NYE, Campbell Style

We ended 2011 in true Campbell fashion – dramatic, followed by a trip to the ER.  I’ve got to hand it to my kids – they really know how to make a statement. 

Typically Ryder is the one who ends up in the ER due to his asthma but this time Cortland got to be a part of the action.  And he tops all of Ryder’s trips in the last two years since he had a febrile seizure and a ride in an ambulance.

I am not well versed in seizures since no one I know has ever had one (that I’ve witnessed or was aware of) and therefore did not know that you NEVER put your finger in someone’s mouth when they are having one.  This would have been valuable info for me since my first instinct was to put my finger in Cortland’s mouth to prevent him from swallowing his tongue.     I’m sure the 911 dispatcher thought I was a grade A idiot when I told her, almost in tears, that he was about to bite my finger off.  Clearly I seize all opportunities to look like an dumbass (no pun intended). 

Thankfully, he was just fine and back to his shenanigans by the end of the day.  I, however, may never fully recover from watching him have a seizure and being completely helpless.  For those of you who deal with this regularly, I am truly sorry.  There is nothing worse than feeling helpless when it comes to your children.

2012 has started off on a quiet note, which is fine with me.  However, I’m waiting for something to happen.  Five days in and still, nothing.  Makes me nervous, people.  I know these punks far too well to believe 2012 is going to run this smoothly for long. 

Happy 2012, friends.  I wish you health, joy, laughter and much love.  Remember to appreciate each “season” of your life you are in – one day we’ll all look back and wish we were exactly where we are today. 

XOXO

Lame Excuses

The good news is, I’m not dead (I suppose that depends on who you ask).  The bad news is, I’ve just been lazy and have been avoiding this blog like the plague. 

I’ve missed a few opportunities to post in the last month, okay, almost two months, so here’s a quick recap. 

Zach’s birthday – he’s old.  38 now.  Still four years older than me and I like it like that. 

Thanksgiving – fantastic holiday spent with some of my very favorite people in the whole United States of America. 

Aidan’s birthday – 11 now and growing up entirely too fast for my liking.  Before we know it he’ll be driving and our insurance will have doubled.  Punk.

Christmas – Amazing like every year.  So much fun when you have four punks to celebrate the holiday with.  I totally get how it becomes so much more fun when you become a parent. 

My Mom’s birthday – She would have been 65 today.  She’s missed out on so much since she’s been gone and I will never be the same. 

Emmerson’s losing teeth like she needs the money.  Cortland is into everything and making me lose my mind, up in HERE, up in HERE.  Ryder is wrestling now and that’s just, well, funny.  Aidan is more obsessed with hunting today than he was yesterday and that makes me feel for his future wife.  I feel her pain.  Seriously.  I feel you girl.  Call me, we can shop.

I’d love to report that my house is in better shape than it’s ever been but the truth is our dogs hate our guts and ate part of our carpet in our bedroom.  Sure, we’ve been planning on replacing the 22 year old carpet in there but we haven’t been ready to part with the lovely mauve, quite yet.  On a happier note, I’ve convinced Zach that hardwood is the way to go and I see dark bamboo in my not so distant future.  I love winning. 

I’d also love to tell you that this holiday break was filled with crafts and baking and doing all sorts of neat stay-at-home mom kind of things but that’d be bold face lie.  I did have the kids paint snowmen one day, and I did make chex mix but my plans for cookies, homemade cinnamon rolls and breakfast’s from scratch were just a figment of my imagination.  I did manage to make four kick-ass Christmas ornaments, so that has to count for something, right?  Pinterest has me feeling all crafty.

I haven’t been solving any crimes (which is a shame given my detective skillz), or completely reorganizing my home, or homeschooling my children, or writing my first book.  I wish I could say that I’m totally caught up on Teen Mom 2 and all my Housewives but that hasn’t happened either.  It’s called life and I’ve been living it and my kids have sucked the energy right out of me to do anything at the end of the day. 

I have high hopes for 2012.  I’ve got a list a mile long of things for my husband to do around the house and my resolution list is ridiculous and completely over-zealous.  I like to think that in a matter of days I will wake up and do all of the things I thought about doing this year, all because I made a list. 

I mean, after the hangover is gone and all.

I’m Right. Again.

Sometimes you have to endure a night of pure hell, just to prove you’re right.  At least I do.  Especially when it comes to proving a point to Zach.  Petty?  Perhaps.  But sometimes I need to remind him who’s boss around here.

Last weekend Zach had a friend in town to deer hunt so he spent a nice amount of quality time out where he hunts.  He thought it would be a fantastic idea for the four punks and I to join them on Friday evening.  We’re invited out often but I typically turn down this invitation because being cooped up in a cabin with four punks isn’t usually the most enjoyable way to spend a night. 

Zach wouldn’t give up this time.  Oh no, he talked about how much fun it would be, how the kids would love it,  how I never come out.  So I gave in and loaded up a suburban full of crap, which he felt was a ridiculous amount of stuff to take for one night (uh, hello?  We have four kids.  This is traveling light, pal).  Oh, and three dogs.  Luckily, the cat can survive for a night by herself.

There are a couple of things to keep in mind:  we eat dinner about 6pm every night and the three small punks are in bed by 7:30.  Mama doesn’t screw with this schedule because it works.  And it is awesome. 

Emmerson and Ryder decide that running around, screaming like a couple of crack heads is a perfectly acceptable way to behave when we arrive.  Cortland wants to play his game of push mom and dad as hard as you can so they will pick you up.  When he loses, he only wants to cry.  And scream.  Aidan just wants to talk.  A lot.  In a minute he manages to say “Dad” no less than 30 times.  In typical fashion, the Campbell’s have arrived.

We eat dinner at 8pm.  It’s spaghetti which three of four punks have declared they don’t like.  There are tears and whining and complaining about dinner. 

Finally, it’s time to put the short people to bed.  Emmerson and Ryder  snuggle up to watch a movie (because mama was smart enough to bring the portable DVD player),  Aidan watches hunting with the big guys and I put Cort down for the night.  This would have worked perfectly except there wasn’t a snow balls chance in hell Cort was going to go to bed.  Instead, he screamed, at the top of his little lungs, for 20 minutes straight.  Got him up for a bit, put him back down, more screaming, repeat.  About 10 times.  He finally fell asleep at midnight, in bed with Zach and I. 

Then, because only I could be so lucky, Zach’s alarm went off at 4:30 (so he and Aidan could go hunting) and Cort was up again and there was no putting him back to bed. 

I took advantage of this early morning by loading up the suburban with the endless amount of crap we brought so that when Emmerson and Ryder got up we could get the hell out of there.

It was a tough lesson for Zach to learn (and for me to teach) but I think he finally understands that I really do know best when it comes to our punks. 

And now I have a free pass for whatever it is I don’t want to do, no questions asked.  Winner.

Happy Halloween, From the Punks

Daphne, a skeleton ghost (minus his mask), one little lobster and Bunko.

 

There was no way I was getting any more pictures from these punks – they had more important things to do than stand around for pictures.  In the future I will be taking pictures a week in advance so I can get more than two. 

Since you all know how I procrastinate, do not expect more than two pictures, taken with my phone, next year. 

A Big, Fat, Hairy Mistake

Some of you may remember a certain blog I wrote regarding Ryder and pulling his pants down in front of my friend.  If you didn’t catch that one, go back and read it for a good laugh.  I’ve learned that he will never cease to amaze, or embarrass, me. 

Without thinking I titled that blog post, “My Little N*dist”.  Not because he runs around without his clothes often but simply because I thought it was fitting, given the situation. 

Let me tell you, that blog title was a GRADE A MISTAKE.  The reason why?  There are tons, tons I tell you, of freaks out there goggling “little nudists” and other such search words and guess who’s post pops up, pretty often?  Yes, mine.  Like every single day often.  Seriously. 

I’m sure I’ve been responsible for great pervert disappointment, all over the world, when they discover a funny story about one of my punks, not actual dirty material.   I hope it’s like a punch in the junk.

So remember friends, you don’t ever want to use the “N” word in your blog titles. 

This is has been a public service announcement.

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far From the Tree

Zach has said, basically since Emmerson was born, that she is her mother’s child.  While it is true, that I grew her in my belly and brought her into this world, I have always tried to downplay the hidden meaning in his words.  However, it is becoming increasingly clear to me that she is in fact, her mother’s child.

Last weekend we loaded up the kids and headed to the most magnificent pumpkin patch of them all, Walter's Pumpkin Patch. 

This is a snapshot of Emmerson wigging out on a simple teeter-totter.  Notice the smiles on the boy’s faces and the look of fear on hers?  Turns out this girl didn’t get her daddy’s love of rides, but her mama’s fear of them.  And although I wouldn’t consider this a true “ride”, there was enough going on to freak her right out.  For the record, I’d like to let everyone know my fear does not run deep enough that I can’t have a little fun on a teeter-totter.  Even the big ones.  Giddy up.

Here are the boys having a blast on the slides:

This is Emmerson on the slide:

Clearly, this girl is not into rides, slides, things that move fast and things that she doesn’t have control over.  I pretty much fit into this category as well.  One time Zach and his friend convinced me to go on the Mummy ride at Universal Studios.  They said it was a kiddy ride and it wasn’t fast and that I would love it.  There were lots of kids in line so I fell right into their little trap.  Have any of you been on this flipping ride???  It’s in the dark and it goes frontward and backward and it’s fast and scary.  I don’t know what was best, the picture the ride takes of everyone so you can see how stupid and scared you look (like I need any documentation of that around) or the fact that I spent the rest of the day throwing up.  You know what those two got?  Two big birds.  Dicks.

One night at dinner Emmerson told us that they were doing some cool exercises in P.E.  She got down on the floor and attempted to do a sit up, which was hilarious.  Legs stretched out in front of her and barely raising herself off the floor.  She defended herself by telling us she needed someone to hold her legs.  That much we had gathered.

Now, I can do sit-ups and a lot of them.  Put me in a muscle pump class and I can kick some muscle ass.  Yoga?  I’m bendy as can be.  Sports?  Negative.  The only thing I did growing up was gymnastics and I just didn’t have the drive to stick with that.  There was a time when I was about eight that I wanted to play soccer like my brother.  However, one day I was bent over fixing the laces on my Barbie skates and my brother kicked a soccer ball as hard as he could from 20 feet away and hit me right in the face, knocking me over and inducing blood curdling screams.  You know what my parents said?  “That’s why you shouldn’t play soccer.”  Apparently they recognized my lack of athletic ability at a young age and didn’t have the heart to tell me about it.  This incident was an easy out for them.

Instead of sports I found my niche on the “Drinking Team” where I had a successful career and found myself team captain.  All of my hard work was evident when I came home for winter break from KU and showed my parents how good I was a pool and darts.  They were proud, as any good parents are of their successful offspring.  They were not proud when I flunked out of school due to more concentration on fun, rather than actual school.  This is one area I really hope that Emmerson and I are completely opposite. 

Other areas we are exactly alike:  we both like to sing and dance, we are both sassy, love great shoes, we get motion sick easily, we like to read and color, we are mother hens, rule followers and we both have attitudes the size of Texas.  Oh, and we’re both funny.  And smart.  And cute. 

It’s true, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, folks.

And Just Like That, He’s Four

After numerous discussions about you staying little forever, you went ahead and had another birthday.  We really need to work on our communication, little man. 

You are now four years old and in preschool.  I can’t figure out how it is possible that you have been all mine for four years already.  Before I know it you are going to be driving and staying out past your curfew and dating girls that mommy doesn’t like.  (Just so you know, mommy probably won’t be fond of any of the girls you date because none of them will ever be good enough for my little skeleton.  I’m sorry, but it’s true.)

You are so full of life and love and kindness and you are truly one of a kind.  You bring me endless laughter and I hope that as you grow up you will stay as weird and as funny as you are now.  I also hope that all of your dreams come true and you can be a skeleton when you grow up but I don’t see how that gig is going to pay the bills.  I love you endlessly but I don’t want you living at home when you’re 30, so I do hope you’ll keep your options open and consider college.

You manage to capture the hearts of everyone who knows you.  It could be your hair, or perhaps it’s just the cool kid that you are.  I like to think it’s a fine balance of both. 

Or it could be the fact you get home from school and put on these skeleton pajamas every single day and wear spooky masks every chance you get.  I have a feeling you will be working at a haunted house by the time you are seven. 

Your love of all things scary, dragons, bugs and frogs is something I can’t really relate to but I do try to appreciate them.  However, if you need help catching a frog you need to talk to Dad because I will be completely worthless, as you have already learned this past summer. 

While I strive to be a good mom you often threaten  that you are about to “fire me”.  I would like to take this opportunity to point out that if you fire the mom things will go downhill quickly around here.  Remember last week when I left dad in charge?  You ate dinner at 8pm.  I’d like you to keep that in mind the next time you consider letting me go.

You are my heart and soul and I can’t imagine loving you more than I already do.  Yet, every day you do or say something that makes me fall even more in love with you.  You are such a sweet boy and I am so proud of you and so thankful I get to call you mine. 

Thank you for making the last four years of my life, four of the very best I’ve ever had. 

Happy Birthday Ryder Grey.