This, you guys. This is mom life. Right here.

Full disclosure:  I'm about to complain.  Hard.  And I totally get that I have it good (great actually) and have no reason to complain.

I had one of those days that started with not wanting to get out of the bed.  Not because I didn't want to go to work.  I love my job.  I work way more than 40 hours a week at an out of the house job and I love it.   Like a crazy person.  On top of that I love being a mom and a wife and cooking and helping with homework and the whole shebang.

But here's the deal:

I woke up with the Man Cold.

The full-on slightly achy, sore(ish) throat,  dull headache, I-don't-wanna, Man Cold.

But I lugged my 75 lb eight year old out of the bed (while he was still sleeping), walked him to the couch, told him to get dressed, put clothes by his head and left the room knowing he was still sleeping, showered myself, dressed myself, dressed the boy, said "good morning" as I put his coat on one arm by one arm, repeated "backpack" three times, schlepped down to the car and drove five minutes to his school, reminded him (almost begged him) to "get a star" today (for real, I say these things now), drove three minutes to work, stopped at the far end of the parking lot to put on mascara and lipstick, pulled into my parking space and opened the car door to the blustering Oklahoma-in-February wind.

I went about my day slightly irritated for no reason in particular except that I didn't feel great.  3:30 rolled around and I was even more irritated that I was still at work.  (I get off at 5 and there is no reasonable expectation that I would get off at 3:30.)

At 5:00 all I wanted to do was go home and take a snooze.  But I knew that Peyton had a mountain of homework on top of his already scheduled president report to do and we had to go to the library to finish the report.  No snooze for me.

Sometime during the evening I found myself on the toilet (you're welcome for that) arguing with said eight year old about looking up quotes from his president.

"Go find a quote"

"I don't know how"

"Look for a sentence with quotation marks around it.  I'll be out in a minute, go look for a quote"

... somehow the kid ended up in the bathroom with me...

"Go look in the books"

"But I don't know where to look"

"Well you're not going to find it in here"

Not even slightly exaggerating, this is the actual conversation that took place in my home tonight.

F'real Life.

Did you ever post one of those Facebook posts that made you feel like such a glistening princess of a mom?  Like you have ALL your s--t together?  All of it?

I did tonight.  It was so good that I wanted to "like" it myself.  It was me and P sitting on the balcony watching a storm roll in and listening to and talking about the sounds of nature/apartment living that we heard as the sun set.

It was all true.  It actually happened on April 19, 2016.  It was actually adorable.  And I actually loved living it.

But it gives off the message that we actually live this enchanted life where evenings end with talking about crickets chirping.

We don't.

We barely did it tonight.

Tonight consisted of a VERY regimented series of playing and homework and cooking and eating.

Peyton got started on third grade homework around 3:30 pm today after some reported conflict between him and his daddy.  When he was done I believe he watched YouTube videos and Brandon studied.  Around 4:00 I received a call asking when I would be home.

I got home from work (earlier than usual) at 5:10 pm and immediately walked in and changed into "play clothes".

At 5:15 Peyton and I went outside and kicked the soccer ball for 45 minutes and Brandon went to campus to study for a test.

At 5:45 we came inside and Peyton read to me while I cooked cheeseburger casserole.

At 6:30-ish we ate said cheeseburger casserole without any vegetables.  (yep.)

At 7:00 we had family time (the kind where dad was at school studying for a test in the midst of recovering from the flu.)  Peyton and I went outside, kicked a big green ball, talked to the neighbor who was coming "home" to his corporate housing apartment (from a funeral half a country away where he just left his family), and then went for a short walk to the neighborhood playground.

On the way home from the walk Peyton entered a wave of moodiness which made him walk about 3 car lengths away from mom with a very obvious scowl on his face.  At the intersections of streets-with-parking lots I waited and walked across the street with him - clearly to his chagrin.

Then we came home and he stripped out of his clothes which he had soiled by (literally) rolling around in the muddy mulch at the playground and I bathed him because his right hand has a cast which cannot get wet.

Then we went out to the balcony that is cluttered with old trashcans (I kid you not - I have 4 old plastic waste bins that I haven't thrown away) and dead plants (3 pots worth) to bundle up in blankets and watch the lightning flash and the thunder roll until 9:00.

And it was bliss.

Peyton and I really did bundle up in blankets and he sat on my lap.  We really did talk about crickets chirping and dogs barking and frogs glerping (we decided this was the actual sound) and people talking quietly (and loudly) and the thunder rolling one... two... three.... four... five... seconds away from the lightning strikes.

It was Fan.  Tastic.

And then I put him to bed and let him sleep with the curtains open and his head at the end of the bed so he could see the lightning.

And then I got into the shower because thats the only way I can take more than a one-minute shower. (for real - I CAN do that.)  ((And then I put my makeup on in the car in the far side of the parking lot at work before driving over to my assigned spot because I can't deal with anyone I work with knowing that I didn't get up in time to put on full make up before coming in to work.))

.... I digress...

I took a "night shower" (which is so much better than a morning shower) and I took the cap off my brand new shaving cream only to have it explode like a can of Pillsbury biscuits.  (yep.  I'll be scraping that stuff off the side of the shower to shave my legs for weeks because that's a $2.98 accident.)

And this, y'all, this is my life.  Not the life-edited Facebook posts.  Just thought you should know.

It's A Squash, Y'all.

I am just so proud of myself that I have to share!!  

Some time ago I finally bit the bullet and bought a spaghetti squash.  I've heard from many trustworthy sources that it really can substitute for spaghetti.  

So I gave it a try.

I put the "spaghetti" on the meal calendar.

I pinned a recipe.

I bought a squash.

I baked it.

I scraped it.

I made my standard boy-approved spaghetti sauce.

I served it up.

And, you know what!?  

It tasted

JUST

LIKE...

..squash!

Don't get me wrong - it was good.

I did like it.  In fact I ate some for lunch again the next day.

But it was NOT spaghetti.  

And the boys were not fooled.

I had such success with my "this-ground-beef-is-actually-turkey" magic trick that I didn't have a back up meal. Somehow I didn't have any actual noodles in the cabinet and, if memory serves, we ended up having Taco Bell for dinner.  

I was told that "if you put spaghetti on the calendar you better make spaghetti."

(well trained, if I do say so myself)

Apparently our family is the only family on the internet that feels this way but, y'all...

spaghetti squash is no magical fruit.

Its a squash and it tastes like a squash.

Update

There is SO much to tell you since the last post!!!

But in a nutshell...

Allison got a new job at OU Basketball.

And QUIT OU ARCHITECTURE!!!!!!

via GIPHY

Peyton gets grades in third grade.

via GIPHY

They were FANTASTIC 1st 6-weeks.

via GIPHY

They were BAD 2nd 6-weeks.

via GIPHY

Due to said grades, Halloween was cancelled in the Anderson household.

via GIPHY

November happened &  the Thanksgiving post is forthcoming...

via GIPHY

Hellboy It Is! (Never thought I'd say that!)

As Brandon says... Winnah Winnah Chicken Dinnah!

I actually hate that he says that.

Its very annoying and I'm very irritable.

But Peyton agreed to be Hellboy tonight!!

I don't particularly like Ron Pearlman.  

(Can't forgive him as Clay Morrow)

But this little Hellboy at ComiCon is A.D.O.R.A.B.L.E.

And if I can't beat him I may as well aspire to be his mom.

JUST SO YOU KNOW

THIS IS NOT FINISHED PRODUCT

THIS IS A RUN THROUGH

NOT EVEN A PROOF!!!

But it was enough to convince Peyton that...

#1 Hellboy would be "easy". (aka quick)

#2 It's presentable.

Also he liked the red face.  

I told him that we'd do prosthetic horns for halloween and he insisted that these were fine.  

(They're not.  We'll do prosthetics.)

And here is my 8 year old boy being 8.  :)

And here is my 8 year old boy enjoying the things that are dressing up.

Didn't get pictures of this but he actually doesn't mind Almay.  

Just saying.  

Boys google "Almay".  

OK 

I know that Peyton thinks his resignation to be Hellboy 

frees him from my nightly painting of his face.  

But he's wrong.  

Now I have to perfect the sideburns and the horns and figure out how to find a 

Youth Large faux cowhide trench coat.  

Might have to make that.

Norman moms do a pretty good job at Halloween and I don't feel that I won with Olaf last year.  

Gotta redeem myself this year.

THIS. This is why you have children.

Who might have thought that Peyton's and my first real argument would be over a halloween costume?

... probably anyone reading this blog...

I knew that one day I would have to give up control of Peyton's halloween costumes but I didn't really think it would be this hard.  

full disclosure:  I HAVEN'T given up control.

Peyton decided in July that he wanted to be Five Nights at Freddy's Golden Freddy for Halloween.  Problem.  I had NO clue what that was.  But I was up for the challenge.  

THIS is Freddy

I actually didn't have a problem with dressing my son as a psychopathic animatronic bear.  

I DID have a problem figuring out how to do it.  

So this last weekend I finally broke it to Peyton that I didn't think I could pull of that costume.  It was a sad confession.  I had scoured our local stores and semi-scoured (quickly did a search) on Amazon and I really didn't find a Youth Large Golden Freddy costume or anything close to it that I could alter.

Its helpful (and by helpful I mean enabling) that my husband is on board with my costuming problem.  He was there when I tried to convince Peyton that we needed to go another route for halloween this year.  

Me:  I just don't think I can make a Five Nights at Freddy's costume that looks right.

Peyton: Thats okay.  Just try.

Brandon:  Peyton.  Your mom is going to spend a lot of hours and too much money working on this and you're going to look like a teddy bear.  Pick something else.

That's Brandon.  Just keeping it real.

So I took to the internet to find a costume that might satisfy Peyton's flair for the unusual and my need to "win" halloween.  

I suggested about every superhero I knew.

I suggested the obvious.

(Brandon told me I couldn't do Jack Sparrow.  "Everybody does Jack Sparrow.")

Nothing.

So finally I MADE him go to a costume store to get ideas.  

He did not seem to enjoy perusing fake blood and shiny wigs and a bin FULL of scythes like I expected.  

Until he found this.

Peyton:  (shoving a thick plastic bag full of brown velvet in my direction)  I want to be this!

Me:  No.  You cannot be a turd for halloween.

Sidenote: These things retail for SIXTY FIVE DOLLARS, y'all.

It was at this point that I realized that Peyton had sorely misunderstood our costume store outing.  (Also, I might have a problem on my hands.  He chose a POOP HAT.)

Me:  Peyton, we aren't here to buy a costume.

Peyton:  (blank, slightly annoyed stare) (when we tell this story in the future, we'll refer to this as the moment when my son should have realized that something was off with mom)

Me:  We are here to get ideas and then I'll make something better.  (obviously)

Peyton: can we just go home?

So, defeated, we headed for the door.  

BUT ON THE WAY OUT, Peyton found his dream costume.  

No joke, he hasn't stopped asking to be Slenderman.  Again, I don't know what this is.

On the plus side, I can totally buy a $54 costume and be done.

There is zero creativity here.  Anyone could have bought that costume.  Its a leotard onesie.

So I decided that Peyton just couldn't imagine himself in character.  That was the problem.

So I made him a deal.  (He LOVES deals.)

I won't choose his costume for him and he will let me paint his face a different way every night until we agree on a character.

(Pretty sure I just used his tactic of annoying me until I cave against him.)

(Mom win!)

I decided to go with the look that hooked me for our first attempt.

It was quick enough that he sat still for one eye and most of the mouth.

(no close-ups because it was actually more Heath Ledger's Joker than 16th century's Harlequin.)

See him scrunching up his face in the mirror!?!  There may be hope for him yet!

More pictures to come!  This MIGHT be my favorite halloween!

Perfect Sunday afternoon

One boy is watching football.  One boy is playing video games.   It's raining outside.  The crockpot is going.   The laundry is in the washer.  My stars are aligned this afternoon.  & now I lay down for a late Sunday afternoon snooze.