The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree

My lap top crapped out on me this morning. That means my long awaited birth story will be a little longer a wait.

I've been meaning to post this story. It's a funny from RK. Some of you may have even heard it already. But it deserves repeating, publishing, and keeping for posterity.

We were shopping along at Target when suddenly we spy a wee little baby. This was a couple of weeks before Irina was born. So I said to Reilly Kate, "Look! There's a little baby like we're gonna have very shortly."

I struck up a conversation with the mom while Reilly Kate oogled her newborn. It was all very pleasant until... Reilly Kate began running her mouth.

"I love boys," she said to the woman. "Boys, boys, boys. That's all I ever think about," she continued as I looked on in absolute horror. "Boys, boys, boys. I just love boys."

"Okay. That's enough now, Reilly." I said and smiled weakly at the woman who was starting to look a little uncomfortable.

"And I'm drunk," continued Reilly Kate. "I'm drunk all the time. I'm only five and my mom let's me drink alcohol any time I want," she said as she rolled her head and flapped her arms around.

"Reilly Kathleen!" I was freaking out.

"Yep," she reiterated, "My mom let's me drink alcohol and now I'm drunk. Drunk, drunk, drunk. Drunk every day."

There was nothing I could do. I had to leave. I put the cart into high gear and exited the premises, heading home to explain to my daughter why it is never a good idea to paint one's self as a drunken slut. Even if someday it becomes the truth.

Welcome Paddy O'Snowman

(Paddy O'Snowman is a snowman on the patio... get it?)

Arrived for our St. Patrick's Day festivities.




And the gratuitous baby picture.

More Language Lessons from Roman

This morning I came downstairs to find bright blue Gogurt all over the carpet. Why the hell those dipshit corporate suits over at General Mills feel the need to color all their foods in the most unnatural shades artificial coloring can offer is beyond my maternal comprehension. But regardless of my lacking an intellectual grasp of their idiocy, the bright blue was still smeared throughout my house.

As I bent down to clean it up, I let out a half enunciated streak of expletives. It went something like this:

"Go- Fu-- Shi-"

I hear Roman from the other end of the room say, "God fuck dammit."

I looked up and saw him sitting at the table, Gogurt in one hand, blue smeared all over his smiling face.

"Hey! You do NOT say that, young man. Those are Mama Daddy words," I chastise.

"Me not say that. Me teach you how to say it. God fuck dammit. God fuck dammit. See?"

HA! As if I need help in THAT area!

And the hits keep coming

Roman is a biter. At present, he only bites Reilly Kate, but the bites are bad. They leave huge, ugly contusions, sometimes even breaking the skin. He'd make a great hunter, tearing through the flesh of his prey. Too bad for him, we eat carrion bought at the local grocer (yeah, what the hell you think aged beef is, people?). So what other than using his incisers as weapons against his terrorizing sister can he do with such a talent?

I've tried all those gentle "discipline" methods to make it stop. The results have been laughable. He's recently started classes where I drop him off and leave and I worry about this biting. Every time I drop him off, I sit and wait for the phone call to come pick up my barbarian child. I expect there to be a phone call from the parent of a disfigured child, or worse - their lawyer. I really don't want to lose our brand new house over Roman's vicious self defense methods.

After I complained to my mom about it, she told me that she had the same problem with my youngest brother Danny. Finally, my exasperated mom came on to a solution. Whenever Danny bit, he had to bite down on a bar of soap. He didn't have to do it too many times before he quit with the biting.

Now, I'm not sure how I feel about it, but it wouldn't hurt him, it isn't violent, and it might just work. It seemed worth a try. Better a bit of soap in the mouth than get labeled at school or kicked out all together. Plus, I felt a pressing need to protect Reilly Kate from his oral retribuation. If I wasn't her mother, I'm sure I would think she deserves it, the way she taunts him. But I am her mother and I'm bound to protect her... at least till she's 18.

So today, after Reilly Kate had badgered the kid, taken his toys, refused to listen to him, and mocked his speech, he bit her, badly. She came running in as I was nursing the baby. I took one look at her hand with it's already violet hued bite marks, unlatched Irina, and took off for Roman. I dragged him into the bathroom, grabbed a bar of nice, hand made, organic Hawaiian soap and put it in his mouth. I made him bite down on it, the soap lodging in his teeth.

When I took it out, he was crying and spitting and foaming at the mouth. I told him that every time he bites, he'll have to bite down on soap. That we don't bite people. We don't bite anything but food. Then I wiped down his mouth and brushed his teeth. Reilly Kate came in with a glass of water and a snack for him and I went back to nurse a shrilly screaming Irina.

A few minutes later, Roman came in crying and again foaming at the mouth. Some soap I'd missed with the toothbrush had started dissolving. There was no way I was going to put the baby down again so I asked Reilly Kate if she would help Roman brush his teeth.

Afterward, they came back in and Roman proudly told me, "Tutu help me brush my teeth."

I said, "So what do you say to Tutu?"

"Me sorry, Tutu. Me never do that again. Me promise," he said as he hugged Reilly Kate.

Reilly Kate leaned in, wrapped her arms around him, and looked back at me as she said, "And I promise to never let Mama hurt you again."

Can you fucking believe it? He bites her and I'm the monster. I swear to you, if I wind up a missing person, check the trunk and find out if my darling daughter has an alibi.

Better yet, I'm running away. I'm off to go start up that tittie bar in the Philippines I'm always blathering on about. And with the milk jugs I'm sporting, the house specialty will be white russians. Heather on tap.

My little runaway, a run run run run runaway

Reilly Kate decided to runaway this morning. Down the stairs she came with her suitcase all packed, wearing nothing but her jammies, barefoot and all.

"I'm leaving," she said.

"I'm running away unless everyone around here stops yelling at me, telling me what to do, being nasty to me, and giving me punishments."

Extortion by a five year old.

I was game for it. Indeed, I thought her running away was a grand idea. I wouldn't have to attempt any of that homeschool bullshit. I wouldn't have to brush her hair or her teeth. And given her nasty mouth, I thought we could all use the break. Besides,I knew she wouldn't go far. She's not allowed to leave the yard and she had swimming lessons at 11 o'clock which I knew she wouldn't want to miss.

"Alright," I agreed.

"What ya got packed in there?" I asked and motioned toward her suitcase.

"I've got Jeffery (her ever present stuffed elephant), a frisbee, a pillow, some rocks, a picture of Nathan and Wesley (her friends in Chicago), and one Laffy Taffy," she told me as she opened the lid to show me.

"Well, you better get some shoes on then," I said.

As she was rummaging around the front hall for her shoes, I went to open the front door. I got as far as the unlocking the deadbolt when Roman came charging in, frantic and sobbing.

"No! No, no, Mama! My tutu's leaving! No! Please, Mama! My heart is breaking!"

(for those that don't know, "tutu" is RK's nickname)

I bent down and picked him up. Tears were streaming down his face. He was genuinely upset. His heart really was breaking. Poor guy.

Reilly Kate wound up staying home. I'm not sure if it was Roman's heartbreak or the fact that she didn't want to be outside with only her jammies on. Either way, she's still on punishment till Wednesday.

Ah, yes, the family bed

Two oversized adults, three kids, and a German Shepard all in one bed? This is a good idea?

If I ever meet that damn Dr. Sears, I'm punching him in the chest. That is, I would if I had the energy or the arm strength. Lucky for him, his hair brained idea of raising children has me too drained. Plus, my one arm is pretty much dead from sleeping on it without moving, for the last three weeks.

Say Cheese

It would seem that our little three week old Irina is a Sacha Baron Cohen fan.

Last night Mike and I were watching Borat as Irina sat in my arms watching us (at her age, we're are fascinating). At one point we started laughing, like rolling on the floor peeing your pants laughing (for those of you that have seen the movie, it was that naked fight scene that had me lose control of my already weakened bladder). I haven't laughed that hard since watching Gilbert Gottfried in The Aristocrats.

In trying to catch my breath, I looked away from the telly, down at the babe and she was smiling an wide mouthed, ear to ear grin. She even squeaked a bit.

Well, I assume it was Borat that made her smile. Or rather our laughter at Borat. But then again it could have been the sight of her postpartum mommy jigglying from double chin to flabby shin. Now, that I think on it, it probably was the latter.

The little shit.

Pronunciation Lesson

It has recently been brought to my attention that people are confused as to the pronunciation of Irina Kealoha. We're idiots. Never once did it cross our minds that the name we'd chosen would be difficult to pronounce. We both grew up in Chicago where there are more people of Polish descent than any other city in the world -- including Warsaw. Irina is the Makenzie of Slavs.

So for those of you outside the Windy City, let me give you a clue. It is like the name Irene but with an A at the end. Eye-Reen-Ah. She is named after my maternal grandmother, Irene (yes, Sissy, Grandma Irene).

And since we both lived in Hawaii the longest period of time we've lived anywhere since leaving Chicago, Kealoha also never seemed difficult to us. It's a fairly common Hawaiian name (Hawaiian names being primarily relagated to middle names). And is used as a family name as well as a given name. It means love which I think is appropriate for a girl born on St. Valentine's Day. It is pronounced just like the word "aloha" with the word "kay" in front of it. Kay-Uh-Low-Ha. Kealoha. Don't say KEE-aloha. Say KAY-aloha.

That is all for today. Class dismissed.