My Crazy Family
I have a crazy family – unless we’ve determined taste testing one’s own urine is normal. Then, phew, we’re normal. They keep me busy, entertained, and often frustrated. Plus, someone always needs fed. I love my crazy family and I laugh at them, with them, and for them every day. I wouldn’t trade most of them.
I don’t think I could handle my crazy family without this guy. Craig is my current husband and a good sport when I remind him that he is the best husband I’ve had so far. He is the perfect Ricky to my Lucy and his gifts are on par with Fred Flinstone. This gem from our 10th anniversary still makes me swoon. We have been married for 11 years and have two crazy children together. He has also been the best dad to our oldest daughter Sophie since she was 2. They have a very special relationship that involves sharing make-up tips, their love of Spanish, and ganging up on me.
Craig is patient with my disdain for laundry mountain, my inability to turn off a light, and will usually be the first to wave the white flag in surrender for the sake of familial harmony. He is also very supportive when it comes to my female friendships, moms night out, and need for girls weekends.
My daughter Sophie, who is the most level headed of the bunch, just started high school. Her seriousness used to bother me because I didn’t understand where it came from. During her adolescence she looked so much like Rat Bastard I thought about smothering her with a pillow when she was peacefully sleeping (<—–kidding). Though a member of my extended crazy family *may* have done prison time with Diane Downs (<—-not kidding), she has blossomed into young adulthood unharmed.
The changes the past few years have been huge and I know the next few years will be huge. Driving, dating, COLLEGE…. Hold me because I’m not ready.
For the first few years of this mom blog, I left her alone because she was my sensitive child. Even when she was very small, she couldn’t stand to have anyone laugh at her. Having always fallen back on my sense of humor, especially in stressful situations (because what is more stressful than parenting?), sometimes we have a difficult time communicating.
As she has gotten older, she has relaxed a little. I also check with her before I post anything that might potentially embarrass her. Though I maintain this as a humor blog, I would never humiliate anyone intentionally. Even my crazy family.
Maren is my Rat Kid, Pig Pen, Ramona Quimby Clone, and high maintenance kid. The girl doesn’t have a pair of tights that she has worn more than once. We have been able to clean her up when she rocked The Kate and another time for the Father-Daughter Dance, but mostly she is comfortable getting scrappy.
She is my rough and tumble middle child who came out screaming so we knew she was there. Maren is pint size and weighs in at less than her brother who is almost 3 years younger. Size is not a limitation. Except when you’re in a pool and your mom isn’t watching you. Which also happens to be my worst parenting moment.
Sometimes she is my favorite. A lot of times I want to throw her across the room (but I’ll settle for mutilating a Barbie) because she is so headstrong. When she isn’t fighting with her sister, she is suspiciously around, yet unscathed when my accident prone youngest pulls a crazy stunt. Manipulative as Maren may be, I’m still a step ahead. I think.
This is Hank, my youngest, who does shit like this all the time. Though this is an old picture, it is still one of my very favorites. Whether or not removing his mohawk by way of scalping was his idea or not, I’ll never know. Like King Stefan and King Leah removed all the spinning wheels in the kingdom to protect poor Aurora from her fate, all duct tape and matches were removed from our house upon Hank’s 2nd birthday.
Generally his pranks are benign as no poultry was injured when this photo was taken.
But oh my dear sweet, Hank. The baby who is not a baby any more, but still mangages to shock us on the daily. Somehow drinking out of the toilet bowl at 3 was funnier than urine sampling at 5. Still, this kid brings me so much joy. Even though he is at school all day and has a slight crush on his teacher, I’m still his number one love. I am confident he will follow through with his promise to only marry a partner (we’re liberal) that I approve of and live with me forever.
I am so not a dog person, but Finley has lived in our house for 4 years so I guess I have to admit he is also part of our family. I actually kind of like him. He’s not bad as far as dogs go. I’m still a little bitter about the one time he shit all over my car, but the kids seem to like him so I guess he can stay.
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