I am not a drug dealer.

How child care and drug dealing is similar. 

Beware this post is in fun- I do not mean to arise suspicion that I may actually deal drugs. This is just meant to poke fun at the fact that it may appear that I am dealing drugs out of my home rather than providing child care. So below is a light hearted comparison.   If you may become offended please stop now. 

  1. I have odd clientele coming and going all hours of day and night. I once took a class on how recognize drug usage (as part of my continuing ed classes for childcare) and the main thing to watch for to identify if someone is dealing drugs from their home is odd “clients” coming all hours of day and night. Well, dear neighbors of mine, although it may look like it I am NOT dealing drugs. I totally have some odd characters coming and going. ALL THE TIME. But I am not dealing drugs. I promise. 

2     2.    I carry a prepaid phone. A criminal may carry a prepaid phone because it makes their calls more difficult to trace (or so CSI tells me) But I am not worried about someone tracing my calls. Heck, you could strap a gps on me and tracking me would be BORING. Because I spend 89% of my time in one room and the other 11% of time in a one mile radius of that room. Any moms out their want to guess what room I live in? Nope dad’s, I do not live in the living room- that’s just an indoor jungle gym for kids complete with trampoline- I mean couch. That’s right mom’s I LIVE in the kitchen. I mean what is with people needing fed every single day! And multiple times a day. What a time drain. No. Tracking me is not my fear. Nope. I have a prepaid phone because I am poor. Really poor. 

      3. I am poor. Did I mention that I am poor? I watched a documentary about drug dealers a few years ago and the average drug dealer makes about as much in a year as if they worked full time at McDonalds. I’m a little jealous. I once broke down how much I make hourly. Then I crawled into a fetal position and cried and refused to come out for a week. OK I fib. I came out after an hour but I wanted to rock and cry for weeks. Fun Fact: I would make more hourly if I was a crummy waitress and never got tips. $4 per hr is looking pretty sweet over here. And that is before you figure in the cost of watching kids like food, supplies, increased utilities bills, ridiculous home “repairs” required by licensing, continuing education and 12000 cartridges of ink and reams upon reams of paper to do the “paperless” billing. Another Fun Fact: my business shows at a complete and utter loss on my taxes. Every. Single. Year.  The only redeeming thing about my income is that I work A LOT. Like 24-7. Which means that if you figure all that in I might be close to a burger flipper’s income (or a drug dealers income). Maybe. Probably not. 

  
       4.. I have a grave yard in my back yard. Only, unlike some stereotypical criminals mine doesn’t have any corpses. It’s just there to make my neighbors uncomfortable. OK the kids built it. I’m not the criminal. I’m just raising them.

        5.    I live in a frat house. OK so this may not apply to a crack house as the closest I have ever been is watching absolutely false TV crime shows. But it may apply. I have darts in my kitchen. When I walk into the bath room and find someone standing on the sink in a, ahem, compromising position I just close the door and find an unoccupied bathroom.  I added this because sometimes it seems that I am the only one in the house with full mental sobriety.  Darn that Oreo high. We need a 12 step program for kids and sugar. Oh yeah. That’s called parenting. Darn.

     6     People call me “tweaking” and begging for a “fix” all the time. OK I am a parent and I have totally done the weird call to a babysitter before sounding like a desperate addict on withdrawal. Please please please please let me get out tonight. I need a fix. NOW.

So just in case you were wondering: I am not a drug dealer. I am the little old lady in the shoe.

How to wash dishes at my house (and Larry intro)

I get to do dishes often at my house. Here are some pictures of my awesome "helpers."

First I load the dish washer and my "pre-wash helpers" begin the pre-wash.

 Then on of the helpers swipes a spatula. 

 
Retrieve spatula from thief.

 Turn around to find pup in my dish washer. 
Remove all canines from dishwasher and start.
Repeat 3-4 times daily. 

Here are some (not- dish related) pictures of our newest addition. 

The big black dog is Moe. He is a 3 yr old lab mix.  Moe ate EVERYTHING as a puppy. He ate my deck (Big chunks of it at least) He ate a tree. Really (Ok an over sized sapling but still...) He ate a tree stump- all of it. I vowed to never get a puppy again. SO.... As you can see that didn't last.

Meet Larry.

Larry is a 9 week old mutt. The vet is guessing Airedale terrier and lab. Either way he will be big.  :)

Our 6 yr old helped name the puppy. He really likes the 3 stooges. :)So now we have a Moe and Larry.  My dish pre washers. 

 

Halloween Thank you

I wanted to give our neighbors a little thank you. We have some awesome neighbors! So I altered the traditional trick or treat rhyme and came up with this. The kids will decorate the page and we will give it with a plate of cookies.

Happy Halloween!!!!

Trick or Treat

Don’t miss a beat

Here is Something Good to eat!

WE wanted to say

That we care

We hope this THANK YOU was not a scare!!

 

I hope you all have a fun and safe Halloween!!!!

Orange

On Friday my older brother, Luke, flew out to Afghanistan. I was having kind of a blue day. In an effort to battle the blues I painted orange. Here are some pictures. 

Seeing the color in the tray can be a little shocking.

 But I love it on the wall!

This is little man under the kid table. You can see the wall behind him 

This is the living room. I left all the other walls the light butter yellow. Shane thinks the color is pumpkin. So I cut out a jack o lantern and taped it to the wall. I don’t think it is pumpkin. It’s a cross between melon and sunrise orange. But we will just call it orange :)

 

 

Fairy tale comparison

About 1 ½ years ago I made a life defining purchase. Most purchases that can be seen as “defining” are usually the big ticket items like a house. The type of thing that makes you stop and think “wow, I have a…” But mine is not a house. It is a triple stroller.

Yes, they actually do make them. 

I just was really weird to accept that I needed special equipment to survive the day. It accentuated my oddity. :)

Today I walked the kiddo’s to school. On the return trip I had a 1 ½ yr old, an almost 2 yr old, a 2 ½ yr old and three 4 yr olds. Yep me and 6. I had the 3 little ones in the stroller, but the older kiddo’s were getting tired so I decided to let them take turns ridding with the little one in the back seat. Long story short, I ended up with 6 little butts in a triple stroller. Man alive, was that Heavy!! 

As I was sweating through my unusual cardio, I had an odd realization. This is what the little old lady who lived in a shoe would look like.