Bad things happen in 3's...X 2.

So, my day yesterday? It pretty much takes the cake on a scale of suckiness.

First thing, Josh-the-diaper-ripper took a pee on the rug in his room. Sadly, this isn't a one time deal. He's obsessed with his weiner and loves to be free.

Then Nicky got a hold of the counter cleaner and sprayed it in his face. That was after he ate half the sugar/cinnamon mix that I keep for sandwiches etc. The rest of it went all over the counter and floor. I'm pretty sure he won't be messing with the cleaner again after I bent him backward over the tub and poured a jug of cold water over his head. Kids gotta learn somehow right?

To finish off the trifecta of awesomeness, Josh got the bottle of maple syrup out of the fridge and oh so quietly emptied most of it onto the kitchen floor. In multiple areas. And then walked through it and all over the house before I noticed. I'm pretty sure he rolled in it a bit too, just as a 'fuck you' to his mom. Pardon the language.

This was all before 9 am.

I was able to keep my cool, clean up the messes, and generally be chill for the remainder of the day. Don't get me wrong, I still wanted to run screaming out of the house (locking them inside for safety's sake of course), but I managed to persevere. And then 4:30 hit.

At 4:30 a couple things happened all at once. Actually it was 3 main things, which makes me think that those people that say bad things happen in 3's do know what the hell they're talking about.

You know how when you're trying to make dinner that's the time when the kids decide to get all whiney and clingy and just generally annoying? They were both hanging off each of my legs and hitting each other and arguing.

Then Liam calls from his friends house to tell me that there's "some thing" at his new Junior High that he has to go to at 6:30 but it's okay because he can go with his friend and the friends dad. And oh ya, he had a sheet about it but it was lost and "oh my God why is it a big deal".

Um, kid. Maybe it's a big deal because I NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THIS SHIT. What if fees needed to be paid? What if there was information that couldn't be trusted to a 12 year old to be relayed? What if I just want to be there because you're my first born who's going into Junior High and it's a milestone?

So while my feelings are all hurt over THAT crap, I go downstairs to grab some veggies for the stir fry only to find that my storage room has flooded. Cue the swearing and slamming of doors and ohmygod everybody should be glad they were not around me at that exact moment. My poor sister was on the phone with me but she's all ragey too so she wasn't fazed one bit.

What have I learned from my crap day yesterday? Tears really ARE the best manipulator on the planet. Tears over the phone to Jeff made him pack his shit up and come home right away, stopping at Costco to pick up a new shop vac. Tears made Liam feel like crap for being insensitive and he one arm hugged me and told me he hoped the rest of my day went better as he was on his way out to his 'some thing' at the school. And tears made the 2 little ones cuddle up in my lap and be calm.

I don't pull them out often. Jeff could probably count on one hand the times he's seen me cry in our years together. But DAMN will I allow them to come if I ever have another day like yesterday.

*right now my child-free-by-choice friends are patting themselves on the back for having made such a smart decision. Touche, my friends ;)

Buzzed.

Sometimes things don't work out quite how they're intended. That's what happened to me yesterday.

Now, I don't claim to have any talent as a hairdresser at ALL. That doesn't stop me from being a cheap bastard and cutting my kids hair myself. Technically that wasn't my intention when I pulled out the scissors yesterday. We were actually planning on taking them to a real-life hairdresser and getting them each a cut from a professional. For real. I'm NOT just saying that after the fact.

But I got so tired of the bangs in their eyes so I decided to just trim a tiny little bit off the bangs and at the nape just to hold over until we made it to the mall. Our weekends have been so busy lately that we haven't made it and the thought of taking them both by myself...well let's say that pretty much anything else would be preferable.

Josh sat there fine while I trimmed. He looked a little goofy but I figured it would be a week tops till we got it fixed so meh, whatever. Then it was Nickys turn. I'm going along, he's twisting around, and then it happened. His bangs were cut to about an inch long. GOOBER. See below.

My cousin was over having coffee and she was laughing her ass off the whole time. She even tried to tell me he looked fine. SURE DEB.

It was time for the clippers and the rite of passage: the buzz cut. Best friend of cheap parents everywhere. Again, Josh sat happily still for the cut. Which suprised me because of the two I was sure he was the one I was going to be chasing around like a crazed clipper-killer.

Nicky was a totally different story. It took me an hour, a sucker, a chocolate pudding, some fruit snacks, and a daddy to finally get the job done. Screaming and crying as if I was torturing him. Pleading and begging and bargaining. A couple times I had him wedged between my thighs and managed a couple swipes up the back. Then Jeff got home and managed to sweet talk him into sitting still for the 60 seconds it took to complete the job.

Much praise ensued, and I gotta say they look pretty damn cute. They look even more alike now and last night when they were sleeping I almost didn't know which was which. This morning when I unleashed them on Jeff to wake him up, he asked me which one was poking his head up over the side of the bed.

Big news!

It's official. After three years of watcing soap operas, napping, and lounging around on my fat ass eating bon-bons, I am re-entering the work force.

Okay, even I couldn't keep a straight face writing that out. I haven't watched a soap opera since I was about 13, my ass, while not quite as trim as it was 10 years ago, is certainly not fat, and I prefer chips to candy or chocolate. I'll totally cop to the napping.

I've been throwing around the idea of getting a part time job for a while now. And since I'm nothing if not dedicated to procrastination, it's taken me about a year and a half to get to the actual point of dropping off resumes. Which I did on Sunday. At the mall. Because retail is just what I'm looking for right now - easy.

Bright and early Monday I got a call from the store that I actually hoped to get an interview at. After scrambling trying to find someone to watch the hooligans (didn't happen) I set it up for Tuesday afternoon.

And I totally rocked the interview. I knew I did, and I knew I got the job. But, just as a parent may take perverse pleasure in embarassing her children, potential employers take satisfaction in waiting until the end of the next day before calling a person and telling them they got the job. I had given up hope and was thanking my lucky stars I hadn't written anything publicly on facebook so I didn't look like a loser that I didn't get a mall job. Because I am all weird like that.

But of course I got the job! I'm batting 6 for 7 here. I think that's the correct baseball terminology? I go in today to pick up the employment package and I'm guessing I'll start sometime next week. Time to start saving up for my trip in September, you know all those American stores will be calling my name!

Not to mention, the opportunity to interact with other humans besides Thing One and Thing Two. Who are total cutie pies, don't get me wrong. But they're exhausting and honestly a job at this point would be a vacation.

I Love You!

I don't do it very often anymore, but it really starts my day of great when I follow Liam onto the porch when he's leaving for school and call out in a really loud voice "I love you, have a great day at school!".

We came to an agreement a while ago that I am allowed to say say those things ONLY in the privacy of our own home. It's made our mornings infinitely more streamlined when I'm not dealing with a bitchy 12 year old because I've admitted to STRANGERS that I, *gasp*, love him and care about him.

Because, you know, our street is just full of random people at 8am standing around waiting to hear a mom tell her son she loves him on his way to school. And then they laugh at him because OH THE HORROR.

What with how prickly and anti-mom he is now, you'd never know that this kid held my hand at all times till he was 7 and insisted I carry him well into kindergarten. Seriously. So that's why when I follow him outside and call out to him, and then I get the bellow back that I'm not supposed to say those things outside (but secretly I can tell he's pleased...right?), it gives me a perverse sense of glee. It makes me happy to have that slight little one-up on him that maybe only another parent of a pre-teen can understand.

Another by product of this getting older business is his interest in girls. It's just exploded and I was expecting it but still it smacked me up the head just the same. Honestly, it was like one day he thought they were annoying and the next he was showering every morning and making me blowdry his Beiber hair. Girls calling him, facebook chatting with him, hanging out with him at the park. GAHHHH.

But thankfully and perhaps suprisingly for my kid, he's kept a pretty open dialogue with me on what is appropriate and what's not when it comes to 'dating'. As far as a 12 year old sixth-grader can 'date'. I know this honesty won't last forever, junior high is beckoning.

So while these teen years are going to be a pain in my ass, I can still take comfort in the ability to embarass the crap outta him. I've figured out the age old rant of teenagers everywhere, why our parents were so annoying.

I've totally got this.