Mothering Mayhem: Life with the Wild Boys

  Hola Wild Boy friends and family! I know, you're all in shock. It's only been a week and here I am again...what's next? End times? Maybe. Gav told Gabe yesterday that the Rapture was imminent because Gabe took a pack of fruit snacks without asking, and those kids are way more religiously savvy than I am, so I suppose the end of the world may be at hand.  But that's not why I'm back. Mainly I'm back because blogging seems SO MUCH MORE FUN then laundry, and those are my choices this afternoon. I got to thinking, and not just based on my children citing Revelations to frighten one another, that sometimes my kids just aren't like normal kids.  Now, part of this is my fault I know. Because from the days they were born I refused to indulge in baby talk. I loathe it, and so the Cop and I always talked to them as tiny humans in full sentences.  This immediately backfired because they started talking back in full sentences, and before preschool were already ...

Hola Wild Boy friends and family! Welcome back to another tour through the horror that is parenting my wild children. It's been a while, and I'd like to be able to tell you that's because they've done nothing remarkable whatsoever. But in truth I've just been horribly lazy. That's only part true. See, we're trying this new parenting thing where we make the children be responsible for their own belongings and accountable for their own actions. They also have to do things like chores, because the cop swears they ARE, in fact, capable of being productive members of this family.  The corresponding trauma on my part in having to let go of  my helicopter mom tendencies and set aside my OCD to accept their definition of "clean" has resulted in me spending large amounts of time drinking just enough to not care. How much is that, you ask? I haven't actually reached the amount yet, and am considering just resorting to rubbing alcohol to lose my sight e...