Back in the day, pre-divorce, when all she did was run around looking haggard with that horrid reverse mullet hairdo, Kate Gosselin made ME feel better about my life.  People often told me that I reminded them of her, and I’m assuming that was because I have 5 young kids and not because I’m a masculinity robbing, bitch.

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I know that I have made other people feel better about their own lives, the women who would see me schlepping all my kids through Costco or the doctors office, and say to me they don’t know how I do it, but if I can do it, they certainly must be able to, with their one or two children.  Honestly, I’m glad that I can make people feel better.  Think of me before you complain about taking your 2 kids to McDonalds or the grocery store, no problem.

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But I miss Kate Gosselin and her cute, squealing brood.  I miss the nasty facial expressions that even made ME recoil from the television, and her rude comments to her long suffering, demasculinated husband.  I felt good watching her show.  She made me feel better.

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Then her stupid husband had to find his long ago discarded courage and decide that he couldn’t take it any more and wanted a divorce.  How could he do that to me?

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Now that the show is off the air, who do I have to make me feel better?  Octo-mom?  I think not….(Sigh) I miss Kate…

I heard screaming coming from outside yesterday and knew that something bad had happened.  There is screaming, and then there is SCREAMING, you know?

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I heard my hubby’s voice saying ‘You’re ok, you’re ok buddy, sit here, you’re ok.’

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Then I heard ‘Whoa!  Let’s go in the house, come on, let’s go, quick…’

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The screaming kept on.  I decided to let hubby handle it, as normally I would rush to intervene and he would lose his nursing opportunity and quickly escape.

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When Gregory finally came to see me, where I had been resting with a headache, he had ice on the bridge of his tiny little nose.  I was afraid to look.

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All I knew was that he had been playing hockey on the driveway with his big brothers, and took a hockey stick to the face.  Considering that he is five years old and his brothers play hockey constantly outside, we are lucky that this hadn’t happened sooner.

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After some prompting he moved the icepack so I could take a peek.  The bridge of his nose, right between his eyes was swollen to three times its normal size and there was a deep purple, diagonal line going across his forehead down between his eyes.

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By bedtime, it was looking better and his eye was not turning black.  Even so, his brothers and sisters were very impressed with his injury…There’s nothing like an injury to raise your status in our household.  Gregory looks a tough guy now, and no one has called him Mr.Mama since.

Do your kids ever release gas at inappropriate moments?

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Like, when you are in a crowded elevator, or in an empty one that opens to admit 5 more people, after the deed is done?  Or while waiting for the dentist in the reclining chair? Or, how about at church?

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It’s bad enough when it happens in the car, in the winter, with the windows up.

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But do your kids fart whenever they feel like it in public, and then look around with a guilty expression when you raise your eyebrows and shake your head at them?

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Nah, I didn’t think so, mine would never do that either.

My three eldest children have cajoled us into allowing them to stay up to watch American idol.

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This would be fine if they would sit quietly and watch it.  But they want to have  conversation…they want snacks… Tea even.  And they constantly ask questions throughout each performance.

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‘Is that the guy you like, Dad?’

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‘Did Simon mean that as an insult?’

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‘Is she good, Mom?’

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‘Is that her real hair?’

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So we end up missing most of each performance.  It’s annoying to say the least.  I don’t mind if they stay up to watch it, I just don’t want them to talk to me. I warn them not to.  Is that so wrong?  Evening is supposed to be adult time at our house, and they are infringing on it…

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It’s almost as bad as trying to watch ‘The Bachelor’ finale (or any chick flick) with my hubby present.  He comes in and out of the room, asking what just happened, who said what, what are they doing, where are they?  I flash him my pissy face and tell him to ‘shhhhhht!’  He pauses for a moment or two and then makes his next comment, with a grin.

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Then he starts in on the criticisms.  Noting that he cannot believe that I find this entertaining, that this show is ridiculous, that the bachelor only likes Vienna over Tenley because she is the slutty one.

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Why does he feel the need to tell me that the bachelor is favoring the slutty girl?  Men are not such complicated creatures that I need help figuring that out for myself, you know?

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This is why I prefer reading, it’s a solo activity and there is really not much of that in my life…and TV at my house is overrated anyway.