Fangirl Friday - My Minions (Not the Yellow Ones)

My daughter playing with a silly Ipod app
and this is what comes out of it. 
I dare you not to laugh.

It's been a while since my last post but today it's my turn to fangirl and I'd been having trouble finding a topic to fangirl over for days until one morning my younger daughter woke me up early because she just HAD to show me "something SOOO funny [she'd] created" on her Ipod.

Mind you, I had gone to bed wayyy too late the night before so I was pretty tired and had to rub my eyes so I'd be able to focus them on the screen, and when I finally did, I started laughing and after a while she went on her merry way back to her bedroom and now there was no way I could go back to sleep. Still giggling at her silliness I admitted to myself that this was a pretty awesome way to wake up... even if it was way too early and my day off... and that little scene gave me the idea for my next fangirl post.

My minions... a.k.a. my kids.

Introducing My Trifecta

Don't panic just yet, I'm not talking about Urban Dictionary's female trifecta, the wine, sex and chocolate... I'm referring to The Free Dictionary's trifecta... my "achievement involving three successful outcomes"... no pun intended (but, inadvertently, it made my vagina cringe for some odd reasons). Hmm, although I do admit that one of the aforementioned had something to do with the latter... but don't remind my kids of that.

In their younger years, they preferred to believe that the stork brought them to me. Yes, dearies, that's *exactly* what happened. When they got older and knew they couldn't pretend to still believe in the stork story they decided to acknowledge that there might have been sex involved. So the official story was that their parents have had, that thing, you know... sex... but only for the total of 3 times... "right mom?" Again, "Yes, dearies that's *exactly* what happened... Whateeeever makes you sleep at nights"...

Mom and dad having casual, random, sex!... LA LA LA LA!!

My first one happened just over 17 years ago. The "stork" was on his way with the package and me and my partner in crime were on our way to the hospital. We were a little bit nervous, thinking what the hell were we getting ourselves into, knowing there was no turning back and I could just forget about sleeping in for the next several years.

What started out to be a gentle drive to the hospital in the middle of the night, ended up being a drive with a police escort, rushing through every red light coming our way... and us laughing the whole way, in between my contractions.

The police had stopped us on the way when doing their random traffic stops. But instead of having to take an alcohol breath test, after the grumpy officer realized that my condition was the reason for my partner telling him he didn't have time for that, the officer got all nice and worried and offered us an escort. We originally said it wasn't necessary but since he was almost insisting, who were we to say no and miss out on a good story!

Many, many, hours later my son arrived into the world. He was due on March 18th and on March 18th he arrived.

My second one happened 15 1/2 years ago. Now, my older daughter wants to be an actress, she likes the attention and she likes to make a memorable appearance. But since the police escort way had already been used she found another way to make a "grand" entrance. She decided to use the false alarm once and arrive late... like 10 days late. Driving on bumpy roads, having sex uh, I mean, cuddling, eating spicy foods, and whatnot, hoping to trigger her off... nope, nothing. My daughter came when she decided it was time and on Oct 1st she arrived. Luckily she hasn't made it a habit making people waiting for her.

My third one and the one to perfect my trifecta is the one who came when I was kinda least expecting it or planning it. In fact when my friend who had just told me she was pregnant was asking me if I wasn't going to have one more, I was really starting to get comfortable with the idea of having just two and who were, finally, old enough to wake up and get their own breakfast so I could just enjoy sleeping in on Saturday and Sunday mornings, saying "Naah, you know, I think I'm good". Little did I know then that I'd be peeing on a stick couple of weeks later that told me I'd had a winner swimmer, who'd gone through all the hurdles, and probably laughing her way towards the finish line. So, on April 2nd just over 11 years ago I had my younger daughter and I couldn't be happier with her swimming talents and determination.... even though her determination has followed her ever since and been quite challenging at times. But hey, that is a great lesson in learning the virtue of patience.

Silence is Golden. Unless you have kids. Then it's Suspicious.

My kids are pretty great, but don't tell them I said that, they all think so already. In fact I can just hear what they'd say if they'd hear me say it:

Ever since they were born they've been three big bundles of joy who make me proud, every single day, to be their mom. It's been interesting to see how different they are when it comes to their personality traits, especially given that their upbringing has pretty much been the same. It so clearly shows how everyone are unique from the start. My son for example is very patient and tolerant towards everyone, while my younger daughter can be very impatient and adamant, especially at home, so she's pretty lucky that her brother shows her so much patience. My older daughter is somewhere there in the middle but today, with the age difference between the sisters, you can imagine how the chemistry can sometimes be between them, on a "good" day. Aaah, teenagers and 11 year olds put together under the same roof, gotta love it.

My son likes computers and started showing his interest in them at a very early age. He could sit in our laps and watch what we were doing for way too long. Once when he was about 2 years old, he'd apparently been trying to do something on it, pushing buttons, moving things around on the desktop and without me knowing it. But he was so busted the next time I was going to use it. Everything was upside down, literally, and I couldn't get something to open again. And the only culprit who could've done it was my son who just looked at me all innocently and conveniently unable to explain what he'd done. Now, I'm not a complete idiot when it comes to computers but after several attempts of fixing this I gave up and put him on the chair in front of the computer, went to pick up my daughter who was complaining about the lack of attention, crossed my fingers, and hoped that when I got back he'd have undone his mess... and not make more of a mess. Low and behold, when I came back, there it all was and working perfectly. To this day I still don't know what the hell he did.

All my kids started enjoying reading from very early on. When the older kids were little, before they'd barely started talking, they preferred, when going to bed at nights, to "read" (obviously meaning looking at the pages) by themselves before going to sleep. Once, I was about to start reading for my daughter but she shook her head, stuck her hands out asking for the book and gave me a look that might as well have said:

These are her latest books

The enthusiasm for reading has reduced a little bit for my son and younger daughter but for my older one, it has increased with the years and I'm starting to think that she's read more books than I, at least if you count all her rereads. She's very strict when it comes to her books and loaning them to others is not something she takes lightly or something the one borrowing it should take lightly and there are rules that needs to be followed. Obviously, when you're a person who takes books and reading seriously.

My younger daughter loves, loves, loves painting her nails and all kinds of crafting and loves watching DIY (do it yourself) videos on Youtube. She's lucky her mom loves crafting as well and has a whole bunch of stuff to use for it... the problem is that I'm very possessive of my

Of course you can have it, hon...

crafting stuff and find it a wee bit hard to have to practice what I've been preaching to the kids their whole life. The virtue of sharing. And I'm guessing my reluctance shows, because she puts on her puppy eyes and/or sugar coated voice when asking for something from my craft supplies. I have no idea what might make her think I have any problems, what so ever, with letting her have something from my stuff she needs so she can continue doing something as creative and healthy as crafting. Surely it can't be my inward constipated look coming through...

Yesss, thanks mom, you're the best!

Her room is full of DIY projects, it's quite adorable but oh my god the million things you can do with stuff like a toilet paper roll. There's Christmas trees, ornaments, bracelets, jewelry stands, Ipod holsters, desk organizer, etc. The possibilities are endless, kind of like Bubba's shrimps.

50 Shades of Laughter

As different as they all are, they share several wonderful traits, they are kind, respectful, helpful, caring, reliable, intelligent, thoughtful and independent, to name a few. Another thing they have in common is that they're all so damn funny. I don't think a day goes by without them making me smile or laugh. Sometimes it's like having your own stand-up show. But again, please don't tell them I said that, they know it all too well. This is sooo something they'd say:

Some people might say they were just weird instead of being funny, just last night my older daughter came to me and informed me that she thought she might be a little autistic and I thought well, this should be interesting and asked if I heard her correctly and this was her reasoning...

"Yeah, for example, I don't like the letter E, it's too cocky. I mean, it thinks it's better than S and F, which by the way I think has a crush on G.

I also hate left. I wish I could always go to the right.

And what's up with the number 7, why can't it be more like the 8 or 9"

When I turned 40 last year, they woke me up with breakfast in bed and a home made card with such a sweet note on it. You can just see all the hard work they put in it and how they always know exactly what to say to their mom.

My younger daughter has the tendency to talk a lot. A. Lot. Sometimes, after a long, hectic, day at work, it can be challenging to go home and try to stay focused on what she's talking about and not to get tired in your head. I sometimes kinda zone out... don't judge me, I can't help it! Once, when she was around 4 or 5 years old, I was picking her up from kindergarten and when I arrived someone might as well have said "Aaand action!" because off she went.

She was talking when she was getting dressed, she was talking on our way to the car, she was talking when I was buckling her up, she was talking when I started the car and drove off and after about 15 minutes of talking and me pitching in a word or two, trying to say the right things at the right times, she asked me "Mom, how long have I been talking?" I told her that (not that she had a great sense of time) and then she said:

"Yeah, I've been talking a lot haven't I? I've been talking since you picked me up. I've been talking so much that I've got a side stitch"

I laughed so hard that I almost had to stop the car on the way home.

What the older kids once planned to do in an elevator

Growing Pains

It really has been, and continues to be, a privilege to be able to call these "little" rascals my children. I say "little" because apparently, they aren't so little anymore, not according to society anyway. Pfft, what do they know.

Just last year, I was washing my son's clothes, finding him a suitcase and then couple of days later standing in his new school dorm room, kissing him goodbye. Yeah, sure, he'd be at home most weekends and on holidays. But it's soooo not the same.

And on top of that, I'm dealing with the painful reality of having a son who actually has a driver's learner permit. A. DRIVER'S. LEARNER. PERMIT! I mean, how is it possible that my sweet, little, pumpkin who just ever so recently was pooping in a diaper, is now in the driver's seat of my car, starting it and driving off! And I have to hand him the keys, willingly!? Really?

Oh my dear sweet lords, where ever they are hiding, have no idea the willpower I have to use while sitting there acting all cool, calm, collective, and encouraging, while secretly I'm pinching my thigh and biting my tongue, instead of grabbing whatever hold there is in this damn dangerous thing called a car and not making a shrieking sound, so I won't make him nervous or think I don't have complete faith in him. Which I do. It's just the overprotective mommy alarm system kicking in who wouldn't mind if the traffic rules said that your kids and yourself had to wear a helmet and other protection gear while driving. Just sayin'.

I wonder if I could put up a sound proof glass in the car
in case I'd blurt out a shriek here and there.

"Growing pains" - I always thought it was directed at the children but as the kids grow older I'm convinced it's directed at the parents, at least at me, and the pain is not just in the legs, I tell you.

I'm at a cross road, where I'm halfway sending two of my kids into the world, forced to let go of their hands. And I have to cross my fingers and hope for the best. Hope that I've managed to teach them some valuable lessons that will stick with them and they continue to be strong, responsible, confident, caring, independent, individuals who make wise choices and follow their dreams. Thank goodness that my determined little swimmer will be with me for the next several years to cuddle with me and hold my hand.

Growing pains are hard, I need all the cuddling I can get... and alcohol... . But my kids make it all worth while and then some. Plus laughter is said to be the best medicine and with my little hilarious minions I'll have buckets of that. And I guess the kids having a driver's license one day will turn out to be a good thing. I mean, after having a beer or two I can't drive anyway. My older daughter will get her driver's learner permit next year and I just hope she remembers what she said to me the other day when she called me to ask me when I was coming home and I said that I was on my way and jokingly added that I didn't know when I'd come, that her brother was driving.

My daughter (acting all distressed): OMG, really!? Make sure you have your seatbelt on and don't let him go over 25 mph!
Me: Hmmm, well, then he needs to slow down by 25 mph.
My daughter (now acting even more distressed): MOM! Are you telling me he's going 50 mph?!!
Me: Yeah.
My daughther (speaking as fast as she can): Ok, mom, if you don't make it home just remember, I love you...