Todays Rant - Don't make me drop the eff bomb on you, contractors.

So, The Powers That Be, AKA the owners of our humble abode, hired some contractors to redo the siding on a few of the houses down here in our lil culdesac. Which is fantabulous, and awesome, and fully of happy good times and joy for all. But, of course, I am exaggerating my rather large ass off.

First, they started hammering on the walls about 6 a.m wednesday.Which, although inconveinent, is understandable. Everyone has to make a living, the sooner you start the sooner you can go home, blah blah. All fine and dandy. Then Thursday two of the workers got in to a screaming match, dropping the f-bomb and all sorts of un-child-friendly words at each other...right outside of my oldest two boys' bedroom window. (I was alerted to this when my almost-four year old piped up with "Mommy, what is a fuckstick?") Then, I noticed Thursday evening that they left some trash in the yard. A few sweet tea cups and a bag from a certain fast food chain, a soda bottle and a few cans, and an empty pack of cigarettes. I was a tad bit peeved, but I just let it be figuring they'd clean it up the next day.

Then, the straw that broke the camels back: I let one of them in to my laundry room, as he had to attach the new outside vent for my dryer. No big. He went about his business while I cleaned, and then he left. This morning, as I was helping Hubby get ready for work, I open up the dryer door and lo and behold, what do I see but the light from inside the dryer shining out the top of the unit. This has never happened before, so I was a bit perplexed. I turned on the light in the room to get a better view, and what do I see but a gigantic dent in the top of my $900 dollar dryer that has the metal so bent in that the frame around the front is popped out over the top.  I promptly picked up an axe and murdered all three contractors. Okay, that last part might be a BIT of an exaggeration. But, I did utter a few colorful words  and make Hubby come see the damage. From what we can see, we assume that this 6 foot something, 200 and something pound man climbed on TOP of my dryer to attach the pipe that goes outside. When there was a chair provided for him that i myself, in all of my five feet of shortness, can reach the pipe from whilst standing upon. If you are thinking "what the f-wording-f-word" you are correct.

Since today just happens to be a Saturday (because OF COURSE it is) there is seemingly nothing that I can do but sit and fume for the next two days, until Monday morning when I will be contacting the owners of said abode to find out the name of the contracting business. It's a dent, in a dryer, which I know seems like a petty thing to be so irate over, but it's the principle of the matter. Like, if your job is to improve peoples homes, let's be wise and have a little respect for their belongings in the process. I thought it would be common sense NOT to climb on top of someone's shit without letting them know, but apparently, "you can't fix stupid."

Why potty training is like bringing a knife to a gun fight, and other reasons parenting is better than a soap opera.

It may just be me, but i have come to find that parenting is full of drama. You have your daily meltdowns over pouring the wrong kind of juice, your epic battles over who had that lego first, and, lest we forget, the oh-so-enthralling dramatic renditions of "why snow white is the prettiest princess and cinderella is yucky" or whatever other life-changing conclusion a certain three year old who loves to give a good speech has reached today. I used to be obsessed with televised drama, such as Teen Mom, The Kardashians, even a few good ole' soap operas, but now (aside from the obvious "TV?!?! Who has time for TV? There are dishes to be done and crap i should've already started on dinner and OMG GET DOWN/GET UP/PUT THAT AWAY/GET THAT OUT OF THERE/LEAVE YOUR BROTHER ALONE/WHY ARENT YOU PLAYING WITH YOUR SISTER/MOMMY NEEDS A NAP/COFFEE/WALL TO BANG HER HEAD AGAINST" that is my daily life) I just can't get interested in other peoples drama when there is so much excitement/craziness/inexplicable insanity involved in raising four kids under the age of four.

For instance, we have begun potty training my second-youngest, (who, for the purpose of anonymity, I shall lovingly refer to as "The next John Candy", due to his penchant for thick, ugly sweaters and the fact that he is just a tad bit chubby) now, The Next John Candy is a rather stubborn child. He is one of those rebel-without-a-cause, screw-you-milestones-you-dont-tell-me types of children who walked late, isnt much of a talker, and generally just marches to the beat of his own drum. He just randomly decided a few weeks back that he was ready to use the potty, and has been doing exceptionally well...when he feels like it. I will try and try to get him to "peepee in the potty" and on occasion he will go when we take him. However, he has decided that, much like everything else, he will decide how to use the potty on his own terms. As it turns out, his terms are as follow;

Wait until Mommy tries to take me potty.
Sit for an undetermined amount of time (roughly 3 minutes to half an hour)
Get up, get pants on, and wonder off.
Wait until Mommy is cleaning/cooking/tending to my brothers or sister.
Promptly strip my clothes of, throw myself down on the floor and scream "stinky" or 'Pee"
Wait for Mommy to take me potty again.
Sit for another chunk of time.
Get up, wonder off.
Poop pants, and scream some more.

And, although I, admittedly, am the queen of exaggeration, I vow to you, dear interneters, that this is exactly what goes down, at least twice a day. I try not to push too much, or stress over this whole potty-training-fiasco, as he is not quite even two years of age. Nevertheless, I have decided this whole "Look at me go potty, I'm a big boy" act is just a well-thought out plan to drive me insane (because yes, a two year old's mind IS a dark, vengeful place, full of nothing but evil and wrong-doings and...thoughts of gummy worms and Spongebob) or, it is all part of his elaborate scheme to fool me in to thinking he's NOT going to potty so that i will turn away for a split second, just long enough for him to do his business on my bathroom rug (true story)