What's. That. SMELL!!!

Door #1 - Sunday AM
Me: 'Hmmm.  Is J burning the fire pit this morning?  Where's TT3?'
D: 'Ug.' Focuses more intently on gun show.

Me: 'No really, What's That Smell?'

TT1: 'MOM!  THE KITCHENS ON FIRE THE KITCHENSONFIREHURRYUPITSBURNING!! TT3 set the kitchen stove on fire!'
D: comes off couch like rocket in butt.
TT1: waves charring red towel around 'I found it, it's this thing!'
Me: from the couch, 'TT1 don't wave the towel around you'll make it flame up!'

D: 'Geez babe, don't get up or anything.'
Me: 'You've got this Mr. Fireman.'

As we ponder how in the heck TT3 was able to set a towel on fire when not even in the room, our heighted and honed powers of investigation revealed that:
   a) TT3 hates towels hanging on the oven handle
   b) He yanks them down and tosses them high
   c) It is entirely possible that TT3 threw the towel onto the stove
   d) TT3 was observed climbing the stove to play with the knobs, so yes, TT3 did, in fact, set fire to the kitchen.

And 3 hours later, I attack the pile of dishes in my sink, and find, buried in the middle, the scorched towel and a pot holder.  No wonder it still smelled like fire in the kitchen.


Door #2 - Sunday PM
Me: 'Ugh, why does it smell like a$$ in here?  TT2 did you fart?'
TT2: 'Nope, not yet.'

Me: 'Boys, upstairs, PJ's and bed.  And throw down all the dirty clothes.'
Boys gleefully pitch every article of clothing they can reach over the railing.  Extra points if you get chonies stuck in a decorative wall hanging.

Now the smell is downstairs.  And it's fermenting.  ICK.

Me: 'Boys!!!  WHAT IS THAT DISGUSTING SMELL??  I thought I told you to bring anything peed-on down immediately!'

Boys, in chorus: 'Idunno. ME!  Maybe pee? The cat peed on it. Not me.  ME!'

Boys in bed, I attack pile of laundry.  Of course, I neglect to turn on extra light, because TT3 will just start howling.  Then, IT HAPPENED.  I grabbed something squishy, clammy and smelly. 
Me:  ';EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW!!!!!'
D: sigh 'What now?'
Me: 'Squishy laundry!  What's that smell! NASTY!'
D: 'Snuck one by ya again huh?'

Thanks babe, for that insight.  Oh, and you can clean that corner of carpet where the nasty squishy smelly pee chonies, shorts and shirt were fermenting under the wet bath towel and piles of dry yet boy-sweaty clothing for Maude knows how long.  This is what Maude thinks of fermented pee-smell:

The Project

So, TT1 and I have a project.  It was "supposed" to be a daddy & son type project, but suffice to say, it's turned into mommy-son bonding project.

We bought TT1 an old desk off craigslist.  Really, for 10 bucks, you can't go wrong.  Did it look like crap?  Yes.  Was D astounded that I'd even consider paying $10 for such a hideous pile of kindling?  Oh even yesser!

But, it's living in our garage, patiently waiting a few weeks for someone to give it some love and attention.  Here is a "before" photo:

Doesn't look too bad here, but those chunks in the veneer were my nemesis.  And the rope detail around the desktop - nasty to sand!  And the triple-flute between all of the drawers - oh MAUDE I hate that molding no matter how pretty it is!

Here are the post 3 hours of putty-ing, rough sanding and sweat photos:

8 drawers later...

Aidan actually did some work - I'm so proud :)

The back didn't look bad at all, too bad the rest was crap.

It actually cleaned up pretty nicely.  The top is crap, but that's what glass is for right?

Amazing, but TT1 actually sanded 3 drawer fronts.  He also took off all of the hardware himself.  Of course, after 3 drawer fronts, he was done and "swedding like a little piggy", so he abandoned me for the pool.  And his bike.  And some crazy game filled with ropes and towels with TT2.  Pretty much anything but the actual work that needed to be done.

But, the rough sanding is done, and it just needs a hit with some fine-grit and tack cloth before I turn it into a satiny black treasure.  And, when it's all said and done, you can't buy a desk like this for $50, so the sweat equity is TOTALLY worth it.

I must say though, I am feeling all of those crazy positions I contorted into to sand the dang thing...I am SO not 23 anymore!  I think more wine is in order tonight.  Maybe by Saturday I'll be ready to tackle this thing again.

Then again, maybe not.


UPDATE: The desk from hell is DONE!  TT1 chose the colors: satin black and fire engine red for the trim.  Of course, Grumpasaur decided to paint the trim.  I swear that man is the only person on earth who can turn satin paint glossy!  The point is, TT1 loves his new desk, and that's good enough for me. Here are some more progress shots, and a finished product. Just ignore the kid crap...

Ahhh, summer.

What is it about summer that turns kids into shrieking, button-pushing tyrants?  Is it the constant togetherness with siblings, or the constant bid for parental attention that does it?  A combination of the two?  Or some nebulous "other" factor that I have yet to discover?

Case in point - naps are intended to recharge the batteries, and smooth the mood.  Apparently for everyone but TT1 & TT2.  Both woke up (or got up, depending on who slept) yesterday, still a bit whiney and sleepy.  TT2 proceeded to antagonize, bother and generally tick off TT1.  TT1 admirably employed the lessons painfully learned so far this summer, and asked nicely to be left alone, then attempted to leave the scene, asked again not to be bothered, and so it went on for about 10 minutes.  TT2 never gave up. 

It's not enough that there are 3 couches in the house.  TT2 insists on using the one TT1 is using.  TT1 has to pee?  TT2 is following a mach-3, insisting that his need is greater and slams the door in TT1's face, cackling like a deranged chicken on, well, whatever deranged chickens eat.

And so it went for about 25 minutes.  Until TT1 had had enough, got his B on, hauled off and smacked the crap outta TT2.  Of course, TT2 attempted to seek consolation and immediate justice; however D was hip to the situation (oh maude did I just say hip?) and simply laughed his arse off, as any good dad would do, right?

Anymore, it's not, TT2, why are you upset?  It's more like, 'TT2, what did you do to your brother to make him make you cry?'  Which is sad, but again, part of that constant bid for parental attention due to the grating of the constant togetherness of summer. 

That, and the fact that D is not really down with the sand-park.  Maybe a dose of away-from-home time would temporarily cure the cabin fever???



http://pinz.olhblogspot.com/2011/01/06/cures-for-cabin-fever/



Deviousness, and other symptoms of boredom

Yeah, I changed the blog name AGAIN.  I know!  But TT just seemed so much more appropriate now, given the triple-team efforts of the boys, their obsession with boobs and the fact that TT could also stand for 'The Thing' also known as Gavin.  Anyway, moving on.

D is gone.  Until the wee hours of tonight.  He's been gone since Tuesday.  It's been, well, an exercise in patience and sleep-deprivation.  I cannot express to my faithful few how happy I am that he's coming home.  Not just for the nookie, although that is nice.  No, I need back-up!  Actually, I need to take the back-up position for a while and let someone else take the shot first.

Our friend M, who for some reason we have not really seen in over a year (don't know why that is), graciously agreed to ride herd on the TT babysit for us while D is out of town. 

Now, 5 weeks into summer vaycay, boredom and exasperation with the constant company of the same 3 people all day seems to have set in with a vengance.  Thankfully, the TT usually get along pretty well, and apparently were on exemplary behavior on Tuesday.  Ahhh the devious minds of children.

Thing 'helpfully' brought me my phone before I left the house.  Riiiiight.  I so totally forgot my phone!  So, no way for M to get hold of me quickly to verify the outlandish tales of the TT.

To hear them tell it, they are allowed to eat McDonald's and popsicles all day, everyday, with little variation except for the addition of various types of fruit and cookies.  They are also apparently allowed to ride bikes alone and swim all day with capri-sun drinks in hand.

Thankfully, M is smarter than the TT and supervised/took part in all activities.  So of course, they ran her ragged.  But they were good while doing it.  They earned a McD's trip.  They got their cookies, and their popsicles.  They got to swim and ride and shoot baskets.  They refrained from beating on or otherwise antagonizing one another, with the exception of Thing, who was a bit surly and clingy (understandable, since he was all of 3 months when we last saw M).  M agreed to come back the next day.  Mommy is happy. 
The End, until it all fell apart.

What to say?

Well, I could talk about suddenly becoming a single-income household.  But that's no fun.


I could talk about the dog, and her incessant swimming at all hours of the day and night, despite our best efforts to keep her out of the pool.


I could even talk about certain of my children and their propensity for bodily emissions.


But no.  I'm going to explain, yet again, how I, yet again, failed to obtain more than 3 hours of continuous sleep.


Offender #1: The Toddler Bed (dun dun duhhhhhnnnnn!)
   Seriously, Thing is so whacked-out excited to have a bid bed that he cannot be placed in it while awake if you want to have the slightest hope of him remaining where you put him.  Unless, of course, you are ME, in which case you thank your lucky stars you were too lazy to disassemble the crib, and just pull the thing over in front of said toddler bed to block the Things' escape.  AND. IT. WORKS.


Offender #2: Peanut-sized bladders
   Ok, Whiney & Divo have been "trained" for quite a while now.  But all of a sudden, they can't seem to get through a night without one (usually both, ick) of them hosing down the bed in the middle of the night.  Even better?  Several times it's been MY bed, because Whiney keeps sneaking into my room after I put him down at night!  The only thing I hate more than pee-sheets is pee-sheets that have "mysteriously" disappeared until I have to play WHUCK IS THAT SMELL?!


Offender #3: The Man
   I love him, really, I do.  But he's got some sort of heat rash, and apparently the itching drives him to flop about all night like a landed trout, shaking the entire room like a 6.5 quake.  Not exactly conducive to my sleep.


Offender #4: The neighbors' yappy annoying dog
   I love dogs.  I have a dog.  But she rarely barks at night.  This dog?  Whiney farts in his sleep and this dog starts yapping at the noise.  I swear the dog sees ghosts or something.  I wish they would take the darn thing inside, but then they'd have to deal with the noise all alone.  Misery loves company.  Or something.

Things that make me feel old

I'm not that old, right?  I mean, I'm not 1/2 way to 40 yet, although I'm closer to that than I am to my 20's.  I have young kids, and kids keep you young right?  Anyone?  Anyone?  Bueller?  Bueller?

So, here is a list, in no particular order, of things that are currently making me feel old:

• HEAT.  I can't breathe.  I can't move without sweating.  I'd rather scare the neighbors and small children by walking around in chonies and a sports bra than get dressed.
• Just to clarify, my children are not scared by this - they enjoy making comments about my squishy pillow-tummy, and trying to blow raspberries on me.  Fun times.
• My friends' daughter.  Seriously?  My friend is NOT old enough to have a high-school grad.  Which means I am not old enough to remember her as a 1-year old, which means we are not old, right? Riiiiight.
• Plus side?  She loves babysitting, so now I have an awesome sitter that the boys actually behave for.  Thank God she's staying in town for college!
• My not-hot bod.  Having kids means you basically turn your body inside out, use a myriad of torture devices on it that would have made the Spanish Inquisitors cringe, and then try to pull off wearning your pre-pregnancy clothes.  As a fellow blogger would say, you can't hide back-fat.  Or spider veins, or cellulite.
• I can't wait for the day they invent a machine that sucks fat out of where your DON'T want it, and puts it back where you do.  Say, transfer of fat from my ass, thighs and belly, back up to my boobs where it was in the first place.  That oughtta perk those babies up!
• My hair.  The hair on my head is currently refusing to grow, which is odd, because, the hair everywhere else on my body is on sasquatch-mode.  And turning gray in odd little patches.  The hair on my head is - sheesh you all are dirty!  Gonna look like Stacey London soon (in my dreams!), And, my head-hair has also decided to become horse-hair coarse, rather than the silky loveliness I took for granted the last mumble-hmpf years.


Not "THE" shoes, but I love these!

• Shoes.  Why oh WHY can't I wear the adorable shoes I used to live in?  I used to totally rock a pair of 4-inch, turquoise snake-skin sandals, oh, and my knee-high, 4-inch stiletto boots.  I cringe at anything over 2 inches now.  Wait, what?  That sounded porny.

• Ke$sha, Lady Gaga & all those other crazy chicks.  Um, maybe it's just me getting old, but how come it's cool and awesome to look and act like a total whack-job?  Had I known this was coming, I'd have kept my awesome 80's sparkle glasses, ill-fitting clothes and bedazzler.

•  My kids.  Specifically, Divo.  I mean really, when a 6-year old has to explain something to you, all the while shaking his head in disbelief, you are out of your age-depth.  I totally remember doing this to my mom, adding that super-annoying whiney "Moooommmuh!  Can't you just (insert ridiculous pre-teen demand here)!?

But, despite all of these lovely things, I can always wrap myself in the Snuggie of knowledge that my dear husband will ALWAYS be older and grayer than me.  Happy Birthday a little early baby!