Skeletor's Birthday Bash!

     My sweet angel baby, Skeletor, turned 6 on Wednesday.  We had a small family party on Sunday.  It all went quite smoothly considering that we went out to eat at my place of employment.  As this was only Skeletor's second time at a restaurant that doesn't have a playground, I was nervous.  But it all went well.  Cake was eaten, presents were opened, pinatas were beaten.  Good times all around.  I will now bombard you with pictures.  You're welcome.

Kick-ass shark cake!

Birthday boy!

Miss Priss and Sassafrass looking so sweet.

My brother, Mr. Awesome, and my mom, The Mamaw.

Smarty Pants looking so grown!  :(

"I'm going to eat you, lobster."

Decisions are hard.

Captain Gingerbeard looks veeerrrry sleeeeepy.

Some random hobo in a Red Lobster  jacket.

The girl's got skills.

The face of pure happiness.

Shark cage!

Beat that shark like he owes you money!

Fishy.

My mom likes toys.

Skeletor's shark face.

Sharks are delicious.

Cupcakes for school.  And that's all, folks!

5 Second Parenthood Readiness Test

          Do you find yourself wondering if you are ready to be a parent?  If you read this blog, in all likelyhood you have already reproduced, but I'm sure there are exceptions to this rule.  Regardless, if you read the following anecdote, and you find it anything other than completely reasonable, then you are probably not ready for parenthood.  Because no event in my life has more perfectly encapsulated the very essence of raising kids than this one.  Over the last couple of weeks, Skeletor has been having...poop issues.  Yeah, I know.  TMI.  Whatever.  We've all been there.  Point being, is that the aforementioned feces (baby mice!) were colored in such a way as to freak us out.  And, keep in mind, I'm a mother and a grown-ass woman, so green poop doesn't scare me.  Anyhoozle, the Captain and I were being all eagle eyed and such about the boy's trips to the bathroom.  We also had long, detailed conversations about them.  We were right on the verge of taking him to the doctor, where there would have been bloodwork done and traumas endured, when the Chalky Menace finally ended.  While I was at work on Saturday night, Skeletor had a poop so lovely and normal looking that Captain Gingerbeard was inspired to take a picture of it for me.  When I got home that night, I was greeted with the digital image of my son's leavings.  And, after marveling with relief at the utter typical-ness of the poo, I began to laugh my ass off.  Because, as I mentioned earlier, I can't think of a more perfect analogy for parenting than taking a picture of your child's poop. 

Rhyming Dirty Words

     Let's just forget my last hissy fit of a blog post, shall we?  Is that cool with everyone?  Yes?  Good.  Moving on, then.  Shortly before Christmas, Skeletor's class began really hammering home the concept of rhyming words.  Either that, or Skeletor just waited until then to show off his new skill.  Regardless, the boy has been walking around rhyming everything.  At first, I was all, "Yay!  Good job, boy child!  I'm so very proud of you!"  But that pride has suddenly changed to...well, a mixture of feelings.
     In the last couple of months, Skeletor has become very "interested" in sharks.  Meaning, of course, that he eats, sleeps, breathes, and talks about nothing but sharks.  Especially Jaws.  Jaws is his jam.  I say all of that to say this.  Everyone knows the scene at the end of the movie "Jaws" where Brody feeds Jaws an oxygen tank and utters the iconic "Smile, you son of a" line before blowing Jaws into chum.  Well, that scene is classic for a reason.  And, as such, it has resonated with Skeletor, too.  Honestly, I don't even know if the movie actually finishes that line, but a lot of the YouTube "Jaws" parodies that Skeletor has been watching certainly do.  (Yeah, I know.  I'm a crappy parent.  Whatevers.)
     ANYWAY, to finally get to the point of this post, learning how to rhyme plus shark explosion related dirty words has led to Skeletor's new favorite past time, rhyming dirty words.  First it was, "Smile, you son of a witch!"  Now, it's "dumblass" and "bam!"  I'm sure it's just a matter of time before he graduates to "motherclucker."  Frankly, I was unaware that the boy had so many curse words stored away in that brain of his.  (Again, I suck at life and parenting.)
     Part of me is chagrined.  All I need is for him to go off on a rhyming tangent at school.  I've already been there and done that this school year.  Another part of me is impressed by the critical thinking skills required to pull this off.  But, mostly?  I just think it's freaking hilarious.

I don't know why I find this so funny.

Get It Together, Lady!

     Alternate title: Why I Suck At Life.  So, I am in a full on shame spiral these days.  Overwhelmed doesn't even do it justice.  I feel like there's so much crap that I need to be doing, and I'm not getting anything done.  And I don't mean "I really should wash those baseboards" kind of stuff.  I'm talking therapies, educational needs, disability services...and those baseboards.  Skeletor has been making remarkable improvements with his speech and his behavior, but there is still so much to do.  I look at all these blogs and articles, and, where they used to inspire me to action, they now seem to exhaust me.  There is so much that I could be doing for my son and for my other children, but I can't seem to find the forward momentum to do one more thing.  And I'm not okay with this.  I'm an over-achiever.  I always have been.  And I'm not used to having to try so hard at things.  But this whole special needs parenting shebang is kicking my ass all over the place.  I truly have to get it together.  Because I can do better. 

How I feel about life, right now.

Merry Christmas from the Future!

Where our robot overlords are fair and just and not at all tyrannical or terrifying.

    

This Is/Was Halloween!

     As some of you may remember, Halloween is kind of a big deal around my house.  My boy child, Skeletor, feels that October 31 is better than Christmas, his birthday, Easter, and Valentine's Day all combined.  I tend to agree with him.  Other than working and baby raising, I really haven't done anything for the last few weeks except prepare for the big event.  I'm still exhausted, so I will now release unto the world a lame-o post that is mostly pictures.  You're ever so welcome.

Smarty Pants is clearly the most
 beautifulest witchy poo ever!

Miss Priss, the pretty gypsy girl.

Sassafrass as a gangster ninja. 
That's my girl!

Count Skeletor!

Captain Gingerbeard as Frankenstein.

Shield your eyes!  We're just too cute!

Miss Priss found that Corpse Bride to be suspect.

Visiting the graves of her enemies.

Reaching Nirvana.  Not to be confused with Narnia.

     And with that, my friends, I bid you good day and stuff.  I hope your Halloween was as awesome and spookalicious as ours was!

Inner Turmoil!

     ***Update/Prologue/Maybe It's an Epilogue Since I Wrote It Last***

     (Kimberly at All Work And No Play Make Mommy Go Something Something suggested that I link this up to her Secret Mommyhood Confession Saturday.  And so I am.  Because one does not dismiss a suggestion from such an illustrious lady.  That would be like turning down a cup of tea with the Queen of England.  Queen of Canada?)

    Today I took young Master Skeletor to a psychological evaluation at the hands of the State in order to see if he qualifies for SSI.  (SSI means Social Security something that starts with I, for those of you who are just not as informed as I am.)  As I'm unable to work full time hours while simultaneously preventing my son from laying waste to entire cityscapes, this extra cashflow each month would be greatly appreciated.  And thus ends the portion of this post where I attempt to justify my family's suckling at the government's teat.  Or suckling attempts.  Attempted suckling.  Whatever, point being is we went to a doctor's appointment today where, unlike any other place or time, we kind of wanted our child to be on his worst behavior.  Maybe that's putting it wrong.  More autistic-y?  Ugh, now I've probably offended.  We wanted the full scope of his condition to be shown so that the doctor could make an informed decision about our child's need for SSI.  (Whew, finally spit it out.)  The evaluation went very well, but during the course of the appointment, I grew very confused.  The doctor was giving Skeletor all sorts of tests and other official thingamabobs, and the kid was blowing them out of the water.  The doctor paused mid-question to inform me that "he's sharp!"  Which placed me in such a strange predicament.  There I was being all super proud of my clearly genetically enhanced child, while at the same time hoping that my son's performance on this test wouldn't negate his receiving the SSI benefits that we so desperately need.  Now I feel all guilty.  And dirty.  I'm going to go take a shower, and try to wash off my shame.

Please, sir, may I have some more?  (This is how I felt today.)