the wiener mom has turned into THAT MOM

It has happened. I have become that mom. You know the one. The mom with no control over her children in public. The mom that hisses empty threats in the grocery store. The one that looks like she hasn't slept in days, weeks, months maybe. The mom that makes you sigh in both pity and mild disgust. I have become that mom. I'd have to say that the onset of this particular condition had to have coincided with summer break. Now up from 2 wieners to 3, the initial shock was enough to slow the progression, but here it is now the end of July and I am THAT MOM.

Things that used to be remotely possible with 3 wieners have become 100% impossible with 2.
Example: grocery shopping.
Grocery shopping was no fun, but doable. Shove a donut in a wiener's face and you've got at least 30 minutes of peace. Yea, yea, I know. What about a bag of Cheerios? How about some delicious apple slices? Nothing shuts a wiener up like a donut. with frosting. and sprinkles. (It's not me talking now, it's THAT MOM). Although I tried to avoid it, there were days during the school year where I would take 3 wieners to the grocery store after Big wiener got home from school. Doable. Not fun, mind you. A mild form of torture.

Now? Big wiener is with his reading tutor and Middle and Little and I have to get groceries. We have one hour from drop off to pick up. The list isn't too extensive. The store is 5 minutes from the tutor. Doable? hell no.

Where a donut used to last 30 minutes, now I'm lucky if I get 10. So, they're done licking the frosting and sprinkles off of the donut (maybe just a bowl of frosting and sprinkles next time...)and then they just ride nicely in the cart.

Can I get a hell no? This particular store has the most adorable and ingenious carts. On the front of each cart is a car, so wieners can "drive" themselves and the cart around the store. Fun, huh? good for like 10 minutes right? Once again, give it to me (chorus: hell no) Little wiener sees some food he wants and attempts a Dukes of Hazard style exit. Middle wiener and Little wiener can drive the car together for about 5 minutes before the shoving starts. Suddenly they're all up in each other's business and have to be seperated.

So, Little wiener takes his seat in the traditional child seat, by the handles and by the mommy. Should work out better, yea? One last time, chorus. Every piece of food that goes into the cart (PACKAGED, mind you) he wants to eat. He can't. He screeches. Now he attempts his Duke Brothers exit from about 3 feet higher in the air.

At least we're at the check out now, right? Right? No! New checker training! THAT MOM has now become THAT ORNERY WOMAN WHO CAN'T WAIT. I am now holding Little wiener in my arms, where he has somehow twisted himself into an upside down postition, so I put him down, he proceeds to get run over by the cart, driven by none other than Middle wiener (who else?) We finally pay and have purchased so many groceries that wieners must now walk or be carried. We all know how that goes. "Mr. slowest walker in the free world" and "Mr. carry me upside down if you must".

The fun has only just begun, because guess what? I forgot to purchase a third donut for Big wiener who has conveniently missed all the good times. He can see from the chocolate covered faces of his brothers that donuts (or the top layer of donuts) have been consumed. Temper tantrum ensues.
Here's the best part of all, now I have to unload the groceries and put them away!

P.S. I can't even begin to describe what it's like to take all three of them to the pool. But here's a direct quote:
Old Lady who can't possibly believe that I have a effing clue what my children are doing, as Little wiener walks away: You're losing one!
The wiener mom who has mastered the corner of the eye mom-o-vision thing: Yea, I know there are just too many of them.
Old Lady: [shock]

from the mouths of wieners

The wiener mom has prepared a bowl of warm, delicious, popcorn goodness for her adorable, loving and compassionate wieners. The wiener mom decides to eat some of the shared popcorn, sure that consuming just a few kernels out of that big bowl will be no skin off anyone's back.

She is wrong.

Middle wiener says with much obvious shock and disdain, "Mom, you're wasting it!"

the wiener mom, still crazy after all these years

It's official, I have been the wiener mom for 7 years now. Seven glorious years filled with vehicles, mud and hugs. Big wiener turned 7, so much older than 6. What amazes me the most is that even after 7 years, I still don't understand them. The wieners. What makes them tick. What makes them do the things they do. What makes them obsess over things with wheels/wings/treads. This was never more apparent to me than at Big wiener's Birthday party.

We had a string of nasty viruses at our house and so Big wiener's big party had to be postponed, much to his dismay and at the obvious peril of a dozen blue frosted beach-with-shark double chocolate cupcakes not seeing the light of another day. Because of the postponement we had a smaller party than planned, as all of our original party-goers weren't able to make it. It was a good thing, because while I thought that the theme of the party was SHARKS! it was in fact WIENER FUELED CHAOS! It turns out that the decorations and party favors for the two parties are identical, it's the party games that send the party into a downward spiral of insanity.

First of all, let's just say that Big wiener is a cautious wiener. A sweet wiener. A rule-following wiener. Let's also just say that apparently there aren't that many of them around. We had 5 party guests and Big and Middle wiener. I had everything mapped out for a lovely 90 minute party, including painting individual treasure boxes to keep, eating pizza and watermelon, opening presents, singing happy birthday and eating massive blue frosted cupcakes. We had the party in the back yard, so they could also play and climb and dig if they had the time. So... it ends up that my scheduled party itenerary took all of 17.5 minutes, leaving.... much too much time for wieners to roam free.

Turns out that no one wants to eat pizza, when you can chuck things down the slide and see if they break at the bottom. It also turns out that the fun of drinking your lemonade pales in comparison to the fun of pouring down the slide and sliding down in it. Also turns out that the best party game of all (besides chucking things down the slide) is a gem called "who can throw the ball in the road?" Not even the sad, sad perish of a basketball during play could deter them from this one.

Soon they were climbing on top of the swing supports. Their shirts were off and their faces and chests were streaked with watermelon juice and blue frosting. I could hardly bear to join Daddy wiener outside. As I watched out the window it became abundantly clear, what we were dealing with was "Lord of the Flies". I half expected a wiener to run around from the backyard with a boar's head on a spear. It was madness. The maddest thing about all this madness was that I did not understand a single thing about it. This is my life. I am trapped on a deserted island with blue painted wieners in loincloths and I have no idea what to do.

Here's what I did do. I told Daddy wiener that from now on, I would do all (I mean ALL) the prep work for Birthday parties and he can be in charge of all the supervision. I'll be his aide and hide inside whenever possible. I'll watch from afar and welcome my little warriors back into the house with open arms and a washcloth.