That’s a nod to one of my favorite Tim McGraw songs, by the way. If you aren’t familiar, I highly recommend looking it up.

Anyway, we’ve had a lot of very stressful days lately. Kid stress, job stress, family stress, even a death. This all makes the treat of our trip to Cancun all the sweeter. We leave Wednesday. Our cell phones won’t work there, which is equal parts terrifying and exhiliratingly liberating. It is 80+ degrees during the day in Cancun right now.

Pitcher just walked in the door. He’s on the phone, yelling and cussing at someone. That’s why God made Mexico.

I hate Valentine’s Day.  I have for many years, and I don’t really understand why we celebrate it. So this year I asked Bucket if we could just skip it. He agreed, which took a lot for him because he is a die-hard romantic and loves any excuse to spoil me (this is one of his better qualities). So we ignored it. However, when you live in a house with teenagers, it is hard to ignore a holiday that was practically created for that age group.

Here’s how it started. Princess, 14,  is “dating” a boy we’ll call Wendell. He’s fifteen. They live on opposite sides of town, which is practically another world to a teenager. But they talk on the phone constantly, and message each other on Myspace. They sometimes do these two activities at the same time. Anyway, Princess and Wendell wanted to go to the movies for Valentine’s Day. After learning that another couple would be accompanying them, we agreed to this plan.

Meanwhile, Pitcher has been kind of on-again, off-again with a girl we will call Manipulator. Lately, they’ve been off. I picked Pitcher up from work Friday night and Manipulator, who also works there, was there. They were talking while I waited in the car. Finally, he comes out and he says, “I have a problem.” Apparently, Manipulator said she was going to stop by the next morning, and Pitcher felt he should have a Valentine’s gift prepared for her. I cautioned him that since they were off, he might want to watch how much he’s investing in her. He said, and I liked this, “Just because she may not be Juliet doesn’t mean I’m not Romeo.” I couldn’t really argue with that logic, and besides, what good would it have done me? Pitcher’s ATM card hasn’t been working, so I handed him a loan of my last $40 and my car keys, and away he went to get something disgustingly sweet. I went to bed before he got home.

Saturday morning Pitcher had to be at a work meeting at 7 a.m. Before he left, he came in our room and said, “If someone could pick the house up, that would be cool.” I knew he was very nervous about Manipulator’s visit. Being the nice Stepmom I am, and totally nuts, I got up right after he left and proceeded to clean the house from top to bottom for the next FIVE HOURS.

Meanwhile, Princess has to go to Color Guard practice and when she comes home, her best friend comes with her. We will call her Hyper. Anyway, they are running around trying to get ready. Wendell is supposed to be at our house at 1:20, and then I am taking them all to the movies. I straighten Princess’s hair for her and make sure the house is in order.

By 1:20, neither Wendell nor Manipulator has shown up yet. Pitcher is getting cranky. The flowers, chocolate and card he got for her is sitting on his bed, and he finally gives the flowers to me. He is still trying to take credit for this gift-by-default.

Meanwhile, I walk upstairs to see Princess and Hyper vigorously brushing their teeth. They’re clearly planning to do some kissing. Also, with all the talk of movies, Monkeyboy has decided he wants to go to the movies too.

Wendell’s parents get lost and he arrives at 1:40. Movie starts at 1:55. Wendell has a stuffed animal, balloon and flowers for Princess. Wendell gets high marks all around. We race off to the movies in two cars, because now the whole family is going, albeit to different movies. Wendell and Princess and Hyper and her boyfriend are all holding hands every time I see them. Ick.

After the movie we come back home, all of us. Hyper’s boyfriend is being picked up from our house and Hyper is staying the night at our house. We are going to a party at a friend’s house where Wendell’s parents will also be, so he’s just riding with us. Anyway I walk past the bathroom that I had asked Pitcher to clean earlier that day and see he hasn’t touched it. I ask him about it and he says, “Why do I have to do more than everyone else?” Let’s just say that wasn’t the best thing for him to say to the woman that had put in five hours of cleaning for him before lunchtime.

Everyone except Pitcher leaves for the party. He’s decided to stay home and pout. At the party Monkeyboy gets sick to his stomach and I have to borrow extra pants and some pull-ups. He will continue to have accidents about once every hour for the next twelve hours. Princess and Wendell and Hyper stay downstairs at the party, but they’re with the rest of the “big kids” so I don’t worry too much.

The next day Princess sleeps until 3:00. Literally. She’s worn herself out. She and Wendell are more glued to their phones than ever, so I guess it went well. Pitcher was cranky, but they had today off for President’s Day and Manipulator came over. So I guess they’re on-again.

Ain’t love grand?

I’m not a Facebook-er, but frankly, this looks fun, and it gives me something to blog about So here you are, 25 random things about me.

1. My mother-in-law hates me.

2. This doesn’t bother me much.

3. I call my husband “Bucket” in real life. I called him this long before we were dating, let alone married.

4. I have an affection for big dogs. Amazingly, I don’t own any big dogs. The ladies are both medium-sized.

5. I am allergic to 22 different foods and spices and 69 “environmentals.”

6. My favorite color is black, and this is reflected in my wardrobe.

7. About a year ago I started to have to dye my hair for the purpose of covering gray.

8.  My favorite book is “The Scarlett Letter.”

9. I am terrible at math. Like, really, really bad.

10. I am 8 years youger than Bucket. I was 14 when Pitcher was born.

11. I had to have Monkeyboy by a C-section because he was breech and had low amniotic fluid. They had a hard time getting him out and had to make a vertical cut. This means any future children of mine must be delivered the same way.

12. I have a bad knee. (It’s the left one, if you’re curious.)

13. I had a miscarriage in 2001. It was the most traumatic experience of my life so far.

14. I’m going to Cancun in March, and this is the high point I am looking forward to at the moment.

15. I fell into a backyard pool when I was a baby. My brother saved me.

16. I love pasta of all kinds.

17. I want another baby.

18. Every other weekend, the kids are all supposed to go to their other parents’ houses. When this actually happens, Bucket and I refer to that time as ”dermatology.” This is a Grey’s Anatomy reference.

19. I am currently addicted to Orbit gum.

20. I am afraid of being in the ocean.

21. I am happier right now than I have ever been with my life.

22. My older brother is one of very few heros I have.  

23. When I was a kid, I scratched my eyeball on an aquarium. Last year when I had the first eye exam I’d had in years, the doctor told me if the cut had been an eighth of an inch in one direction, I would have lost my vision in that eye.

24. I text message more than anyone you know.

25. I think Angelina Jolie is probably the sexiest woman alive. Unfortunately, I find her personality to be downright ugly.

We had all the kids at home this weekend, and it’s starting to look like “off” weekends are a thing of the past. Despite the presence of the chillins’, Bucket and I took some time out for ourselves. None of it went as we ‘d planned, of course.

Friday night we went to a Pacer’s game. Monkeyboy stayed the night with my mom, Prankster went to a friend’s house to go sledding and watch movies and Princess was babysitting and staying with her Grandma. Pitcher had to work, but we arranged a ride home for him. All in all, he’d be alone for about two or three hours. You’d think that wouldn’t be too much for the 16-year-old to handle. You’d be wrong. We got no less than THREE phone calls during the game because he didn’t want to eat anything we had in the house.

Saturday night we had to go to a birthday party at a bar. The party didn’t start until 10:30, which is WAY late for Bucket and I these days. I put Monkeyboy to bed, though he was watching a movie on his portable DVD player (which he calls his “yittle TV”). Everyone else was home, fed and well-instructed when we left the house at 10:00. To make a very long story very short, by the time we had gotten to the bar we had Prankster locked in our bedroom, Pitcher ordered to bed for fighting with Prankster, and Monkeyboy had spilled water on his “yittle TV,” causing it to cease to work. This is a major catastrophe in the Crazykidfamily. We stayed at the bar for two hours and then politely excused ourselves to come home and sort out the damage.

Today Bucket and I went to drop Monkeyboy off at my dad’s house and run to the grocery to grab some super-goodies. We left the three older kids at home. While we were at the store, we got a call from Bucket’s mom. She had been by the house and Bucket’s car was gone. So were Pitcher and Princess (Prankster had gone to a friend’s house). Pitcher has a probationary license. He is not legally able to drive with anyone else in the car unless there’s a licensed driver in the passenger seat. He knows this, because he’s gotten in trouble for it before. Both Pitcher and Princess blatantly lied to us.

I feel like my whole weekend has been spent punishing kids, and that is so not the kind of weekend that feels like any kind of break. I’m going back to work tomorrow and it’s almost a relief. Isn’t that sad? Oh, and while I’m whining, Bucket is on a no-carb  diet that has made him extremely cranky. The combination of the diet causing raw nerves and the Superbowl being an occasion when the rest of us may as well not exist has me wanting to punch him (lightly, of course) in the head

Sometimes raising kids fills me with a feeling of contentedness. More often than not, it makes me happy. This weekend is one of the times when it has felt like a constant uphill, losing battle. I’m beat. Anyone want to rent some kids for a few days??

We’re cranky tonight. Every last one of us. From the giggling, defiant toddler to the moody, sullen teenager, we’re cranky. On nights like tonight, every single thing is a struggle. From the dinner table, to the homework, to bath-time (where Monkeyboy is concerned), to just trying to sit in the same room and watch TV together, we are on each other’s last nerves. Pitcher hasn’t come out of his room until dinner, except for when Bucket made him dry the dishes. Prankster is doing something to get in trouble every ten minutes. Princess is hiding in her room and talking to her boyfriend (the teenage lurve going on in this house is a post for a less-cranky day).  Even Bucket and I are mostly just getting on each other’s nerves.

Mondays suck.

Two nights ago, I was laying in bed, desperately trying to finish a book while Bucket got increasingly annoyed that I wouldn’t turn the light off until I was done.  The kids had been in bed for a half an hour, and I noticed that Bucket was texting one of them. (Let me insert here that in my house we have an extremely annoying habit of communicating by cell phone instead of getting up and going to another room to talk to a person. I know. I’m annoyed by it, and I’m just as guilty as the rest of them.) I asked him what was up, and he said he could hear Pitcher on the phone. Pitcher has been in denial for a long time about the fact that due to some cruel ductwork, you can hear him talking in my bedroom when he’s standing in his. We’ve told him, but I don’t think it sunk in.

Anyway, about ten minutes later, just when I can start to feel Bucket’s annoyance at my reading like every thought is burning a hole in my back (but hey, I was in the last chapter and I can’t stop at that point until I’m done), Pitcher knocks on our door. He sticks his head in the door (he’s still on the phone, by the way) and says, “Don’t laugh at me.” I set the book down, cause whatever is about to happen, I can tell its going to be good. He then hops into our room on one foot and shows us the padlock he has managed to lock onto his big toe. Yep. He asks for the combination.

Now, this is a cheap combination lock we got for our shed after learning that Pitcher was hanging out in the shed burning stuff. To cut off these pyrotechnic tendencies, we decided to lock the shed up. The problem was that the lock was difficult to put on and we had lost the combination.

I think you can see the reason we weren’t laughing out loud. While Bucket goes downstairs to help Pitcher try to find the combination, I finished my book. Hey, I was in the last chapter. Not much takes precedence over that.

I came downstairs as Bucket was getting a HUGE pair of bolt cutters out of the garage. This made me very nervous. I examined the toe in question and realized there wasn’t a lot of wiggle room, so to speak. Furthermore, Pitcher, far from the toughest of young men, yelled every time I tried to maneuver the lock to see if there was any possibility of sliding it off with the assistance of vaseline or butter. I determined this was not a possibility. Therefore, I ended up sitting on Pitcher’s leg while Bucket tried to get the bolt cutters into a position that would only cut the lock, and not amputate the toe. Pitcher continued to whine. Bucket, who you’ll recall was already feeling sleep-deprived, was not in the mood to humor Pitcher. Much snarking went on. Bucket tried to close the bolt cutters. Pitcher yelled and I closed my eyes. Bucket determined the bolt cutters were not going to work. He returned to the garage. I looked at the lock and tried to turn it very slowly, feeling for the click that would let me know the numbers were right. It was a cheap lock, and I got the first two numbers, but couldn’t feel the click on the third number. Too bad I was never a theif, I guess.

Bucket came back in with a grinder. Seriously. We put Pitchers foot up on the hearth and I gave Bucket the “Are you sure you can do this without permanently maiming our child?” look. He nodded. He turned on the VERY loud grinder and touched it to the lock. Sparks flew and Pitcher all but screamed. We stopped to put a cloth over Pitcher’s size 13 foot so it wouldn’t be burned by the sparks. Bucket grinded a bit at a time. Pitcher kept wanting to talk strategy. Bucket was not in the mood. I kept advising Pitcher that if he wanted Bucket to be as careful as possible, he may want to keep his mouth shut.

At some point Princess came to the top of the stairs, sleepy. I said, “Everything is fine. It’s going to be loud for a while. There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll tell you all about it in the morning.” She turned around and stumbled back to bed. Miraculously, Monkeyboy and Prankster slept through the commotion.

When the little metal bar was finally thin enough, Bucket got the bolt cutters into it and snapped the lock off. Pitcher hoppped around rubbing his toe and whining like a five-year-old.

Bucket and I tiredly went up the stairs and fell into bed. And that’s when I exploded into giggles.

Due to three inches of snow that has increased the level of crazy in Crazykidlady, Monkeyboy decided we needed to build a snowman tonight. So, when we got home I layered the clothes on him and on me (I’m a big sissy about the cold), we put on some boots and out we went.

As my brother can attest, I was never into playing in the snow as a kid. I have never enjoyed touching snow, having snowball fights or building any kind of snow sculpture. For starters, there’s the aforementioned aversion to cold. Also, I lack the patience for these adventures. My brother, on the other hand, once made a giant snow-dragon. Try growing up competing with that.

Anyway, I’ve gotten off track. The point here is that I’m not the best snowman builder to start with. But the snow we got today wasn’t wet enough to pack, like, at all. This means that what we ended up with was basically a knee-high snow pile. Nonetheless, Monkeyboy put a carrot nose, button eyes, a hat, a scarf and a pipe on it and named it Frosty.

Since it is bitterly cold this week, I thought I would tell you about the sunshine in my life at the moment. Bucket is on day shift. It seems like such a simple thing, doesn’t it? When you have four children living in your home to care for and run around, you work full time and your spouse works nights, there are a lot of hardships. I can deal with the kids’ problems full-time and the running around and taking care of the house and everything. But more than anything else, it’s just lonely. So what I’m saying here is, right now, it’s like the sunshine is back in my life during the weeks.

I don’t know how long Bucket will be on day shift, maybe forever, maybe for a month. But I am deeply thankful that I get to enjoy having someone adult to talk to at dinner, to share the load, and to kiss me goodnight.

Here’s my mom’s conversation with Monkeyboy:

Mom: You get to go to a hockey game. Do you know what that is?

Monkeyboy: Yes.

Mom: What is that?

Monkeyboy: It’s with frogs.

Mom: No, there are no frogs, just men on skates.

Monkeyboy: Well, sometimes there are frogs.

Mom: No, no, not a “hoppy” game, a HOCKEY game.

Monkeyboy: Oh.

Free tickets to different events being a perk of my job, we spent the first part of New Year’s Eve at a hockey game. Most of us, myself included, had never been to one. It was okay, although the behavior of both the players and the crowd was somewhat appalling given that my kids were there. Anyway, we get through the whole game and near the end our team scores the winning goal just as Monkeyboy vomits all over me.

Happy New Year in the Crazykidfamily.

Prankster and Princess came home today, two days early. It’s nice to have them back, it really is, but remember all that stuff I said about the quiet? Wow. The contrast is GREAT. I am really happy they’re here though. I wish Monkeyboy and Pitcher were home too. They come home tomorrow and Tuesday, respectively. And then we’ll be back in full swing.

Tomorrow I return to work. UGH. I like my job, and it isn’t even hard, so I’m not complaining, really. It’s just that i am in this rhythm of taking a nap everyday and wearing sweatpants for most of the day. It’s going to be a rough transition. Plus, Bucket doesn’t work this week and the big kids are still out of school, so it’s just me and the Monkey that will be hauling our butts into the world in the morning. UGH.