatically.

Her incentive program at school was a sticker sheet that she had to keep each day in the program. Each day they could earn up to 12 stickers on their sheet for being caught acting appropriately. If she asked nicely for a pencil from a classmate instead of snatching, a sticker. If she sat in her chair quietly and listened to the teacher give directions , a sticker. She would earn different rewards based on the number of stickers she received. Before long, 5 stickers a day turned into 8 stickers a day and for the past week she has gotten all 12 stickers EVERY DAY. The self pride splattered across her face everyday when I pick her up is the best part. “Look at my sticker chart mama - all 12 again — see”

Last week her therapist Miss Chrissy called me at work. ” I have good news” she says. “We met on Emma yesterday and we all agree she is ready to move on. We see such a new child in her. We are very optimistic about her future in Kindergarten and beyond. Next Friday will be her graduation day!”

So today is Emmalee’s graduation day and I could not be more proud of her.

I have cried, I have worried, I have prayed.
I have read and reread, I have asked friends for advice.
I have cried, I have worried, I have prayed.
I have questioned my choices, I have asked colleagues their opionion.
I have cried, I have worried, I have prayed.

And I feel like today is a new beginning.

This week the one in the middle lost not one, but two of her front teeth. The house is abuzz with Tooth Fairy talk and all are very excited. I also snuck in a warning about the thumb sucking — no more of that when you get big girl permanent teeth mommy has to put braces on if you still suck your thumb at 14.

     

Is it wrong of me to totally enjoy hearing her say things like : Mom are you lithening to me? Mom, do we have thchool today? Today Lethley at thchool called me a thnaggletooth, ithn’t that funny mama?Ahhh, the joy my lisping child is giving to me.

This weekend I had alot roughly a ton of laundry to do. I kept putting off doing it because you see,  my washer is broken and I work full time and I have three kids and a dog, and I cook every night and I don’t have much time, and I drive a small car and so I couldn’t fit all my laundry in my car and my kids too to drive it to the laundry mat. Is that enough excuses validation? Yeah. My mom wasn’t buying it either. “Put it in your car. Somehow. And meet me at the laundromat and I will help you. If you are not there and ready in an hour, I am leaving.” Nothing like a little threat offer from your mama to help you with the mounds of laundry you have accumulated to get you in gear. I lugged clothes downstairs and sorted them into piles so fast my youngest daughter just stood in the living room and stared at me in awe as if she were witnessing her mother on speed. We loaded… and loaded… and loaded… the clothes in the car. After stuffing my two oldest kids in the front seat and making Emma sit atop the basket in the middle of the backseat (if there are any police officers reading this, I promise I have never done anything like this before and it was a laundry emergency and putting my children in danger like this will never happen again.) (Until next time.) we headed to the laundry mat looking like the flintstones. I always love to pull up to the laundry mat and start unloading clothes. Every one looks at me with either pity or disgust. And when they see that I not only have 22 loads of laundry but also three kids that will soon be running up and down the aisles and no doubt playing race cars in the rolling carts, there is always plenty of eye rolling and heavy sighing. But me being the self-entitled brat that I am, I could care less. Besides I am too busy freaking out now that I noticed that I have forgotten the laundry detergent to pay them any attention. I look at the clock. 12 minutes until Nana shows up. If I am not here, the offer to help flies out the window. Can we make it to Kroger and back in 12 minutes. I can talk on the phone, referee a fight in the backseat, hold coffee between my legs and drive on the interstate all at once. Of course I can make it in 12 minutes. I am mother, hear me roar.

 So we take off for Kroger. It is just next door so we I decide to walk. I am practically running while dragging pulling Emma alongside me. Cori and Olivia are trying to keep up as we careen our way into Kroger. I finally find the laundry detergent aisle. I quickly scan to look for sales and then settle on Gain. I am in such a fear for worry my mother will show up at the laundry mat and leave, taking her help offer with her, that I start talking to myself, out loud.  How many loads will this do, how many loads will this do, I am repeating over and over again while staring at the bottle. Finally a grumpy old lady snatches the bottle from me and says “right here it says 32 loads”. “Oh good — that’s probably how many loads I have. Thanks” I say, as I speed away, leaving her in the dust of my quick wit. The girls and I are walking back into the laundry mat and for a quick second I feel a little bad for hurrying so much when I notice how much my children are panting while laying their heads on the laundry room table. Then I notice my kids are laying their heads on the laundry room table.  Ew, get your heads up, Ew, Ewwww I start screeching. And just then, during my quick and oh so very rare moment of craziness, in walks my mom…. and her mom, my mamaw. Two helpers?!?!?!? Oh I could cry. I quickly put them to work kindly suggest what they could do to help. 4 short hours and one near-death from exhaustion grandmother later, we are FINALLY done. Oh the glorious feeling I have looking at all of my family’s clean clothes! The wonder of knowing I have no dirty clothes in my house right now at this point in time. I feel so happy, elated even.

Oh wait–

I still have to lug all this home and put it away huh?

My best friend Jamie. She was always the fun girl. She was always at every party, at every event. She always slept late and worked third shift. She always blew her money on whatever she wanted. She always went where she wanted, when she wanted, with whom she wanted and she never aplogized for it. She was the guintessential single, carefree chick all of us single mothers secretly envy. And then a beautiful thing happened.

And now? A day sleeping past noon? Yeah right. A paycheck where you spend 90% of it on new shoes just cuz ya wanted to? Yeah right. A party that doesn’t even start until midnight? Yeah right.

Being a mom may not seem like much fun …. but what could be more fun on a Saturday night than this?

If we dont’ get a handle on it soon, it could take over her little head.

So we break out the bow-bow box (what my kids call the box they keep all their hair pretties in) and we get to work. Tools for the job: Hairdryer, two brushes, hot iron, tea tree oil and lots and lots of patience and maybe a tissue or two for when she starts to cry after I have burned her ear or the back of the neck. I know it sounds like cruel and unusual punishment, but it is all worth it when this happens…

See that long, luxurious, beautiful red hair? Yep, that’s the same kid!

Don’t hate her cuz she’s beautiful!

Yep, there it is. Hello my dear sweet friend.

And see that long list there to the left of the cup. Well that page is the first of five pages, typed. And it is my to-do list for today. Guess I should be workin on that instead of this here blog huh? Ok, right after I go add more sugar to my coffee. Not quite sweet enough this morning!