Screw the gold star...I get a platinum star!

Yeah Yeah Yeah, I suck at blogging consistently, but this one's a good one. A USEFUL one. And I'm sure I'll get in trouble somehow for not crediting people appropriately. :/

So this past week I tried a recipe I had found on pinterest. I know! I actually pinned it, AND made it.  And it was A.W.E.S.O.M.E.  I made the crockpot chicken tacos (from this chick...http://mychocolatetherapy.blogspot.com/2012/01/crockpot-chicken-tacos.html)  with three chicken breasts, a jar of homemade salsa (Thank you Elizabeth Kirkwood!), and what might have been the equivalent of a taco seasoning packet.  It cooked all day, then  shredded the chicken in the juice thinking there was just too much for this to work (there wasn't,it was perfect) and made the soft tacos 30-45 loud Gunner-screaming minutes later.  All three kids ate it!  But I had a TON leftover. So we had leftovers two days later. Still good!  Then the next day I tried another pinterest-discovered recipe (I'm on a roll!!), the Chicken Roll Ups (find it here!  http://jennasjourneyblog.blogspot.com/2010/09/chicken-roll-ups.html) but instead of making more chicken, I chopped up my leftover chicken taco meat and threw it in.  Again the kids loved it! They didn't even know it was the same food and I didn't have to hear the inevitable "again?!" from Skylar or the ear-drum-bursting "not again!" from Gunner.  I made 8 of them I believe, however many crescent rolls are in a tube, but I had some filling left over still! It was like the meat that just wouldn't quit! Surprising since it was from only 3 boneless skinless chicken breasts!  So you know what this culinary genius did? (lmao....genius might be a little bit of a stretch). I took the leftover tortillas from the soft taco night, spread the leftover chicken roll up filling, and made.....wait for it.......southwestern chicken tortilla roll-ups!  And let me say again, they were SO good!  THEN I was inspired. I smeared it between to lightly buttered tortillas and threw it on the pizza stone with the crescent roll roll-ups and made a quesadilla. Success!

Here's why I feel like a culinary genius....or atleast like I might be in the normal range of cook-smarts now.  I used an estimated $4 worth of chicken breasts in three meals to feed myself, a 9 y/o piggy, a 4 y/o banshee, and a 14 month old princess.  Adding in the things I had to actually buy for these meals (chicken, cheese, tortillas, crescent rolls, cream cheese) and not the staples I already had on hand (salsa, ranch seasoning, taco seasoning, salt pepper, lettuce), I made THREE meals for less than $15.  Screw the gold star this week. I get a platinum star!

Dear Sausages

I've been working out at the YMCA for a while now and as the seasons change so does the clientele.  The summer was the best b/c early in the morning (I'm talking like 9 am) there weren't many people there and those that were there were usually considerably older than me.  Well now the place is a damn sausage factory, and has prompted the following letter:

Dear Sausages,

I believe if you are going to work out in a co-ed environment there are several rules you should follow and things you should be aware of....

1.  I don't need your help. If I did I would ask (someone other than you).
2.  I can see your eyes in the mirror and I'm pretty sure they weren't looking at
     you. If I want your attention I will make sure I get it, but I don't so stop
     looking.
3.  Your clothes are horrid.  Here's some guidance for you:
     3.a.  No bandanas down over your eyes Guido.  You're going to trip and
             how cool will you look
             then?
     3.b.  Pull up your pants. This isn't a prison and I don't want to make you my
             bitch. Save that for the locker room.
     3.c. No sweatpants. Ever. Never.  Period.
4.  Get out of the way. I don't want to have to weave in and out of the sausage
     fest. 
5.  The towels are there for a reason. Wipe the sweat off of you. And while
     you're at it, put on deodorant.
6.  It's a gym. I know you are working out. I don't want to hear you grunt and
     moan. It's not sexy. And careful, a passing moose might think you are in
     heat.
7.  Put the weights back to a normal load.  I'm pretty sure you didn't really just
     chest press 200 pounds fatty. Stop moving the weight before you get off
     the machine. It makes you look more pathetic than your sweat
     pants do (review 3.c. again).
8.  Don't follow me.  Don't sit by me. Don't watch me.  I have no idea what I
     am doing, but I do know moving straight down the line of machines is not
     the most effective way to work out. So when you move right along behind
     me on the machines, I know what you are doing.
9.  Seriously, go away.  See that big shiny sparkly thing on my finger. It's a
     wedding ring. If I wanted to pick up a guy I wouldn't be married, it wouldn't
     be here, and it wouldn't be you. I wear the ring while working
     out for a reason, take the hint.
10. Quit talking so loud. I don't give a shit what you say you did last night or l
      last weekend.  You're lying anyway. You stayed home playing Sorry with
      your mommy--we both know the truth.
11. Back to the clothes thing, if your shirt has less material than my panties,
      get a new shirt.  I don't want to see your chest, or stomach. I don't show
      you mine. Don't show me yours.  And FYI, I know you think you look like a
      God and all...well I guess you do, Narcissus.  (psssttt...it's from Greek
      mythology, google it).
12. If your clothing doesn't cover the hair that covers your Hobbit body, do
      something about it.  Get bigger clothes, get a razor, or just get waxed
      tough guy.

Sincerely,

Jill

It's called the Spawn of Helmer for a reason!

If there was anyone out there wondering why this blog is called the spawn of Helmer when I didn't really blog about the kids, well here it is. They have been relatively calm lately. For Helmers anyway. Until today.

I should have known something was going to happen today. The day started with Gunner's teacher raving about him, his manners, his classroom etiquette, and his ability to focus (yes focus). I stood there staring at her, half smiling, waiting for the punch line. When it didn't come and I realized she was waiting for a response I quickly looked around to see just who she was talking to and what kid she was talking about.  Yeah, I was the only one there. And then I looked at Gunner. He is standing on 'the carpet' (it's this big old rug where the kids are to stay during reading time and I'm sure other random times of the day), his big blue eyes staring up at me, HOLDING STILL.  This kid never holds still. He twitches if I try to make him hold still and eventually he physically explodes, which usually only takes 30 seconds.  Well there he was standing in one place pretty much looking like an angel when I noticed the awkward silence again and I'm pretty sure I thanked his teacher and had a stupid confused look on my face. Atleast I hope I thanked her.  Then I blurted out, "I sure didn't expect this from him!" Oops.  It made sense in my head. And it would have made sense to her had she been through the "real" Gunner experience.  The one that started with him sleeping all night for several months as a baby, and then starting at 6 months getting up anywhere from 2-10 times a night. Screaming, I mean blood curdling screaming, fits over God only knows what that still occur at age 4! The Gunner experience that I had when he punched me in the face. Or when he was swinging from the curtains in his bedroom and skinned his nose on his bed frame when the curtain rod broke.  Or the experience I just had with him tonight...

We had a busy day. School/Mother's Day Out.  YMCA for my workout class from 430-530. Skylar's basketball practice from 630-730. And instead of driving all the way home to eat dinner, I took them out to eat.  We actually went INSIDE to eat.  Gunner was in a twitching mood and his mouth was running faster than his body, brain, and a NASCAR racer.  So skip forward, after we get home from all that I fed them yet again and sent the boys in to brush their teeth.  Gunner flopped on the floor, let out a scream higher pitched than Michael Jackson could have, and I think he was saying, "I don't want to go to bed!"  I tried to explain that I told him to go brush his teeth. Of course he couldn't hear me. Then single mommy frustrations came out and I picked him up and told him to go brush his teeth or I was whooping his butt.  He went, but was oh-so-pissed.  That angelic look he gave me from 'the carpet' at school that morning was gone. So very gone.  Instead the spawn of Helmer was in full effect.  It took them 15 minutes to brush their teeth, and then it was 8:40 pm and time for them to get in bed so mommy could have her glass(-es) of wine, and put Ava to sleep.  So when I told him it was time to tell the girls goodnight and go to bed, again he flopped on the floor screaming like Mariah Carey that he didn't want to go to bed.  I asked him to get up, told him to get up, demanded he get up, and then yanked him up, told him he was getting a spanking and to get in the kitchen.  He jumped around like a freak screaming and telling me no. I told him he was getting two, he said no he wanted one, I said OK, you can have one spanking twice and he went for that one.   when I finished spanking his loud, whiney, complaining butt, he turned around, looked at me, and then stuck his tongue out and started doing that thing where they are spitting and blowing air out of their mouth.  I mean how do you really describe that!? OMGunner. I actually got kindof calm at this point, when is when Skylar has learned to start swearing it will never happen again, and he is sorry, and loves me. Gunner hasn't learned this yet.  I took him to my bathroom, grabbed a bar of soap (Melaleuca...all natural so don't go all DHS on me!) and told him to open his mouth b/c naughty mouths needed to be cleaned.  He screamed and covered his mouth and violently shook his head NO NO NO.  Well the mouth got opened and then the genius scraped his teeth across the bar of soap, not once but TWICE. Geez.  I tried to get the soap off, and he was screaming and started to cough. Well I knew from the "Gunner just drank the bath and body works shower gel" incident that meant he was about to puke.  Sure enough. But in the toilet (yay mom!).  Now this kid is so dramatic that he doesn't just puke.  He sticks his head completely in the toilet, leans forward and lifts one leg backward into the air. No lie. And then heaves so loudly you can hear him across the house. I was laughing so hard and he was so not amused.  So then I got to clean thick layers of soap off of his teeth for the next 15 minutes. And puke off my toilet seat.  It was a two glasses of wine kindof night.  The positive in all this: "Gunner are you ever going to stick your tongue out at mommy again?", Gunner says "NO mommy!". I think he meant it.

And that my friends, was a summary of Gunner's first experience with bar soap in his mouth. The BBW shower gel incident, was on his own accord.  And I guarantee he'll never do that again either.

You should never EVER say this to a deployed spouse....

Sometimes things in life deserve to be RED. This is one of them. I'm going to offer some sage advice here....and if you choose not to follow it, well that's our own damn fault! If you make this mistake and end up with part of your ass missing, I will giggle at you and say those horrible words "I TOLD YOU!"  

I had a text conversation with a friend today, and fellow 45th wife, which brought back memories of a conversation I once had with a woman who's English was about as good as my Swahili.  I had called AT&T about their wonderful *cough cough* internet service and ended up on the phone with a lady claiming to have some typical American name, like Sally or something, who definitely was not.  After going round and round and telling her, "I don't know what you are saying!!" I finally understood my internet was not going to be fixed for several days. I tried to explain to her that was not going to be acceptable and she kept chanting the same response, probably read off of her computer screen, to me....she is sorry for any inconvenience. she is sorry for any inconvenience. (I think anyway, refer back to my earlier comment about her English being as good as my Swahili).  This was all after being on hold for about 30 minutes total, and dealing with the three spawn of Helmer. My mood was freaking awesome!  I point all this out as a way to excuse my upcoming behavior...  I started to explain to her that my husband was deployed, and I knew she could hear that I had "multiple children" as they wouldn't shut up for 2 minutes so I could try to talk to her, and finally that the computer was the only communication I had with him, so they needed to get it fixed right now b/c it was their issue and not mine.  Then she said it. Those words that you never EVER (seriously, E.V.E.R.) say to a spouse of a deployed soldier (or airman, Seaman, Marine, or whomever else I forgot).  Here it is......"I understand".  Oh hell no, she didn't!  That seriously ran through my mind, and quite possibly out my mouth.  The next couple minutes is a blur. I remember yelling at her in a way that made the two male spawn stop and stare, and saying the words "no you don't fucking understand" and "do you have a husband in a war zone" and something to the effect of "do you even have a husband at all?!"  There was more.   A lot more.  And I'm pretty sure she was in tears when I was done with her.  I did thank her for helping me though before I slammed the phone down on her.  Well, that's kindof a lie. What I actually said was something like, thank you for wasting my time and cutting off my communication with my husband.  I'm probably blacklisted now.  But, I am pretty sure if that lady has half a brain, she will never say "I understand" again.  It took me a while to calm down from that. The boys were super quiet after that rant to the poor lady on the phone, and neither of them chose to repeat the words that streamed from my mouth. Smart boys! 

Which brings me to my friend's conversation, which oddly enough was also with an AT&T company (ha!).  She was informed that the person she was talking to "understood". Hopefully that man took all that 'understanding' and applied it to the earful he got, and in turn applied that lesson to the rest of his life. 

Moral of the story. Never tell someone else you "understand" b/c you don't. Everyone's experiences are different.  If you have not ever been married to the military...FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Don't tell a spouse of a deployed soldier that you understand what they are going through. Or criticize them for the way they are handling it (unless they are screwing around and cheating on their soldier, then criticize away!).  And if you are a spouse of a deployed soldier DO NOT tell a mom of a deployed soldier that you 'understand' what they are going through, especially if it's your mother-in-law b/c that probably isn't going to turn out good for you...and vice versa there moms.

Now that I've advised what not to say, perhaps I'll be helpful and give alternative responses:

• I imagine that would be hard
• I bet that is difficult
• I don't understand what you are going through, but would like to help you
• You are a strong person, let's discuss some options
• God Bless You (careful, this could go either way. and you always run the risk of being sued for "pushing" your religion on someone)
• I admire your courage

And if all else fails:

• You're pretty. 
• Have you lost weight?
• You look so young! Are you sure you're old enough to be married?

Now that I have continued to make the world a better place with yet another post, I will leave with one other tidbit of info....turned out the problem I had with the internet I discussed above and ripped that lady a new bunghole about, was on my end.  Yep. My router was dead. I just had to unplug the big yellow cable out of the router and plug it straight into my modem.  I thought about calling and apologizing for yelling at her, but that thought passed pretty quick. 

And so it begins...

I've thought for several months now, the world would be a better place if I started a blog....so here it is.  I've used FaceBook as an outlet for the varying antics of my three kids, Gunner/Helmer House quotes of the day, and public rants to my husband about how he left me with his spawn (this is how the Spawn of Helmer moniker was born) while he took a 12 month all-expenses paid vacation to Afghanistan courtesey of the world's worst travel agent, the US Army. But it's time to branch out...and it has nothing to do with the fact that the new 'timeline' format has confused the shit out of me.

So here you are, reading my blog...guess I should throw out some disclaimers. 

• Do I cuss? Abso-flipping-lutely. 
• Do I think, say, and typically type inappropriate things?  Yep. Yep. Yep.  I have a dry sense of humor that sometimes only my mother can understand. My father says we are twisted.  
• Do I complain about my children? Yeppers again. 
• Don't take my ranting about my children, or my references to them as 'the Spawn' as a sign that I am an ungrateful parent.  It's therapeutic. I should know. ;)  Oh yeah, piece of info #134, I'm a licensed master level psychologist in the state of Kansas. 
• Does that mean I will offer you therapeutic advice through my blog? Hell no. 
• Does that mean that I am perfect in my real life? Of course it does. Refer to disclaimer above "Do I think, say, and typically type inappropriate things".
• And here's a good one....will I ever discuss, refer to, or complain about/make fun of a patient.  Nope. Never. Not gonna happen. 
• And I'll say again. Nope.  If you want some therapeutic discussions, go find Dr. Phil.
•  Could consistent reading of my blog leave you thinking, this bitch is crazy!  Possibly. I have a little ADD going on, on top of three kids and an absent husband.  My posts could be all over the place. Let me add right now...I'm not bipolar. or schizophrenic. or borderline.  I'm a spouse of a deployed servicemember.  Same symptoms, different names. And no good meds.

So here's some about me that hasn't already been explained above, or maybe it has. I live in Oklahoma on an Air Force Base.  I'm sure living on an Air Force Base is excellent, for Air Force people.  I had a lady on base tell me she was sorry when I told her we were Army.  Seriously.  I'll just let that one go for now. I'm "in my thirties" and yes it hurt to say that.  What gets me through is my husband and brother will always be older than me (they are both almost 40...ha!). I commute to Kansas to work.  Yes I'm aware it's a long drive. My husband is deployed. We are in our 10th month of the 12 month deployment. This is our third overseas deployment, we also have three kids.  Coincidence? My husband says so; he denies volunteering--I'm not so sure.  Everytime a new spawn is conceived the 45th gets deployed.  I say it's time for a vasectomy...if not for me, do it for your country (I bet he's rolling his eyes right now. I love you!). And speaking of the kids, there's Skylar who's 9. The infamous Gunner who's 4.  And the beautiful Baby Ava, who's 1 and the only girl. She is spoiled freaking rotten and can hold her own as much as the 4 y/o.  Skylar is quite possibly the most normal of the brood. Which is scary.  And there's the dog, Bo who does his best to stay out of all the craziness.  I have hobbies.  Like Facebook. And the newly found Pinterest. I am in LOVE with pinterest. An online place where I can plan a wedding that's never going to happen, decorate the nursery of future babies that will never happen, and pin recipes I don't have a shot in hell at making b/c I suck at cooking but pinning them will make people think I am THAT good in the kitchen, is alright by me!  I like to play around with digital scrapbooking. And in the last few months I have developed a love of wine. Mostly because it's more socially acceptable for a woman home alone with three kids to have a glass of wine than a glass of vodka, or moonshine. And on that note I'll end my first ever blog. And now the world is a better place.