Pigs are friends....and food.

Dinner conversation at our house is never dull, ever. But of course when your child is the one named Cheese how can it be?

Dinner is served, we are having a Kentucky tradition for dinner, hot browns. For those who don't know what a hot brown is I will explain. It is turkey or chicken served on top of toast, topped with bacon and tomatoes and then smothered in a cheese sauce. They are out of this world. Of course, Cheese has no tomato on hers.

Everyone is gathered around the table, hot browns set before us. We are digging in and I eye my eldest daughter slurping her bacon up like a piece of spaghetti. I watch amazed at how quickly and efficiently she achieves this.

She catches me eyeballing her and turns to look at me. Some times when she does this the hair on my arms stands up because it is purely evil but tonight it was questioning. Her look read "What the fuck do you want?" and "Take a picture, it will last longer."

"You really love bacon, don'tcha Cheese?"

"Yup, I love bacon. It's good for my belly."

Keep in mind this child probably consumes as much bacon as Wendy's uses in a week on baconators. She could survive solely on bacon alone.

"Mommy, do you think Papa would buy me a pig to keep at his house?"

"Hmmm, good question Cheese. Why do you want a pig? They poop a lot you know."

"I am okay with that. He would be in a field anyway, not like it's our carpet. But baby pigs are cute. They are cuddly and fuzzy and sweet...."

Dramatic pause inserted here because she knows how to work the room.

"And then when they grow up you can kill them and make bacon!"

*cough and choke on my bite*

"You would kill your pet?"

"Yep, the world needs ham mommy."

Point taken, enough said.

"Yes the world needs ham but it wouldn't need your ham, there are farms that grow pigs just for that purpose."

"Well then the ham would be all mine. Bacon for every day."

Bacon for every day folks. And for everyone.

Step Daddy

It's been a while, I know. A hiatus of sorts for me. Things have been busy here, so many things that Cheese has spouted off.

Cleaning out was my intention, looking for a lost piece of my history. Cheese was being ever so helpful with the process. Pulling things out of the container and shouting in my face "WHAT IS THIS?! WHEN DID YOU GET IT?! CAN I HAVE IT?!" She was excited because she found a teddy bear, and some other odds and ends that I graciously gifted her.

While digging away I see her pull a stone gray folder out, just big enough for a 5x7 picture. My eyes grew wide because I knew what was in it, I was waiting to gauge her reaction. This was going to be fucking fantastic!

I watched her nimble little fingers pry the folder apart, her eyes grew into GaGa eyes as she stared down at the portrait inside. She looked up at me, wide gaze still in place, then glanced back down. She did four or five takes between me and the photograph. Her mouth hung open, jaw on the floor. Then slowly and surely her eyes met mine one more time.

She speaks!!

"Is that you mommy?"
"Yes love, that's mommy a long time ago."
"But your hair is yellow....and...you're....not fat."


There it is, a knife in my heart. Go ahead sweet Cheese, twist it some more.

"Well, love, mommy was quite a bit younger then."
"Who is that boy with you?"
"That was my date. Mr. Zoot Suit himself."
"Well, I want to meet my other daddy."

What the fuck?! How did we get from "mommy you're a fat ass" to "I want to meet my other daddy."?  I just cocked my head to one side, almost as if pondering the comeback and she met me movement for movement. I sat there, almost stunned to being without words.

"Um, well, you'll probably never meet him because he's not your daddy."

Silence!! Yes!! I won!! I beat her at her own game.

"Well if he isn't my daddy why the hell are you in a fancy dress with those grandma shoes with another silly boy in a silly suit."

-Sigh- A long deep one at that.

"It's a formal dance, my love. Girls wear pretty dresses and boys wear silly suits, pin flowers on each other and dance the night away followed by a good amount of parties."

"Did you drink beers?"
"Yes, Cheese, I did."
"Then he is my daddy, you drank with him and I bet you made babies together."

Who the hell taught my kid this shit? Oh yeah, that would be late night television since the little shit won't go to bed. That's right, sleep is for the weak.

Deep breath mommy, deep breath. "Well, while I did drink beers with my date I did NOT make babies with him. That is something a mommy and daddy do when they are in love and believe me I was not in love with my date."

Cue Daddy's arrival....THANK YOU GOD!

"Daddy, did you know that I have another daddy?!"

Fuck. My. Life. Really?

"Um well this is news to me?" Now I am getting the one eyebrow up and one eyebrow down look. The man with the rubber face knows how to this look soooooo well.

"Prom." One word, that's all he gets, I am not going into depth anymore. My brain hurts from this conversation.

I get the nod that he understands, he goes on his way.

"So when am I going to meet my other daddy?"

"Soon, Lovey, soon."

Defeat...I admit defeat. You win this time Cheese.

Beauty school is cheaper than college...

It's a typical Wednesday in the House of Cheese. She gets home (along with Man and the little one I babysit for an hour or so after school), unloads her crap into the spot where she keeps her shoes and backpack...it's called the living room floor.

Today, is a tad bit different. She has her friend Hot Rod over. Hot Rod is in first grade too. They dump and run, straight outside while my little Buddy is here. Two boys, two girls, life is perfect out in my back yard. They are running, and playing "honey badgers". It seems Hot Rod and Cheese and Buddy are hunters and Man is the badger. I am watching out the window, glass of cold sweet tea in hand when I see "the hunters" run over and poke Man with sticks to ensure that he is in fact a dead badger. It seemed odd to me because I really thought honey badgers didn't give a shit and that they were pretty bad ass. I guess Randall was wrong.

Buddy's dad came along to pick him up about an hour after they got home. He took off with his dad, guess he had had enough of honey badgers trying to eat him. The others march in the back door as Buddy is pulling out of the driveway.

Hot Rod: "It's sooo hot outside, we decided to come in and play since Buddy left."

Man, Cheese and Hot Rod ask if they can play downstairs in the playroom since it is considerably cooler down there. I agree because I know these 3 are fairly responsible kids. OR so I thought....

About another hour goes by and Hot Rod's mom (Prego) and baby brother show up to pick her up. I call for the kids and they come up without hesitation. In this hour I never heard any screaming or throwing of things, just lots of laughs and three kids getting along...that should have been the first sign right there.

The kids are all on the floor playing with the babies, Birdie and Scratch. A few more minutes passes and Prego says "Hot Ride, did you cut your hair?"

Hot Rod turns a little pink but admits that she cut her bangs because they were in her face and she was tired of Scratch pulling them. Thankfully her mom is laid back like me, so it was no big deal. We continue asking questions for all the logistics of what happened.

About 20 minutes later, after deciding I was sure I had not left scissors in the playroom, I was told,

"There are four pairs down there and I used the ones with the red handles!" The greatest thing about Hot Rod is she is NOT a fibber. She will always tell you the truth, even when the truth hurts.

"Well, I don't know how they got down there but man!" I said and before I could finish my train of thought Hot Rod pops back in, "Cheese used them too!!"

Cheese is sitting on the floor in front of me, head down as she has been playing with the babies on the floor. I ask her to turn and look at me. She does, at this point in time, Cheese's hair is actually semi-long. It is past her shoulders, she was growing it out for recital. I look at her face and I finally spot it, upon quick glance it was easily missed. She has chopped two sections of hair up to her ears. Each section is about two inches wide.

I just looked at her and said "Well, no more long hair for recital, we will have to get that cut." I had decided that after Hot Rod left I would call our friend, Gimp, to cut it since she is a hair dresser. We continue talking while Hot Rod is gathering her things and putting her shoes on. About another 20 minutes passes and Man says "Well they cut mine too, and it hurt!!!"

Turns out Man's is invisible other than a giant red circle where it looks like the roots may have been ripped out.

I call Gimp  to see if she can fix her hair, I have heard of CPS getting called for less so I am guessing they'd get called for her hair being chopped up. We got to Gimp's house and she puts Cheese in the stool and brushes it out. It is decided that it is fixable, she will just round it out.

She drapes her in the awesome hot pink cape, and grabs her water bottle to wet her down. The first few sprays hit and nothing new comes up, but the wetter her hair gets the more tiny pieces start popping up. What looked like a two inch section became almost a four inch section with pieces as short as an inch.. It was evident that the only way to fix it is to chop the rest off and give her the little bob she always wears.

She loves her new cut, but don't dare ask her what the hell happened, she won't answer.

But after a little research, Prego and I decided that beauty school is way cheaper than Harvard.

Buzz Lightyear to Star Command....do you read?

Sweet Cheese...she can be the most darling little thing and she can also be the most hateful prat that God put on the face of this earth.

This week we had a short week at school which is always a treat. We only have ten days left at this point but Thursday she pleaded for her Monster to spend the night. I agreed, Monster and Cheese had not had a slumber party in a while, Monster's mom is a teacher so she is crazy busy with all the year end things. The afternoon and night go as beautifully as it possibly can. There were no fights, no screaming, no hitting or pulling hair. They just played, they were just little girls. The took baths and went right to bed like sweet angels.

Morning came, and again, we spent it with no effort, just playing. It was like a dream come true. I went early and retrieved Monster's mom, Shit Weasel. She is down a vehicle at the moment so I did what any one's Bitch Monkey would do and went to get her. We got to do something we rarely do together, we zoned out on shitty television while the babes in toyland played. Around lunch we were reaching total saturation, this is the point in time when the girls have had absolutely enough of each other and should be separated because physical violence usually ensues.

All 3 of the big kids, Man, Monster and Cheese whine that they are hungry...do I look like a chef?? I keep sloughing them off and saying "Just a minute" but in Brianna's own words "just a minute never freakin' comes, Mommy". I tell them I will be there soon enough and to go play. They decide that they are going to play Kerplunk only this one is the Toy Story version and it's a rocket that you fill with LGM (Little Green Men) instead of marbles.

Here comes Monster around the corner, pouty face perfectly intact. "She won't let me help her put the sticky things in."

From the kitchen I hear Cheese, "She can put the ay-glee-ins in."

Me: "Okay, Monster, your job is to put the aliens in, so when she is done putting the stick thingies in, it will be your turn."

This seems like the perfect plan...for the perfect storm.

From the kitchen all I can hear is a low rumbling of bitching between the two of them. Both come from the kitchen, which in our house is has 2 entries to the rest of the house, so they each come from a different direction.

"Cheese is putting the aliens in the rocket and that's my job."

"Well she wasn't doing it fast enough so I can help her."

Me: "Well, you put the sticks in and her job is to put the aliens in. That's what YOU decided."

Monster (always so well meaning yet perfectly timed on when it will piss Cheese off the most): "But that's not fair cause you didn't let me help with the stickies."

Cheese: "Life ain't always about being fair...." in her low Johnny Cash voice with her Gaga eyes. She stomps towards her room and in what can ONLY be described the scene from Jurassic Park when the raptors are on the loose, she slams her head sideways into the wall so hard that it makes our kitchen lights flicker and the a/c kick on.

Shit Weasel turns to look at me, and says "What kind of fucked up life lessons are you teaching this child?"

Good ones, Weasel....VERY good ones.

At least I know she has a a huge shot at the role if Spielberg ever needs another raptor...

Big butts make BIG farts.

I am almost ashamed to post this one...ALMOST.

Big Poppa farted, as daddy's tend to do once and a while, and it was very loud.

 The Cheese, from another room, laughs out loud and says "I HEARD THAT!"

The night continues without another word. As Big Poppa is getting his things ready for work the next day Cheese is being her usual "I don't want to go to bed because I can run off 8 minutes of sleep for 2 weeks" six-year-old self. She keeps hitting her daddy in the back and butt.

On the last punch to the ass Big Poppa farts in her general direction. (At least I am not a hamster and her father does not smell of elderberries.) She holds her nose and very loudly exclaims "YOUR FART WAS BIG LIKE GRANDMA'S!!!"

*Fits of convulsive laughter begin now*
*Texts Grandma to let her know what is being said, Grandma replies 'I'm not keeping anymore of her secrets either then.'*

Cheese goes running to her room and then opens the door to tell me she is ready for bed. Not another word from her about farting like Grandma.I tuck her in and get the Bird and myself ready for bed also. Big Poppa is already in bed, he leaves in the wee hours of the morn to go to work.

The next morning I awake to Gaga-esque eyes staring at me from the side of my bed. (It's so creepy waking up to this every Saturday morning. You think by this time I would be used to it but it's just not working out that way.) She says nothing and crawls into bed with me.

We lay there for a moment, a shared mother/daughter moment of sweetness and innocence...lost to the first words out of her mouth....

"To make big farts like Grandma you need a really big butt...Daddy has a huge butt!"

Hello Saturday...I've been waiting for you.

Again, we go on about our business, nothing more is said. She gets ready for dance and we head off with our dance bag, water bottles and Cheese. I drop her off and enjoy my hour and a half without her, doing nothing much else but waiting for her.

We get into the car, and when there are 10 little dance friends running to their cars to this can be quite the feat. And she looks at me and says quite honestly, "I need to go home and wash my body in a shower because when daddy put that big fart on me it made me stink like hell."

*Hangs head and stifles the laughter that should ensue.*

I guess we better go get some Lever because that fart penetrated all 2000 parts.

Peeing in the pool...

Cheese: "Hey mommy! I was told at school today you should never drink pool water because babies use the potty in there."

Okay, not exactly sure how we got to this topic tonight while watching NCIS and eating Chinese for dinner..I thought Cheese might want a taste of the old country.

Me: "Well, I know for a fact that you have peed in your pools so are you a baby?"

Cheese: "I don't know how to get my bathing suit off!"

Me: "Um well, there are ways. I guess I will have to show you how to do it."

Cheese: "I just pee through my suit because pee can go through a bathing suit. There are tiny holes in it that the pee can go through. I think you are supposed to pee in your suit...it makes it warm when you are cold."

*Gag and a giggle*
Cheese, putting the P in Pool since 2005.

Me: "You are NOT supposed to pee in your suit, that's gross. And you are NOT supposed to pee in the pool, also gross."

Cheese: "Well I do know one thing, you can't poop in your bathing suit. Those tiny holes aren't big enough for the poop to go through, it would smash into you and be gross."

*Blank stare*

Cheese: "Well you can't. It just won't go."

*Continued blank stare*

Cheese: "It's true, it really is."

*Texting Weasel as fast as my fingers of fury will type*

*Cue Jeopardy music waiting for a reply while Cheese stuffs Cap'n Crunch in her mouth and apparently ended said conversation with me*

The Reply:

Weasel: "Well, technically, she is right :)"

Me: "I know...it's just...how the fuck did I get here? Not even like to this point in my life but to this particular conversation?"

Weasel: "Was she wearing a bathing suit?"

Me: "Nope."

Weasel: "She's a hot mess."

Me: "Yep."

*Closing my eyes for a moment to reflect on tonight's conversation*

Do you want to come swimming with me? I know a great place. 

Girl Hair...

Nearing the end of Spring break, we are in the car traveling to our zoo. Big Poppa (my husband) is talking about the new Avengers movie and how I need to see Captain America, Iron Man 2, and Thor.

B.P. "Man, you really loved Thor didn't you?"

Man: "Yeah it was awesome! I want a big hammer like that!"

Cheese: "Thor has girl hair. It's gross when boys have girl hair, I don't like it. I think it makes Thor a sissy."

*I snicker because I find it funny...even though comics are the one thing Big Poppa loves I still think it's hilarious*

B.P.: "They couldn't get haircuts back then so everyone had long hair."

Cheese: " So everyone had girl hair? I still think it's dumb."

B.P.: "Jesus had girl hair then, you can't argue with that because you love Jesus."

Cheese: "I only love Jesus when he is a baby, like at Christmas."

Cue in Ricky Bobby..."Dear Lord, Baby Jesus."

Boogers are like nachos!

Another failed attempt to finish homework and as I am reading directions to myself I realize that Cheese has taken off. Calling for her she appears out of her bedroom doorway walking toward me. I go back to reading and look up again when I see her feet before mine on the floor.

"Okay Cheese," I say before looking up to explain the page to her, only to find her elbow deep in her nose.

"That's really gross! You need to quit and wash your hands," sentence completed and just as I think she MIGHT be doing as I ask her finger, covered in slime, goes into her mouth.

Stifling my gag reflex, I again tell her to go wash her hands and that picking her nose is gross. I explain that's how people spread all the germs that she doesn't want.

*blank stare in return*

"Cheese please go wash your hands."

*Looks at me with Gaga eyes*

"I like to eat boogers, they make my fingers taste like nachos."

*Gag. Hold it in. Gag again. Refrain from puking.*

"Go wash your hands," I stand up and walk away.

Who wants dinner? I am thinking NACHOS!

Was I scared?

Sometimes I think my daughter wants to be an adopted child....

Cheese:  Mommy, was I scared on the plane when you came and got me?

Me: Um, when did I come and get you? You have never been on a plane.

Cheese: Yes I have! Don't you remember when you came and got me from China?

Me: Well, no I don't because you are not Chinese and you did not come from China.

Cheese: Yes I did! I know Chinese! (Insert rambling here and then hit the mother load...) Chee Cho Chay! Mommy, that means I love you!

Me: Well then, I guess a change in your paperwork at school is due.

Cheese:  OK! *Happily skips away blowing bubbles for her baby sister*

Sometimes I stare off into space after our conversations and wonder what the hell just happened.

The F#%@ING Circus Part 2

Picking up where I left off before, I feel this story needed to be broken into 2 posts. 

THE TICKETS ARRIVE:

I open them, text Mall-or-ree that they have arrived. (She and I are both as excited as Brianna about going to the circus so a squeal of excitement happens when I rip open the envelope.) I hang the tickets on the fridge and go on about my day.

She steps off the bus with a smile on her face...it is almost as if she can smell the tickets from outside. She runs inside and I ask why she is so happy.

"For nothing, I just had a good day."

Well kid, your day is about to get even brighter! I show her the tickets, her mouth drops open and the words come out in a whisper.

"It is our tickets to the fucking circus, my heart is so excited about this that it is beating really fast like when I run in gym." (It is her choice of wording and her choice of clothing that leads me to believe she is the real life version of Junie B. Jones)

Flash forward 2 weeks...It's April 7, 2012. It is circus day! Mall-or-ree and I counted down the minutes until the "big day". (It is kind of sad that this was the biggest thing happening for me as of late.)

So yesterday I get up at 6 a.m. to make sure I have everything packed. We need to leave our house by 9 and I was prepping for two kids, Cheese and Bird. (Bird is only 10 months old so you have to drag along a lot of crap for her.) I get the diapers packed, I make an extra bottle to take, I make sure I have binkies for the Bird. I then pack my wallet with cash for her to buy goodies with, and the tickets because we would get nowhere real quick without them. I pack my phone and camera. I realize this only took an hour and I still have time so I am able to make myself at least half way presentable for the day. (It was an exciting moment for me because I didn't HAVE to wear a pony tail, I had time to fix my hair.)

At 8 a.m., with no help from me and no help from alarm, as I am opening the door her little body springs from the bed like it was on a pulley system.

"Is it time for the circus?? I am so excited that it feels like there things in my tummy."

Well then...on that note let's get dressed.

She is decked out in a tutu, leggings and her circus shirt (thank Auntie Lee!) and her elephant earrings. We are ready to go. I wish there was a way to bottle her energy and excitement. We quickly pick up Mall-or-ree and head to arena where the circus is at. She is almost running to get in but knows she has to stay close.  We walk in and her body is vibrating she is so excited. Her little hands in her mouth.

It's been a while since she has said "We are going to the fucking circus" and even with prompting she doesn't say it. She is finally there, a month after tickets were purchased, it is her dream come true (a 2nd time because we went last year too.)

Of course there are merchandise booths everywhere and her eyes are aglow with what things may come. I told her we would wait until the end to look at things because they were doing a pre-show where the kids could come into the arena.

We make out way to our section and seats. The arena floor is covered in people, there is a bounce house, CLOWNS EVERYWHERE and some Shaolin monks doing T'ai Chi. There is also a poodle doing tricks.

Cheese looks down and freezes in fear, all she can see is clowns everywhere. Funny, she LOVES the circus but hates clowns. I tell her we don't have to go down to floor if she doesn't want to, we can just chill. (So glad Mall-or-ree is as chilled as we are.)

"Clowns really freak my freak mommy. They are super scary. I am NOT going down there."

That's cool with me and I am pretty sure it's cool with Mall-or-ree because she hiked in with Bird. But then she sees the poodle jumping through hoops. I fucking hate poodles, they are so foo-foo and mean.

"I want to go see the poodle Mommy. I thought you said they were mean but that one isn't mean, it's doing tricks and jumping through a hoop and there is a lady in sparkles. I want to see the poodle mommy!"

We pick up our stuff and head to the floor, as we step onto the black squishy flooring in place for the circus she managed to bob and weave through the sea of clowns. She is working hard to get to that damn poodle. She wants not to stop at any point along the way. We make it to the poodle ring, the furthest one away of course and now it is no longer poodles but a hula hooper spinning with about 20 hoops on her waist. I can barely do one since I had kids let alone 20. I am amazed (which obviously takes very little.)

There is some kind of clown dance thing going on behind us, for obvious reasons Cheese wanted NOTHING to do with it. So we continue watching. She gets to see an elephant so close she could have touched it, and it was painting a picture. She got to see one of the silk ribbon dancers up close and personal as she danced in the air just above our heads. She got to see jack russells perform. All delighting in "those are Chester dogs mommy!" (We have a jack named Chester.) 

She turns and see the monks just as it is time to go back to our seats because the show would be starting in 15 minutes or so. The stairs seemed so few coming down, but going back up with a 25 pound baby is a different story. We get to our seats and get settled. She is talking a mile a minute and I am not catching much of it, we are just trying to settle in with all of the crap I had to bring with me. I realized that when she saw this...

that she really saw this...

and she asked "How did they get airbenders here?!"

I knew her daddy would be ever so proud. (Those of you who don't know what this is, google Avatar: the last airbender."

All of a sudden, the lights go dark and the big booming voice of the ringmaster begins to emanate from the PA system. She is on the edge of her seat waiting to see and hear everything said and done. Her Gaga-esque eyes back out, facing the floor we had just been standing on that the workers had transformed into a floor for the opener in less than 10 minutes. (Again, I was amazed...see how little it really takes. Sad.) She is taking it all in, the costumes, the huge screens with dragons on them, the lights, the music, the dancing. It is such a beautiful thing on her face, so sweet and innocent.(Which we do NOT get to see all that often.) It is a momentous occasion. She is at the fucking circus and it is the grandest thing she has done since the circus last year. Excitement is bubbling out of her, her chair vibrating with energy. She stands up and then sits down, then stands up again, then sits down on her knees. (Never mind that we had to move her seat one over because the lady with the 3 seats in front of us chose to sit in front of Cheese and her beehive hair blocked her view.) 

Then all of a sudden Cheese spots a little person. He dressed as a clown but without the make up. He is next to the ringmaster so he must be important, you can see the thoughts crossing her mind as she is deciding what to say to me. He is dancing, he is jumping, he is doing all sorts of awesome things and his name is Paolo. With a face as serious as a heart attack she looks at me and says...

"I want that little man. I want to bring him home."

And that my friends, is how you enjoy the fucking circus when you are six years old.

The F#%&ING Circus part 1

This blog post has been coming for a while. Technically this is the one that "started it all" as they say. Who are "they"? Anyway, this is the mother of all "the shit my Cheese says" posts. Warning, there is foul language because she wouldn't truly be my child if there wasn't. Enjoy.

It was early one morning, as usual, trying to rush to get them ready for school. Backpacks and lunch money flying, cereal being poured, the news on the television. There sat my "angels", Cheese in the seat with her back to the t.v. slurping up milk from her cereal, milk dripping from her chin as she chews with her mouth open...was she raised in a barn you ask? Why yes, yes she was. Thanks. The Man (my son) was sitting facing the t.v. watching the news, because at eight years old you need to be up on current events and world affairs. And in the high chair, my sweet Bird enjoying her morning pre-bottle snack.

The morning show on the local station is doing this and that, I'm not totally awake so I don't really here anything other than that sound that comes out of the teacher on Charlie Brown. "Wah, wah, wah wah wah, wah." They break for commercial and I am watching, mug in hand. A commercial for The Ringling Brother and Barnum & Bailey Circus came on.

The t.v. bellowed, "It's the greeeeeeeeeeeatest show on Earth!"

Cheese whipped her head around, GaGa eyes out, staring down the television.

The announcer continues, "Come experience the mystifying show with death defying stunts, The Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey present Dragons!"

Cheese averts her Gaga-esque eyes toward me, in a very low whisper, "Oh my God, it's the FUCKING CIRCUS!"

*Shocked* "What honey?"

"It's the circus!! Man look! It's the circus! I need to go to the circus now!"

The man responds, "I'm not going. It was kind of dumb."

I look at the clock, it's that magical time where if I don't get them scooted out the door the junior and senior high bus will pass and we will get stuck behind it. I move them to the car and we are driving down the street.

"I cannot believe the fucking circus is back Mommy!"

"Me either Cheese. How bad do you want to go?"

*still ignoring her word choice*

"So bad, I want to see the elephants, and the horses, and..." I am cutting off there because I don't think she took another breath until we reached the school...7 more minutes from the time I asked the question.

Of course, I have to visit my friends in the school and relay this story. My texting fingers got a little more calloused that day as well. It is decided...1) I must start a blog for all the shit she says and 2) we are going to the fucking circus.

All day, as I am working on projects, writing the first entry to this very blog, I keep giggling about the fucking circus. I can't keep my mind off of it so I have to see what times and prices. A mere half hour later I am the proud owner of 3 tickets to the fucking circus.

It's all set, April 7 we will be going to the fucking circus. It was going to be Cheese, Mall-or-ree, and me going to said circus. Man really didn't want to go, and it never crossed my mind to invite Monster because it just didn't strike as something she'd be interested in.

That afternoon when she got off the bus and strode to the house I could tell it had been a long day. Originally I was not going to tell her about the tickets but her little shoulders just seemed slumped and her head was hung low so upon entering the castle I told her we got tickets.

"OH MY GOD", running laps around our house because in the genius design the kitchen, living room, and hall all connect like a giant race track, "I HAVE TICKETS TO THE FUCKING CIRCUS!!!!"

"I HAVE TO CALL GRANDMA AND TELL HER I HAVE TICKETS TO THE FUCKING CIRCUS!!!"

Um, no. No you don't need to tell Grandma about the fucking circus. Just not a good idea.

Babies and Floppy Boobs

A few nights ago Cheese stated that she didn't know if she ever wanted kids but she should know by the time she is a teenager and she would just have one then. After much argument from her father and I about how having babies when you are a teenager is NOT a good idea (much to her dismay) she finally settled on she would have a baby after college. Good choice for Cheese. *applauds Cheese*

I thought the discussion of babies was over but apparently not.

Early yesterday morning, around 6:15 or so I woke Brianna up and told her it was time for school. Funny thing, I woke her up in MY bed...some bad dream, blah blah blah, my tummy hurts, my head hurts, there's a monster, etc. landed sweet Cheese in my bed around one in the morning. I wake her up and head her up to her room to get dressed. I bring my clothes along too because I am needed to get dressed to take them to school.

I turn my back to her to put on my bra. I hurry as many questions are flying like "why is your bra pink...that makes it sexy. Why are you wearing a sexy bra to school?"  I turn back toward the bed where my shirt was laying and before I could get it pulled over my head I feel a small hand smack my chest. I kindly tell the Cheese that smacking my chest is not appropriate. Shirt is on, THANK GOD. Then as I am trying to get Cheese dressed she pokes me and says "boobies". Trying to ignore it so that it will go away is not working at this moment.

Finally I tell her to stop, she is dressed and needs to get her shoes and head to the kitchen. She looks at me so sweet and innocent like. I should always know better when I see that little half smile and the angelic Lady Gaga eyes because that usually means I am about to hear something that is going to probably hurt my feelings.

"Mommy...you have floppy boobs. Why are your boobs floppy? I don't have floppy boobs."

"It is what happens when you have kids and you are too small to have floppy boobs, get your shoes and get in the kitchen now."

"Well I'm never having kids then because I don't want to be a fat momma with floppy boobs."

*kicks her in the ass*

"Get in the kitchen now."

Exit stage right Floppy Boobs and all.

Cupcakes OR Sex....

January 2010, Daddy's birthday.....

Kids are in school all day so I take the opportunity to bake all the things that Daddy likes. I made 2 pans of brownies, 3 dozen or so cupcakes, a cake. (I was also unknowingly pregnant at the time if you couldn't tell.) The kids come home as everything is still cooling and help me decorate the cupcakes and arrange the brownies on the plate for him.  It is beautiful but I tell them they have to wait until after dinner to eat any of it. That was that and they went on about their business.

Flash forward a couple of hours ~

We are at dinner at the local Mexican restaurant, as tradition we celebrate there for everyone's birthday. We are finishing up our food when Brianna begins ask for fried ice cream. Since I had made so much stuff at home we politely told her no.

*POUT*

She asks again, and grandpa told her no, not tonight.

*BIG POUT*

She asks grandma, again she is told no.

*BIGGER POUT*

She asks me again. I respond and say "no not tonight. We can have daddy's cupcakes when we get home."

"OR WE CAN HAVE SEX?!?!?!"

"What? Did you say six?"

"Nope - SEX!!"

I cover my face because I am trying not to smile, I am trying not to say anything, my body starts shaking with the silent laugh that is now hurting my chest. Daddy is still staring at her in obvious disbelief, grandpa is laughing hysterically and grandma is just not sure what to do.

"I said OR WE CAN HAVE SEX!!!!!!!"

Now that the ENTIRE restaurant is looking at our table...

The tab is quickly paid, my head is laying on table and my face is red as I am gasping for breath...

"What mommy, it's just sex..."

Would you like some cupcakes??? OR JUST SEX??

Squanto 3

As I am typing this, it is happening. After seeing Squanto on the computer she made a face and ran to the kitchen where is watching over us on my little knick knack cabinet.

She is in there right now...

"I need to have a talk with you Squanto...get down here right now!"

"Squanto, why did you get onto Mommy's facebook? You are not allowed to use it because she said I am not allowed to use it. I am going to go outside to play and you can't come because you are grounded for being on mommy's facebooks."

"Why did you tell her to take a picture of you?? You are such a smart ass and now you are going to bed right now!"

*Stalks back to the bedroom with Squanto in hand...grumbling something inaudible*

*Mommy is taking deep breaths.*

Squanto part 2

A conversation:

Me "Where did Squanto go?" *knowing she threw him behind her bed.*

Cheese "Oh, you know, he just went to Squanto School.So he can be with all the other Squantos."

Me *retaining all smiles and controlling the urge to burst out laughing* "What does one learn at Squanto School?"

Cheese "Squanto stuff."



*Watching Pocahontas for the first time since receiving Squanto into our home*

Cheese  "Oh my God! MOMMY!! Squanto is her dad!!!"



To her father:

Cheese: "Daddy, Squanto is watching and he will tell mommy."

Squanto

 The 2010-2011 time frame marked Cheese's kindergarten year...so much to learn. SO much to know. Cheese already knew lots of things when she started school, like her colors, some of her numbers, how to cut things, and how to color. (You would be surprised by the alarming amount of children who start school never having held a pair of scissors or having colored in a coloring book.)

The months passed and she learned various things from her teachers. But approaching the holiday season she began to learn about the first Thanksgiving. Know not of the pilgrims, does she. The only person this child recollects any information relayed to her about the first Thanksgiving is Squanto. Sure we all know the story of Squanto. The first American Indian to help the pilgrims survive their first fall & winter here in the Americas. "He teached them to grow corn and stuff." "He knowed how to fish real good."We learned various things about Squanto over the course of Thanksgiving.

At our school we have "treasure box", a wonderful bin filled with discarded kid meal toys of yesteryear, crap from the dollar store among other fabulous find, like stuffed animals that this mom continually donates only to find that is what my child chose in the treasure box for her good behavior or class participation. (I learned very quickly to donate it to OTHER classrooms so I quit getting it back.) One day during the teachings of the First Thanksgiving, I guess my Cheese was on her best behavior and got to go into the treasure box only to arrive home with this.....

A BEAUTIFUL plastic figure of an Indian. She was so thrilled with this figure, she came home with SQUANTO!!! (Isn't he glorious? I love the sheen of his plastic.)

She rattled off random "Squanto Facts" to us over dinner, as he danced across the table. "Be careful, He'll shoot you with his bow. That's how he got his pee pee cloth, he shot a deer with his bow. It might hurt."

We played "hide and Squanto seeks" all evening with him peeping around our dinner dishes. Soon the dishes were cleared and we were preparing our two oldest, Cheese and Man for bed, 6 AM comes early to them. She quickly bathes and runs to her room to get dressed. As I am finishing cleaning up the dinner mess she comes around the corner with this very very serious face and asks for a towel and a box. When I ask her why she proceeds to tell me that she needs to make a bed for Squanto to sleep in.

I help her construct this bed for Squanto. We use an old piece of scrap fabric, and a pillow from her baby dolls. I suggest the Barbie bed but she says it is too pink. (Please keep in mind that he only moves at the waist, neck and shoulder joints.) She tucks him into his bed made of a blanket and pillow on her art desk stool and scoots him next to the bed.

She climbs into her bed and I quietly kiss her forehead and tell her I love her. She makes sure that I tell Squanto good night and that I also kiss him. (Good thinking on my part for cloroxing him when she brought him in...hello shit loads of kid germs.) I turn off the light and leave Cheese and Squanto to their beauty sleep.

Fast forward 1 hour...I hear a faint yelp from the Cheese, "Mooooooooooooooommy." I go back and open the door and she is sitting upright in her bed. She looks me dead in the face with her big Lady Gaga saucer eyes and says "Can you turn Squanto's head? I get nervous when he looks at me like that."

Squanto, can you please look away. I get nervous too when you watch every breath I take.

Splatter Poop...

We are getting ready for bed last night, late as usual, and I was putting away some clothing left from closet clean out extravaganza. Cheese was sitting on her messy bed (as usual) reading a book called Life Size Zoo.

It's a pretty fantastic book, about 15 inches tall, each 2 page spread is one of one animal with a lot of facts. Cheese LOVES this book, she loves all books, but this one is one of her very favorites.

She proceeds to tell me all about the giraffe, the gorilla, the zebra. I get every piece of knowledge that the book has to offer. I even get the teacher style showing of the pictures, the cover of the book tucked against her belly as she waves the images across the room like she is reading to a crowd of kids instead of just one mom.

It's a beautiful thing having an intelligent kid who loves to read...except when she is being lazy. We are approaching her favorite animal, the TIGER....oooooh scary.  *insert sarcasm here* The two pages show big gnarling teeth, a sandpaper like tongue. It looks as if it is going to dine on us for dinner. Along the right page of the book are several facts about the beloved tiger. I get all sorts of knowledge such as,
"This page shows just how big a tiger head is, it's almost as big as daddy's."
"Looks at his big tongue, it is rough like sandpaper and it not only cleans his fur, mommy, but it rips all the muscles off the bones of the things it eats!" Really? Fantastic! Can we get one as a pet? Please....

That handy dandy yellow stripe going down the far right side is information about this particular tiger, like his name (Baito in case you wanted to know...I didn't.) How old he is, (5 years when the book was published in case you wanted to know...again, I didn't.)  It also talks about some of the visible features of the cat, like it's black lips and 4 large fangs. I was getting a close up at this point...you know I now know Baito's mouth very well thanks to my Cheese grinding the crease of the book into my nose. Directly under this information are "FACTS!"

Cheese, without reading, sees the the tiger drawn from behind and proclaims "Watch out, he is gonna poop!!" I watch her eyes scanning the page and then she says "Do you want to know what kind of poops tigers make?"

"Hmmm, my guess is cat poops."

"Nope mommy...not cat poops! It says right here on this drawing that the tiger makes splatter poops!"

Now giggling silently going into convulsions I get an explanation of what "splatter poop" is. I will spare you the details that I can only wish I had been spared.

I explained that she should check the book every body poops, but that might prove that she is wrong about splatter poops so we do NOT get that book out. Instead we continue to show everyone in the house that will listen the picture of the tiger spraying his territory and exclaiming that "Tigers have splatter poops!!"

I always thought splatter poops is what you got when you ate bad food or drank too much...apparently all it requires is being a tiger.

My tooshie is squishy

Cheese is so many things, and musically inclined is one of them. She likes to make up her songs, march to her own beat and she is pretty good at it. There are always songs being made up in our house so it's nothing new to me, like the other day when she was trying to entertain the Bird she was singing "Don't.. go... slow... like... a... turtle" and it was sung very slowly. Then the second line was "Go fast like a rabbit!!!!!!" and it was sung very quickly. Keep in mind the 20's style stage show that was happening with this. *View from the side with a train like motion to the beat of her song. VERY interesting.* It is just natural to hear things of this nature in our house.

What's NOT natural is her ability to pull these from her rear end at any given moment. She showered the other night, and by showered, I mean ran through 50 gallons of hot water before deciding it was everyone else's turn to shower. I sent her to her room wrapped in a towel still dripping water and told her I would follow suite and be there shortly.

I start down the hall and here one of her jazzy tunes emanating from her bedroom. Upon arrival to her doorway I hear,

"I like my toooooshie! I like my tooshie, caaause it's squiiiishy! I like my toooooshie! I like my tooshie cause it's big and round!"

I peek around the corner and there is naked Cheese jumping up and down on her bed, shaking her head like a wet dog, flinging water over everything. She stops, looks me in the face and then immediately begins bouncing again. Her song starts over, only this time we have added lyrics...

"I like my toooooshie! I like my tooshie, caaause it's squiiiishy! I like my toooooshie! I like my tooshie cause it's big and round! I like my tooooshie cause it's squishy! I like my tooshie and so...does...my...MOM!"

So apparently, we both like her tooshie, cause it's squishy. Awesome.

Super Pecker

Beanie babies...Cheese loves them! So much so that I am pretty sure we have every beanie in existence in our basement in their playroom. (Well we did until the lassholes struck and I left them in the black bags of doom as they got marched to the dumpsters on garbage day! It was a bit like the plague only worse because it was lassholes, the things that happen and toys are decimated.)

We have one named Eggbert, or so his tag says. It's a sweet little chick popping out of an egg.

He remained Eggbert for a long time because she was very small when Grandma B decided we needed all of her beanies on top of the mountains we already had. Then one day, Monster was here playing with Cheese. (Monster is Cheese's BFF) They were playing stuffed animals in the playroom when Cheese runs up the stairs 2 at a time, proclaiming she FINALLY had a name for the lonely chick in an egg...Super Pecker.

Yep, Super Pecker ~ "cause his beak is so strong and that makes him super cause he pecked his way out of the egg."

 The more we told her she could come up with a better name the more she fought for Super Pecker. She could be a lawyer because when she decides she wants something she goes after it. So Super Pecker it is. We now have a beanie baby that seems as if it should be something from an adult catalog. 

It's a bird, It's a plane....IT'S SUPER PECKER.

Lassholes...

Christmas Eve 2011 marked one year since the invasion of Lassholes. Actually it was lice.

12-24-10 ~ I was getting the kids ready for my parents to take them to their great grandparent's house for Christmas while we finished up some stuff around the house for dinner that night. I was parting her hair to get it pulled up into a side do when I see little black things crawling around in her head. Yep...lice. I break the news to her that she can't go to papa's house because she has bugs in her hair. This was my worst nightmare, a girl with longish (shoulder length) hair getting lice. It had been a nightmare the year before when her brother came home with them and his head is shaved.

For hours Cheese sat holding a coveted present from under the tree while my mom treated her head. I couldn't because I was pregnant with her baby sister at the time. We were able to enjoy our family dinner that night after sweet Cheese had sat for almost 6 hours having her hair picked over like a monkey looking for bugs. We stripped ALL of the beds in the house, threw away pillows, washed blankets and favorite lovies on sanitary, bagged up tons and tons and tons of stuffed animals and as we are throwing the last bits away and spraying everything down with a listerine/water mix (works 10x better than the "home spray" in the lice kit) Cheese looks at me very seriously, and with her best big girl voice says "I cannot believe I got LASSHOLES for Christmas!"

Merry Lice-mas to all and to all a goodnight, Lassholes.

Introduction to Cheese

My daughter Brianna, affectionately known as Cheese, is my oldest daughter. She is everything you would want in a child and more...

She is beautiful, with big blue piercing eyes that can reach the far depths of your soul. She has a hot pink highlight in her dirty blonde hair, and she has Cleopatra bangs - just straight across. She is artistic, always carrying a pad around so she can draw things, and a writer, she writes me little stories all the time. She is a dancer, athletic in so many ways, she is a girl scout, she is kind, caring and sensitive when she wants to be.  She is also a sometimes biter and she has a mouth like a sailor (that's 'and more' part of her). She is also six and half years old.

Some of the best laughs in my life have come from this child. There are so many things I wish I had written down over the last 6 years but failed to do so. So many times I rack my brain trying to remember what made me go into hysterics. This is where I am going to write them down. This is where you can read what is said to me and say "HOLY SHIT" because there are so many days that I think the same thing.

I want to take a moment and welcome you to my world...the world of a six year old dropping the F bomb. The kid who's first sentence was "Dammit Kaden!" (Kaden is her big brother.) I hope you enjoy the ride, as much as I have and will.

Welcome to my life with Cheese.