In the beginning there was a family...

Ok, so I’m new to this blogging thing. I never pictured myself doing something like this, but thanks to a pain in my a**, I mean great friend of mine, Claire, here I am… She seems to think that I’m crazy, uh funny, we’ll see…

So, I guess a little history for this first post would be appropriate…here we go…

I am a military wife and mother of four (I suppose the husband doesn’t count) three monsters, uh, lovely children, all boys. Two of which are special needs. My youngest monster, I mean child, has a very rare disease called Prune Belly Syndrome. His name is Meryck and he is 4 years old. He is missing some of his stomach muscles, does not feel his bladder, had one kidney fail and the other is failing as well. Doctor’s appointments are four hours away and we go bi-monthly. Even with all this going on with him, he is the most loving, cuddly, caring monster child I have ever seen. I call him my little cling-on because that is exactly how he is with me. As an example, when we wait on the porch for Kyle (his brother) to get off the bus, Meryck will hide behind me clinging on to my legs thinking that Kyle will not see him. Now, let me tell you that I am a whole 100 pounds soaking wet, and if the wind blew hard enough, I would blow away. I could pretty much turn sideways and disappear, so how this young one could believe that standing behind me would in any way provide an adequate hiding spot is beyond me.

My middle child, Kyle, who is 6 years old, has a high functioning autism. If anyone is a hoot, it is him. He is extremely intelligent and some of the things that come out of his mouth just floor me. One of my favorite things to do to him is when he asks if he can do something and it is not the appropriate time, I tell him “Sorry Charlie.” Without fail, in a frustrated tone, Kyle will look at me and tell me as-a-matter-of-factly that his name is not Charlie, his name is Kyle. Oh, and one night, at about 2:00 in the morning, Kyle, who had been sound asleep, came downstairs to inform me that he needed a “midnight snack.” A midnight snack??? Are you kidding me??? We don’t use that phrase in our home so I asked where he learned it from and his response was that he learned it from Chowder earlier that day. (For those of you that don’t know, Chowder is a cartoon.)

My oldest child, Tim, is a teenager. Oh the joy of owning, uh, parenting a teenager. He is pretty typical as far as teenagers go. You know, the whole world revolves around me; I am all that matters, me, me, me, “Emo” without the problems, kind of teenager. I’ve allowed him to dye his hair black; he MUST have his bangs cover one eye. He’s the smart stupid kind. This monster child will find a loophole for EVERYTHING, so I must be very careful how I tell him to do things. Like, “Please wash the dishes Tim.” What will he do….he will open the dishwasher and without turning on the faucet, begin to load the dishwasher with food stuck on the plates and utensils, then turn the dishwasher on. Then doesn’t understand why the dishes aren’t clean when it’s time to put them away. He is pretty good in the intelligence department, only he chooses not to apply himself. In other words, he has a bad case of the L-A-Z-Y’s. He’s been grounded off the computer for a year because of grades. Yes, I said a whole year! I know, I know…what an awful parent that makes me, but hey, when it comes to teens and you want something from them, hit them where it hurts to get what you want. Any other way isn’t effective (at least not with mine, and I have tried!!).

My fourth child, I mean my husband is in the military. He takes good care of us and I love him dearly. That’s all I have to say about that subject (at least for right now).

Oh, yeah, and me, I almost forgot…. I am a domestic engineer. The end.

I promise to get the hang of this blogging thing and will be a lot funnier (I hope). I just wanted to introduce myself, no I mean my family so that there is a little history established…

More to come…