I don't use my real name here and try to keep my identity semi-secret because let's face it. Do you really want to know your child's preschool teacher swears like a sailor? And shrieks at her own children? And I won't even mention more than the words "nap time nookie." Uh-huh... I thought so.
I have been a teacher for 10 years which means I have been paying 1/8 of my monthly salary to pay for the student loans that paid for the education that promised me rewards greater than wealth for 1/3 of my life. FYI - "Rewards greater than wealth" sound really noble and worthwhile when you are a college student who has never been responsible for paying for anything but your half of the pizza and beer.
I started teaching because kids enchanted me. I keep teaching because a few still do and because I'm really good at it.
I have been a mother since 10:55 a.m. on August 30, 2003. This is my specialty. I am the Queen of the Testosterone Trio, and am almost completely resigned to the fact that I will, in fact, have to "spell it out" each and every time. For all of them. I snuggle instead of doing dishes or laundry. Sometimes there is so much snuggling that we wear the least dirty clothes in the pile. I serve ice cream for dinner and throw "Because Parties" in the middle of our long New England winters. The two "Circus" freaks below are the reason I was born...
The Six Year Old
My first born... now officially older than I ever thought he'd be when I was pregnant with him. Not that I didn't think he'd live that long, although there are those days too... I guess I just never let my imagination wander beyond the Spider-Man undies.
Quote: "Mom, I was born to run..."
He can gallop on all fours like a zebra and without breaking stride, pop up onto his feet and keep running. He can fall back into a gallop from a full on sprint just as easily. I like him...
The Tornado is sensitive and loves animals, babies and dinosaurs... just like he did when he was three.
The day he realized he had eye brows he threw his arms in the air and exclaimed "Yay! I got some!!" He's good stuff.
The Viking
The littlest freak, but as we all have been conditioned to believe, size isn't everything! Gestated in despair and fury, and born into a fractured family, The Viking is the miracle that pulled us all back into a synchronized orbit. He is the fourth and final member of our weird and wonderful club.
Quotes: "Mine!"
"Yaaaarrrrr!"
"Wal-Mart. Cars."
The Viking loves cars, trucks, motorcylcles and..... are you ready? Butterflies. He's good stuff, too.
Upon cracking an eye open each morning he asks for his brother...
Having ceded the sippy cup/living room battle to me, he leaves the cup in the dog's water dish now before heading into the living room. (Not playing in the water dish has been the second largest battle we've had this summer)
The Viking loves his "bip" (pacifier) and my toes. It is not uncommon for me to feel sticky fingers wrap around my big toe as I stand at the sink doing dishes.
The final, but sort of absent freak in this line up is the Daddy Freak...
So far he has a recurring cameo in the blog but in the side show we like to call our life, he is a major player. I feel like a blog about married life is just a whole other ball of wax and although he takes center stage for the boys and I, he'll probably remain in his preferred location - the background. Painfully shy and quiet, he doesn't require or even like the same sort of attention I do. My brash and brutally honest personality is just one of the many things he adores about me, but he will waste no time in telling me, and anyone else that he is easily and often embarrassed by me. I could blog forever about marital gripes, but who couldn't?
He loves cars and tattoos and heavy metal music and digs mouthy chics with pretty eyes. His talents are many and varied, but like mine... none of them seem to generate income. He is the master pancake-maker in our house and cooks bacon perfectly. Every time. He makes me chocolate covered strawberries and has been known to break a sweat to give me a great pedicure.
Quotes: "I forgot."
"Why is the gas light always on when I get into your car to go somewhere?"
"Huh?"
It has taken longer to write this bio because it's been difficult to come up with a "Circus" moniker that's appropriate for him. "Hubby" is just too cutesy in a way that totally belies the reality of marriage, if you ask me. So that doesn't really fit for us. Living with him is like having three children. For example, I texted him a message around 11:00 (we do this through the night while he's at work - helps us stay connected) and asked what he wanted his blog alias to be. I received the following texts,
11:15 - Stinkfinger McGoo
12:30 - Captain Crusty Butt
12:32 - Booger La Phlegm
sigh... A lesbian lifestyle is an intriguing idea some days...
