Corley Family: Titles are for people who aren't sleep deprived

Dylan invited hubby and I to watch as the rest of the fifth graders attempted to beat the teachers in a game of softball on the last day of school. Aside from confirming that I could never be a fifth grade teacher, I sat there marveling that next year I will only have one child in elementary school. How can I be the mother of two kids in Junior High? Two kids who have full on conversations in front of me about the people that they "like like" and how next year they are not "putting up with that crap". Exactly what "crap" will not be put up with is beyond me. But I assure you. It will not be put up with.

Aliya still has two more weeks of seventh grade, much to her disdain, while her brothers party it up. And by party I mean stay up late eating goldfish crackers while playing video games in soggy swim suites.

Oh yeah. She is so missing out.

And this adorable little monster has been keeping us awake all night since we got her. Honestly, it's a good thing she's so stinking cute, it keeps us from strangling her in the middle of the night when she won't stop crying.

Izzy

Me: Ugh! Seriously! I have to get some sleep! Make her stop! *I said as I flung my pillow off my covered ears and onto the space between us*

Hubby: You make her stop! You just woke me up! *he shot back as he attempted to find a comfortable position after being woken*

Me: You were able to sleep through that?! *the shock in my voice barley restrained*

Hubby: I am not going to argue with you in the middle of the night. *his tone firm, set*

Me: Fine. Let's not argue. Go make her stop. *my tone more firm, more set*

{Or however the heck one is supposed to write dramatic dialogue, I'm just winging it here.}

That logic got me exactly no where.

So I stomp out and take one look at her and it's all hi baby girl! how's mommy's baby girl? Are you sad? Hmmm? Are you?? I'll hold you sweet baby, come here, let me hold you, don't be sad, poor thing.

Little monster I tell you. And So. Much. Poop.

Does anyone have a soap box I can borrow for just a sec? Oh here's one! Sweet. Okay cool.

Potty training a kitten: Show kitten the litter box. Scratch the litter twice with finger. Kitten sees this and immediately knows this is where to poop and pee and forever will use littler box.

Potty training a puppy: Have the eyes of a eagle, be on constant alert for "cues" that puppy will most likely pee or poop at any time, be ready to scoop up puppy at any instant and run like crazy with puppy through the house, hurdling obstacles like a marathon runner to get the puppy outside and hope it poops and pees on the grass. Use the steam cleaner a hundred times a day to clean the messes you don't make outside. Use "puppy pads" even though the puppy could care less they are there and will most likely just observe them and poop and pee next to them. Enjoy the new "puppy" smell of your house.

So to sum up.

My kids are getting too big. It makes me sad. I keep hugging them and it embarrass them in front of their friends but I don't really care because if I died tomorrow they would miss those hugs and we got a new puppy and that's giving me sleep deprivation and also lots of good reasons to talk to daughter about how a baby is way harder and don't ever, ever have a baby until you are married. And like 40.

Good times.