Mommy Spills

One is NOT the loneliest number!

2010-04-24T16:18:00.000-07:00

Little E is going through that super awesome, tons of fun, never inconvenient stage right now where she only wants Mommy. In case you're new to this blog...that's me.   She only wants me to take her to the bathroom. Only I can take her to bed. I must carry her up the stairs. I must fix her plate. I must dress her. I am clearly the only person in this world she deems capable of her prestigious care.

Holy crap - it's exhausting. I can't catch a break. When I'm finally starting to eat my own dinner - and the rest of the family is halfway done, she has to pee. My husband rises to take her and she shouts with a shrill scream attached to it, "NOOOOOO! MOMMY TAKE ME!"   It's like that for pretty much everything. And what makes it particularly hard is that my husband travels a great deal of the time. So I really look forward to the help when he's around. So when she won't let him help, it's like the biggest, most painful buzz kill ever.

I suppose I should be flattered by this constant attention. I mean, I should be completely honored that she enjoys my company soooo much, she won't leave my side. Even when I'm pooping.   She stands outside of the shower gazing through the glass longingly while I lather up. She opens the door right as I start to shave my legs and says ever so cutely, "Whatchou doing mommy?" But COME ON! Even I get sick of me. Surely she would like a change of pace once in a while, right? No.

I remember when Miss A went through this and way back then my husband was frustrated by it. He wanted to do stuff. He found it irritating that she wanted ME all the time. This time around, I think he quite likes it. Afterall, seemingly nothing with Little E is walk in the park. Things take a little more coaxing, a little more effort, if you will. In fact, I might beg to ponder whether he is actually somehow slipping subliminal messages into her little brain when she sleeps at night - just to avoid the obstacle of getting her to cooperate. Perhaps he has implanted a recording device into one of her teddy bears. "You like mommy the best. Only mommy can take care of you..." it whispers into her tender little ears. Note to self - examine all contents of her bed thoroughly. I find it rather funny and annoying that this time around he's not pouting at being turned away.

The one thing she will allow him to do without my supervision is bath time. Thank the heavens above for that. So here I am, spending my ten minutes of solititude complaining about the lack thereof...and listening to him say, "IT'S NOT HERE! ASK YOUR MOM!!!"   and her quick reply of, "Where's my mommy? I want my mommy. I want to see my mommy!!" As though she had temporarily forgotten about me...but only temporarily.

Pick Your Poison

2010-04-22T19:37:00.000-07:00

My darling little Miss A was a shy child. She was painfully shy, like the kind that buried her head in my legs when a person said "hello" to her. She avoided eye contact with anyone who wasn't in our immediate family. I swear in the year between her first birthday and her second birthday she spent more time looking at the floor than she did any actual human beings outside our family. I was annoyed and embarrassed by her shyness at times. I wasn’t annoyed with her, or embarrassed of her. Honestly, I felt like I was being judged because of how shy she was and being a first-time mom, it felt like I must have been doing something wrong. It seemed to me that others thought I wasn’t “socializing” her enough, as though she were a dog or something. As a stay-at-home mom, I felt like all the “daycare” babies were at an advantage in this socialization race. I loved her for who she was, but I wasn’t secure enough in my own “mommyhood” at this point to not second guess it. I wanted her to be more outgoing. I wanted her to be that child that beamed a huge grin when the old man at the grocery store said, "Hi there, little miss," instead of hiding her eyes and sticking out her bottom lip. I wished she were not so shy.

Oh there were (and still are) benefits to the shyness. I never have to worry when we are in public. She never leaves my sight. She still stays right next to me wherever we go. She doesn't talk to strangers. She doesn't act out in restaurants. She never does anything to call attention to herself in a bad way. I can definitely appreciate the perks that came along with the shyness. At the time though, I was not completely appreciative of it. I wanted her to not be shy. I thought, “Oh, it would be so much easier if she weren’t shy.”

Enter Little E. Hmmm. I am now eating my words. I am eating my words piled high with lettuce and tomato. I have finally figured it out. I did this. I wished for a child that was not so reserved. And I got it. I got her. I got a super-sized personality and EVERYONE finds it wildly entertaining except the poor worn-out mother trying to chase her down in the grocery store. (Uh, that’s me.) When someone says “hi” she says “hi” back. She doesn’t bury her head. She can be a little shy at times – like say an intimidating person gets in her face. (Like the scary old ladies with chin hair and bad breath.) But otherwise, she’s game for a friendly conversation. She cares little what other people witness of her behavior. If she is displeased, everyone knows it. She will scream until her face turns blue in the line at Target when I tell her to put the Ring pop back. Other times, she’ll put it back and then high-five the cashier. It’s a crap shoot with Little E, but whatever the outcome, someone generally gets a laugh out of her outrageous mannerisms. And at the same moment you can find me taking a deep breath and counting to seven…because I don’t have time to get to ten before she takes off after something else.

So this is my lesson learned: they are who they are. Both of my children are completely unique and both of their personalities have a lot of benefits and some challenges as well. I have at times wished I could transfer traits between the two of them, like Pasteur with a petri dish. “Okay, let’s see here, a little more timid here, a little more outgoing here, a little more courage here and a little less slapping people in the face here…” Alas I am not a genius genetic engineer, but a lowly housewife. So the point is, I love them both immensely regardless of whether or not they greet strangers on a whim. It’s a classic case of “grass is greener.” I had challenges with the shyness, just like I do with the lack thereof. I was peeling one off my legs and I’m running ragged chasing the other through Pier One. They are both amazing, wonderfully special little girls that fill my heart with more love and pride than it can possibly hold without spilling over. I am lucky and honored to be the one they call Mommy.

"Holy cow, that's good!"

2010-04-22T06:23:00.000-07:00

My friends, the inaugural sandwich making has taken place. And all I can say is OMG. I had forgotten, even in my excited state, how delicious these creations can be.

I got up early this morning because I was excited to use it. I'm not kidding. Here's how it went: I scrambled some eggs with cheddar cheese. By the time the the eggs were done, I had it out of the box, gave it a once over, wiped it down and it was preheated. It only took like two minutes to preheat. I spread a little butter on some 100% whole wheat bread, piled up the eggs in between it and let the magic happen. Within 3 minutes it was done.

My only complaint is the "lock" button on the handle. Either mine is defective or it's a little tricky. OR, quite possibly, I'm just an idiot. Anyway, I went into a panic because I was trying to open the thing when I knew my sandwich was done and I think it may have mostly been my fault that I couldn't get it open. I did, however get it open within a few seconds and boy am I glad.

Miss A came downstairs and said, "What's that?" upon looking at her plate. I explained to her the glory of the sandwich maker and she thought the whole thing sounded fascinating and definitely wants to be a part of the next creation. Then she took a bite. "Mmmmmmmmmm," she said. She took another bite. "Holy cow, that's good!" Enough said.

I am not kidding people. You need one of these in your life. You kids will LOVE it. I am going to continue to report on the creations I've made and I'm asking our friend Rose who won the giveaway to do the same. As a mom, and a sucker for convenience, and a HUGE proponent of the food revolution, I am highly recommending this product. You can make a hot, healthy meal (and some not so healthy ones) in just minutes. Here are some suggestions:
First of all - 100% whole wheat bread & 100% pure olive oil or canola oil spray

ham, cheese and broccoli
turkey pepperoni, part-skim mozzarella and sauce
tomato, swiss, and spinach
grilled cheese
light cream cheese and strawberries
peanutbutter and bananas

You can hide veggies in there and the other great thing is that it's portable. It smashes everything into a nice little, seale-up pocket that you can take on the go when you're on your way to soccer practice or wherever your life takes you.

Here's the other AWESOME thing - you can get one for $17.99!!!! (No, I'm not being paid to write this.) Here's the site: http://www.cookware.com/Proctor-Silex-25408-PSX1016.html

By the way - Little E just started eating hers. "Mmm, mommy! Mmmm!" is her report.

Talking about a revolution...

2010-04-21T19:42:00.000-07:00

So, my friends - what do you think about the so-called food revolution? I would like your feedback, because I for one, am all about it. I recently spent some time at an indoor water park, and well, the mall, and the playground, and my daughter's school. Let's just say, pretty much everywhere I go, I see them. Children who are overweight. The chicken nugget generation. It troubles me.

It troubles me not because the children are, well, fat. What troubles me is the fact that they've been given no say in the matter. They are tiny little kids. They are not making their own food choices. They are the direct product of what their parents are feeding them. And it's sad.

I am not the food police. I allow my children to eat the things that are brightly colored and lack any sign of being the product of anything organic. (You are what you eat?) But I also try very hard to make sure they eat a variety of healthy foods on a daily basis. (and for that matter organic too.) It's important to me. It's important to me that their little bodies are healthy. I don't care what they look like, but I love that every day they have more than their daily allowances of everything they need and lots of antioxidants, and all that good stuff. I feel good knowing they eat well.

As for the "looks" part of it. I feel sorry for the kids I see. I feel sorry for them because I was a kid once and kids can be cruel. There were two kids that were particularly heavy in our class. They got made fun of a lot. And I am pretty certain it was detrimental to a lot more than their self-esteem. I can't imagine what it felt like to be chided every day with nicknames and gestures. One of them became the class clown and spent all his time deflecting his own feelings with humor. The other one became so painfully shy, she barely made eye contact with anyone.

What ~~bothers me,~~ pisses me off, is that these innocent little children are being "made" into something without being given a chance. To be honest, I don't know how it happens. I don't know if it's lack of education, if it's laziness, selfishness or just stupidity. Yes, I get it. Some children have medical reasons for their weight. I'm not talking about those kids. I'm talking about the pizza roll, chicken nuggets, few products of the earth, sitting on the couch playing video games kids. Do I think those things should be banished from the world? No. But perhaps some moderation would be nice, peppered with some veggies, some fruit and a lot of physical activity.

Are any of you watching Jamie Oliver's show? The one where he's trying to overhaul a school lunch system (with a lot of resistance) and turn basically the fattest city in the U.S. into a healthier one? I find it fascinating. And sickening. I am the first to admit I love convenience. But where do we draw the line between what's easy and what's HEALTHY for our children? And who draws that line for the kids whose parents won't? I don't know what my point is as I stand on this soap box. I just feel sorry for the kids. I'm sure they're quite happy, I mean, who isn't happy when they're eating a ding dong? But seriously? Wake up parents. Give your kids a fair shot at a healthy life.

Your thoughts? Spill it.

And the winner is.....

2010-04-20T13:39:00.000-07:00

"I would melt spinach, tomato, mushrooms with a little bit of cheddar cheese. There you have it ~ my mouth is officially watering now. YUMMMMMM!!!!!!" - Rose

Can you stand the excitement?! You will soon be melting all your own creations!* Send your name and address to: mommyspills@gmail.com

*Winner chosen by random drawing.

Thanks everyone for entering. Stay tuned for another cool giveaway!

Moving on up!!!

2010-04-19T19:32:00.000-07:00

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go....I'm standing here outside your door...I hate to wake you up to say goodbye. I'm leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeavin' - but not on a jet plane. Mommy Spills is branching out, leaving this "blogger" format behind and establishing a website of our own! I know, right? I'm so technologically advanced! Not really, which is why the move is taking so long - but now you know why I've been so absent! I've been putting all my free time, which lately is approximately 30 minutes a day - into getting my new site up and running.

I figure it's time to be a big girl blogger now. Who knows - maybe I'll get some ads going like all those blogger bitches who are raking in some serious cash. Regardless, it will be a fun new adventure. So stay tuned!!

Just a reminder that you can still enter the sandwich maker giveaway! The drawing will take place tomorrow and the winner will be announced by the end of the day! (Like how I give you a vague time descriptor there? So in other words, I'll announce the winner some time tomorrow when I get around to it.) Enter here by leaving a comment : (Sandwich Maker Giveaway)

Until then!

REALLY AWESOME GIVEAWAY

2010-04-14T10:26:00.000-07:00

It's GIVEAWAY TIME! And I could NOT be more excited about this product. "What could it be?!" you ask? Oh rack your brains my friends. Could it be an enrollment in the salsa of the month club? A badminton set? A set of cribs for the newborn twins you are yet to conceive? NOPE. Even better.

This was absolutely my favorite thing when I was young. I am not kidding. Are you ready for this? It's a Proctor-Silex Sandwich Maker . Not just a sandwich maker...it's an instrument for culinary creativity. Hold on to your hats.

I BEGGED my mother to purchase this. I saw the ads for the amazing in way in which you could create a crispy coating on the outside and a gooey, yummy melted inside. I pleaded with her - "We MUST have this appliance! It will make the best lunches ever! And you can make breakfast pockets, dessert pockets...." And she bought it. Finally - I could create the concoctions I had dreamt about. Was I a dork or a culinary genius in the making? Hmmmm.....

I could not be more excited about this. The folks at http://www.cookware.com/ are putting this item up for grabs, JUST FOR YOU! I'm getting one too because I can't WAIT to turn my girls loose on this thing. I can just imagine the creations they will come up with. (Mmm, Mmm, Gag)

So here's what you do - leave a comment on this posting. Tell me what you think I should melt between bread first. Tell me why you want this thing. Tell me anything. And YOU could win your VERY OWN SANDWICH MAKER! You may think I'm a dork - but until you've melted some scrambled eggs, sausage and cheese in between two pieces of crispy buttery bread - you have NO idea. YUM.

The Lion's Den

2010-04-13T13:04:00.000-07:00

Bedtime in our house is still leaving me feeling something like what I imagine a lion tamer feels before he steps into the ring. I am slightly nervous, the adrenaline is pumping and I am hoping for the best before we even get done brushing teeth. Little E. Oh that stinker of a child whom I love so dearly. She is the most persistent human being that has ever walked upon this earth. I am more than certain of that. I keep telling myself someday this persistence will pay off for her. I try desperately to beat that thought into my mind rather than beating my head against the wall.

She will get of out bed time after time after time. She's relentless. "I want some socks on." "I'm thirsty." "I need to potty." "I need to potty again." and the ever famous, "I want you." --- "I want you." Both of my children have used this line to my utter detriment. I can be sitting within seven inches of them and they will start whining. When I say, "What's the matter?' They say, "I want you." When I go into the other room, "I want you." When they are hanging all over me when I'm trying to fold laundry, "I want you." What does that even mean?! I could understand it if I were ever gone away from them. But I'm not!! I am with them all the time. They can literally be sitting on top of my head and say it, "I want you." Ugh. So anyway, this bedtime struggle with Little E. It is killing me. I will likely be entering an asylum soon if things don't turn around. I don't know what to do. The hardest part is the screaming. I can deal with the screaming. I would let her cry it out if she would just stay in her room and do it very quietly. But she doesn't. She wails at the top of her lungs and walks around the house until she can find a person to direct it at. The problem with this is that Miss A is also trying to sleep at this time. She needs to sleep because she has to get up and go to school the next day. So the quandary I'm in is trying to figure out how to do this all peacefully so Miss A can get some shut-eye.

I feel that I'm walking a fine line ON TOP of egg shells at this point. The fine line is between being nurturing and being firm. Being assertive without being downright scary - because that's the last thing I need, to give her another excuse why she can't go to bed. "I'm scared Mommy....of you." I have figured out at least this much - she responds better when I'm being nice. (Duh.) She cries louder and harder when someone raises their voice. (Duh.) But I think it has a lot to do with the same adrenaline I have pumping through my veins. When she gets "threatened" so to speak - she reaches all new levels of upset. If I'm not firm enough, she will likely get out of bed more than 17 times in one night. So lately I've been addressing her "needs" quickly and quietly and putting her back in bed. Sometimes it works like a dream, sometimes it's an utter nightmare. On the upside, on nights when she is completely super worn out, she goes down much easier. So basically I've been trying to wear her out all day every day. To be honest I think I'm the one who ends up worn out and she ends up being a disaster by the end of the day because she's been going nonstop without a nap. Shit.

I've heard of people putting locks on the outside of their children's doors. So (don't forward this to the fire marshall) I tried my own version of wrapping a ribbon (hot pink, no less) around the doorknob of her room and the doorknob of the linen closet right outside of her room so she can't pull her door open. This resulted in her screaming at the door, "TAKE THAT PINK THING OFF! I NO LIKE THAT PINK THING! TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF" and that goes ON and ON until the dogs in the neighborhood are howling. So let's just say she might be claustrophic and I might be charged with some kind of offense. In my defense, to open the door, all you have to do is open the linen closet door too. And it didn't work so I'm not longer practicing this form of torture. Please don't send me any hate mail.

I've tried rewards, I've tried punishments, I've tried eliminating naps. I've tried everything when it comes to bedtime - just like I've tried everything when it comes to getting through to her in all other aspects. She is just not easily persuaded to do anything she doesn't want to do. I have to tell you - I'm not at all concerned with peer pressure in her future. I know for certain she will never do anything she doesn't want to. She reminds me of this every day.

So meanwhile, I will channel my inner Seigfried and/or Roy - and or perhaps even my Steve Irwin (may he RIP) because in these moments I feel a lot more like a lion (tiger?) tamer/ alligator wrestler than a suburban super mom.

Got a hot bedtime tip? (Um, not that kind.) I mean, like a suggestion or scientifically proven method or fact or ANYTHING that will help me with this? SPILL IT!

Catch me (or it!) if you can!

2010-04-12T18:57:00.000-07:00

Holy crap friends. It's been nuts around here. (And by nuts, I mean, the days are flying by so fast, most of the time I don't know my ass from my elbow.) Please allow me to catch you up on a few highlights and discoveries I've made.

Discovery #1 - Bubble wands in the bathtub. Plain old bubble wands from those big packs of bubble paraphernalia your in-laws keep getting your children. (Oh, just mine?) But anyway, if you put those suckers in the bathtub and squirt a little Johnson & Johnson's in a cup with some water - it's endless entertainment. Sure, it may pose a slip hazard on the floor surrounding the bath mat. But it's SO WORTH IT. The kids have so much fun and they stop smacking each other and pulling each other's hair long enough to pucker up and blow some bubbles. Freaking genius.

Discovery #2 - Carpet samples. So you know we are finishing the basement and thank you sweet fancy panties, it's ALMOST DONE. We are in the final stages, which included ordering carpet. In the process of ordering said carpet, the store (NFM for the locals) let us pick out 5 colors and sent us samples of each of them. Good size, like mini-rug samples. The girls freaking love them. They use them as doll beds, blankets for dolls, picnic blankets, the beach, YOU NAME IT, they have created it with the carpet samples. So yes, although we chose our color long ago, our home is still littered with these poor man's rugs and I have no intention of getting rid of them any time soon. So I suggest even if you're not in the market for carpet, you pretend to be. And get some. Carpet, that is.

Event of the week - VOMIT FEST 2010
So Little E seemingly has some pretty rotten allergies. She's been a sneezing, coughing, snotting mess for a couple of weeks now. Alas I decided to try to help her get a good night's sleep with some kiddie Benadryl. Well, Little E does not like medicine. Imagine that - Little E who resists practically everything in this world I have to offer, also resists something that is mildly foul tasting and forced upon her. Shocking. So anyway, my husband (who is pretty near the end of his rope with Little E) says, "Just make her take it!" Oh, okay. Great idea. So I basically pucker up her lips and go rogue - squirting the medicine wherever it lands inside her mouth. And it happens to land in her larynx. She starts gasping and choking and then throws up all over the floor. Not just a little bit - a lot. Like all of the snack mix she had just eaten and seemingly part of dinner. I am trying to catch it with my hand, which by the way is never very effective. (Perhaps I should invent a vomit catching glove? Sort of like a catcher's mitt.) My hubby is shouting at me, "USE YOUR SHIRT! TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT!" Um, sorry, a little busy catching vomit with my hand to disrobe at the moment. So he strips off his shirt and throws it at me, just as we hear Miss A start wretching on the bed. Oh yeah, she's a reactive vomiter. So he runs to her - and starts catching her puke with her beloved blanket. (I would have gone for something less sentimental, but whatever.) Little E has stopped at this point and I am stripping her down. I got a washcloth and cleaned her up quickly then escorted Miss A into the bathroom to clean her up. Upon entering the bathroom, she looks at her pajamas, and starts hurling again - because she saw the vomit on her shirt. Are you keeping up with this? So now the pink shag rug in their bathroom is full of chunks and she pukes all the way to the toilet - then sees her puke in the toilet, and starts going again. Meanwhile Little E has appeared in the doorway and starts shouting, like REALLY LOUD shouting - "THAT'S YUCKY! THAT'S YUCKY!! THAT'S YUCKY!!" I wanted to say to her, "Uh, yeah, and you started all this." But I couldn't. Because I was laughing hysterically. In fact - I was laughing through this entire ordeal. I was nearly crying I was laughing so hard. My husband was annoyed, saying things like, "I'm glad you find this funny!" And I couldn't help myself. I mean, the absurdity of it all - the vomit just flying everywhere because of a 1/2 teaspoon of Benadryl. All of the dramatic reactive vomiting, the stating of the obvious ("That's yucky!") I mean, it's something from a sitcom. Freaking hysterical. So fast forward roughly ten minutes. Everyone is done vomiting, changed into new pajamas and we're brushing teeth again. Little E says, "I no want anymore of that Bob in my mouse." (Mouse is how she says mouth, and apparently Bob is our new word for vomit.) So of course I started laughing again. By now I'm pretty sure my husband is covinced I've gone off the deep end, and honestly, I can't provide any evidence to the contrary at this point. The girls topped off the night sleeping in our bed until their room cleared of all the carpet cleaning fumes - so they felt that it was a rather sweet deal.

I have much more to tell and since we are past the basement madness and Miss A's birthday that only leaves, every day life, laundry, dishes, yoga, dance, gymanstics, soccer and t-ball, the dog, the cleaning - oh and finding time to say hello to my husband WHEN he's in town and if he's lucky, say hello to other parts of him, *ahem*. Anyway, I'm back. Talk to you soon.

The Park is for Playing

2010-03-29T20:12:00.000-07:00

Dear moms (and dads) at the park today,

Get off your fucking phone. Yeah, I said it. Turn it off, put it down, and/or step away. I'm serious.

When your toddler is dangling in the baby swing, yet at a complete halt, totally still, staring into space because you're texting and completely oblivious to this fact....GET OFF THE PHONE!

When your child asks ME to help her cross the monkey bars because you're sitting on the bench yammering away on your cell...GET OFF THE PHONE!

When you finally look up after being thoroughly engrossed in your smart phone and have a panic-striken look on your face because you realize your child is nowhere in sight and start shouting, "Lily! Lily!" until I point her out to you....GET OFF THE PHONE!

I mean seriously. I get it. We like our phones. We are a connected society. This isn't the first time I'm broaching this topic. (Are You Connected?) But honestly...if you can't put your phone down to push your child on the swing, that's a problem. What kind of message is that sending to your child? That your phone is more worthy of your attention that they are?!

I understand there are circumstances. Maybe it was an emergency. Maybe you were "working." But you are still at the park with your kid. Can't you make a better effort? I fully admit that I like my phone. But I don't need it at the park. I had it at the park, only because a friend was possibly meeting me and needed to call to see if I was still there. But guess where it was? Tucked into my underpants because I didn't have any pockets. (I tried sticking my keys in the other side, but they kept falling down my pant leg.) And the only time I looked at it was to check the time. No, I don't think I'm better than you. But I do think I enjoyed my time at the park with my children more than you did. Because they had my attention. All of my attention. When Little E climbed up and jumped to reach the monkey bars completely unsuccessfully, I was almost there to catch her. :) In my defense, I was helping Miss A across said monkey bars and had told Little E to wait JUST ONE MINUTE and they were not high monkey bars and she did not cry.

Anyway, the point is this...it's getting old. When will you hear me? When will you cut the theoretical cord on your phone and thus be able to live your life more present in the moment with your children? The sooner the better folks. And in the meantime, GET OFF YOUR FUCKING PHONE!

Sincerely,
Mommy Spills

Let's Make a Deal??

2010-03-28T06:18:00.000-07:00

My husband wants to know "what's wrong" with Little E. I suppose because I'm the mother I should have all the answers. After all, I spend the most time with her. I carried her for nine months. I should know the reasoning behind her tantrums. I wish I did. I would give anything for the magical solution while in the throws of one of those ear splitting moments when I feel my sanity is being stripped away from me.

I was not home last night for bed time. I was gone from approximately 8:15 to 9:30. I came home to find Little E crying, working her way down the stairs. My flustered husband informed me that he wanted to "trade her in," (jokingly, of course). And I spent the next hour or so getting her and Miss A to sleep, which ended with the three of us having a sleepover on the floor. Miss A went right to sleep. Little E rambled for about 30 minutes more and I just might have fallen asleep before her. I woke up around two o'clock and went to my own bed with a sore neck.

At approximately 4:30 am, we experienced maybe one of the greatest fits ever. She came into our room upset so I let her come into our bed (which I regret I have done too much recently). She kept insisting she wanting to "turn around" and neither of us could figure out what she wanted. We tried. Nothing we suggested worked. She got more and more frustrated. Finally, though still screaming, she made her way to the bottom of the bed and insisted upon staying there. She was like two centimeters from the edge of the bed, and was teetering with every flailing of the arms about to topple over onto the floor. I kept trying to coax her onto a pillow next to me...she resisted more fervently until I was sure she was going to wake the neighbors. Since we have a house guest, and poor little Miss A loses too much sleep because of Little E's banshee act, I offered to take her downstairs and rock her. She was game, and even stopped crying. I was relieved, thinking it was the end of the debauchery. Then I innocently covered my legs with a blanket and she lost it. She started kicking and screaming, so overly tired and so pissed off, I didn't know what to do. I didn't see a way to quiet her, so I went out into the garage and we sat in the car. At least then I knew it would be quiet for everyone else. So there we sat in the drivers seat, staring at each other. It was cold because obviously I couldn't start the thing. She finally said to me, "I wanna go in the house mommy." I told her we couldn't go in the house unless she would be quiet. She agreed and morphed back into my little angel that snuggled up next to me the minute I placed her sweet head on the pillow. Sigh.

So I laid there thinking about my Little E and trying to decipher this mystery that she is. I thought of my husband's proposition to trade her in. I pictured us on "Let's Make a Deal." (The old one...not the new one.) My husband is dressed like a deck of cards and I am a bunch of grapes or some crazy shit like that, and there we are standing there with Monty Hall. Little E sits on the stage as we contemplate whether we will keep her or see what's behind the curtains. And here's the thing about Little E...well there are lots of things actually. Yes, she can throw the most mind-blowing tantrums you have ever witnessed. She is short-fused and hot-tempered. She is relentless when she wants something. It's who she is. But she also has the biggest, most contagious smile you have ever seen. Her entire face lights up when she's happy. She gives the sweetest, most tender hugs and kisses. She laughs like everything she witnesses is the funniest thing she's ever seen. She has more energy than that pink rabbit that sells batteries. I swear she does. And most of the time...she channels that energy into being a wildly entertaining happy-go-lucky, bouncing, running, jumping, spinning in circles and falling down, the world is her playground, kind of girl. She is an amazing, wonderfully sweet girl. She makes us laugh more than anyone we've ever known. In fact, everyone that knows her, has this unexplained attraction to her. People are drawn to her energy, and her ornery demeanor. She is just "Little E." Of course we'll keep her. How could we not?

But then you know what happens next. You still have to see what's behind the curtains.

Curtain number one opens up to reveal quadruplets. Healthy, beautiful, thriving, newborn quadruplets. Four times the diapers, four times the tears, four times the tantrums, four times the reward, I'm sure....but four times the work.

Curtain number two opens up to display a one-way trip to Malawi, where we will raise our family in an area where there is no access to clean water. People are dying of AIDS all around us and we have none of the "necessities" we are accustomed to here. We will struggle every day for life's most basic essentials and wonder how we will provide for our children.

Curtain number three opens up to reveal a child that has been blind since birth. A child that will never see the love in his parent's eyes. One that will never know what he looks like, nor his family. A child that doesn't know colors or animals by sight. A child that is loved and cherished no less, but that faces challenges that we can't even imagine.

Of course we would never in a million years give up our Little E. Though in the most trying moments we might actually entertain the notion for a split second, it's only a fleeting joke that gets us through the difficult times. But if that were really an option, there are a lot more challenging situations than a two and a half year old who throws killer tantrums. I mean, in the grand scheme of things...some frustrating moments and some sleepless nights are far less consuming than that which other parents go through. I mean, it doesn't mean I won't still look for a little "me too" action on here. Because let's face it, it makes us feel better as a parent to know that our children aren't completely unique in those little things that make us nuts. I sincerely appreciate all the messages you send me to let me know I'm not the only one who might actually be the first person ever to say they're going to pull their hair out, and actually do it. That's the beauty of this blog...and the beauty of parenthood. We are all in this together. Deal or no deal.

Pier FUN! (Not really!)

2010-03-24T13:00:00.000-07:00

Have you ever noticed when celebrities are photographed with their kids, most of the time, the only have ONE of them with them? Look at the cover of People Mag. It's like, "Gwyneth and Apple's Day Out." or "Brad and Pax on the Town!" I want to know..where's Moses? Where are the other five? Why do they only take one kid out at a time??? I'll tell you why. Because they are SMART!!! Because sometimes it is hard being in public with kids, especially more than one. So they have bunch of nannies at their disposal and can pass off one or six of their kids to make the outing easier. BRILLIANT! I may be just a tinge jealous...can you detect that in my tone?! You see, I nearly lost it on an outing today...and I only had ONE child with me. ONE. Oh and which wonderfully, amazing, sweet, endearing child of mine was my companion on this outing? You know it! My precious Little E.

It started off easy enough. We went to Target. I got her a slushee and plopped her into the cart. She wanted to get out and walk...I allowed it. We had a lot of fun browsing the toys, looking at books, admiring the Easter stuff. She was happy. I was happy. And we had a simple return to make at Pier One. Just a curtain. I just needed to return a curtain. With Little E by my side, I stood at the register, presented my receipt and took care of business so we could be on our merry way. Something happened and it was not merry. It was not merry at all and we did not go on our way. We instead ran through the store. Correction. She ran and I chased her. She just bolted. Like a bat out of hell, she took off and did not look back. Straight down the aisle, with the VERY breakable items stacked seemingly miles high. It was a precarious situation. She finally turned around at the end of the aisle when she put her hand on a big GLASS pitcher. I said sternly, "THAT'S NOT FOR TOUCHING." She smiled, took two steps back and then bolted again. So here I am, chasing after her. I am borderline jogging with my bag (rather large bag) slung over my shoulder - trying very carefully to keep it from knocking a porcelain rooster or sea glass tumbler set onto the ground to shatter into a million pieces. I'm also carrying my coat and her raincoat and I might as well be juggling eggs and knives and balancing on a freaking bed of marbles. I mean, why are the aisles so freaking narrow? And there are all these little displays set up, like full place settings on trays and champagne glasses set up in a pyramid on top of a barstool. (Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration.) But the point is - it was not good. Long story short, she finally got distracted by a mirror and I was able to swipe her up while she was picking her nose, saying, "I'm not picking my nose mom!" (Uh, note to Little E - that's a dead giveaway that you ARE picking your nose.) So I carried her, kicking and screaming, until I got her to calm down by promising she could look at the toys if she calmed down (meaning: STOP SCREAMING!) and she did. Thank the sweet lord, she stopped. And I exhaled for the first time in ten minutes and put on her coat. The sales women were undoubtedly relieved to see us go. I could have used a stiff drink waiting for me in my minivan. (NO - I do not condone drinking and driving.)

So the point is - #1 Pier One is a nightmare - the breakables, the narrow aisles. NEVER take a toddler unless you're husband travels all the time and the return policy on your receipt is about to expire and you have no choice. #2 I get it. I get why the celebs take advantage of the luxury of taking only one child with them. Because it's hard enough with one child. Actually for me a nanny would make no difference. Miss A is one of those somewhat shy, never leave mom's side in public kind of kids. So whether I had one or both of them would make no difference. It's more a matter of whether I had a brave soul to take on Little E for a while. And I'm quite positive she would be a complete and utter angel in the presence of another, because it seems that I am the audience she prefers for her naughty deeds.

My sincere apologies to the women in Pier One for the disruption to your otherwise low-key papasan fluffing day.

Disaster Area: Proceed with Caution

2010-03-22T12:23:00.000-07:00

I was a messy child. I was more than a messy child, and into my teenage years, I was worse. If we're being honest, I'm pretty sure had any American president ever set foot in our house, my room would have been declared a national disaster area. The floor was rarely seen. It even came to the point where my walls coudn't be seen due to the magazine clippings and assorted items I hung on them. My room was like the inside of a recycle bin with a clothing explosion in the midst of it. Yes. It was bad.

My room was a thorn in my mother's side for her entire life. She asked me to keep my room clean. She told me to keep my room clean. She begged me to keep my room clean. She punished me for not keeping my room clean. Her constant chiding annoyed me. I thought her requests were stupid and uptight. "It's my room, " I would say. "It doesn't bother me." And she would eventually just close my door and hope that nothing crawled out from under the wreckage.

I never understood it. I thought it was so ridiculous, this NEED for organization and cleanliness. I thought it was a waste of time. OH MY...how times have changed. You see, I grew out of my sloppy ways. I actually took it pretty far into the other direction. I developed a NEED for the organization and cleanliness. I liked to have a place for everything, and everything to be in its place. In college, my roommates found it hilarious when I made a sign to hang over the kitchen sink that said, "Please put your dishes in the dishwasher." Yes, I did. I was so anal, it irritated me to no end when someone else didn't hold the same standards of cleanliness that I did. Ah, grasshopper...the student had become the teacher. Classic case. I only wish my mother had lived long enough to see the new and improved "cleaner" version of me.

Here's the kicker though. I am 100% certain that the tables are being turned on me...and perhaps even at the hands of my dearly departed mother. You see, my children make the greatest most catastrophic messes of all time. They destroy rooms in a matter of minutes. They are like tiny little tornadoes that tear through our home leaving piles of toy and clothing rubble behind. And their rooms are the WORST. They are five and two. FIVE and TWO and they are already turning their rooms into what my mother would call a "pig sty." When they play dress-up, they scatter the clothes all over the floor until no carpet can be seen. And then they leave it. They leave the room and move on to the next thing, without even giving it a second thought. And THEN, they could walk right back into that same disastrous room, as if nothing were out of place and proceed with normal activities such as napping or getting a pair socks from a drawer. It does not phase them in the least. Nothing does. It's like they are blind to all messes.

Now, I'm not nearly as uptight as I used to be. I honestly used to follow kids around at playdates picking up after them. Like the instant a toy hit the floor, I would put it away...so much so that they child would turn around to retrieve said toy and it would have already been placed back into the proper receptacle. I'm pretty sure a lot of moms thought I was crazy. I have since loosened up quite a lot. I don't mind toys on the floor here and there. I can handle the playroom being out of sorts. It's the giant disastrous messes that kill me. Oh man do they kill me.

It's like a never-ending battle. Do you ever feel like this?? Little E will literally walk into a room, dump out an entire bin full of tiny pieces, and move on to the next thing. Repeatedly. Miss A is more the culprit of the messy bedroom. She is a pack rat. She wants to keep everything. Every little trinket and happy meal toy. Every scrap of paper given to her by a classmate at school. It all piles up on her dresser, her nightstand, and on every other surface she can find until I can sweep in like a secret spy and throw some of it away.

My dear husband is wonderful. He picks up after everyone, although begrudgingly at times. The problem with him is that he doesn't appreciate my organizational skills. You see, I have a bin (with a lid) and a LABEL for everything. EVERYTHING. I will spend hours painstakingly separating each and every little Polly Pocket purse from the Barbie accessories. I retrieve the lone strawberry shortcake figurine from the Little People bin...and so on and so forth. I put a lot of time into my highly organized system. And my husband, love him to death, but he will just throw everything into the closest container. It makes me want to SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAM!!!!!

I have this theory that my mom is playing the role of the revenge-seeking puppet master. I can just see her pulling the strings as Little E runs through a room like the Tasmanian Devil, tossing random objects and leaving behind scene of mass destruction. I hear her voice echoing in my mind when I say to Miss A, "Do you really want to keep this deflated helium balloon?" I guess this is what some would call: sweet justice.

TOSHIBA sucks and is preventing me from writing my blog!

2010-03-15T12:05:00.000-07:00

FYI - my TOSHIBA laptop has shot the shit for the second time in it's short two-year life. And TOSHIBA has told me I'm completely out of luck, so......I've been forced to hijack my husbands computer to update you on this catastrophe. I will be back on soon as I resolve the issue without the help of the seemingly helpLESS shitheads at TOSHIBA.

I'm about to embark on a 4+ hour drive with my daughters ALONE...so please pray for my sanity and brace yourself for the stories that will come once I return.

Until then...TOSHIBA sucks and have a great week!

For your viewing enjoyment...

2010-03-13T19:40:00.001-08:00

Since I'm such an INCREDIBLY nice person...I'm putting up this trailer for an indie film company. Tell me what you think. Leave a comment after you watch the trailer and you'll be entered in a drawing to win a free copy of the movie's soundtrack!

Introducing....Letters to God.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for SANITY!

2010-03-10T13:51:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to lie. I'm a little distraught. I hate to be that person that focuses on the negative, especially when I have so much positive in my life. I am a very fortunate person and I am so blessed with amazing, healthy children. But here's the thing - (you knew there was a "but" didn't you?!) I have run out of ideas for getting Little E to cooperate, and by cooperate, I mean not scream like a crazy banshee every time something doesn't go exactly how she wants it. Exhibit A - she's in her carseat. She wants a new movie in the dvd player. I tell her, "I can't change it right now because I'm driving." She starts screaming. REALLY screaming, at the top of her lungs as if she is being tortured. I'm not kidding. A bystander might think I am reaching behind my seat pulling off her toenails. So then, in the midst of her screaming, she starts kicking wildly, so much so, that her shoe flies off. This sends her into an even greater frenzy, because now she has lost her shoe. The screaming turns into a mixture of shrieking and shouting, "I WANT MY CROC! I WANT MY CROC!!" And, I'm driving. So there's nothing I can do. I can't get her shoe. I can't look her in the eye and reason with her. I can't do anything. And it's exhausting.

I don't want you to think my Little E is a bad kid. She's simply not. She is really a very well-behaved child for the most part. She is sweet and endearing and utterly hilarious. She brightens my day every single day. It's just these moments that test me...these brain-rattling moments of insanity. I had these moments with Miss A - I remember that. I know they weren't as frequent. I know they weren't as animated, and I know that Miss A's will was much easier to break. She would express her distaste for something and generally get over it rather quickly. She didn't like being in trouble...and still doesn't it. She's just more sensitive. Little E is as tough as nails in that regard. She could care less whether you are happy about your behavior or not. In fact, I think she might quite like to be put up on a stage for her fits. She would like everyone to witness her steadfast tantrums. Step right up! Come one! Come all!

I bought a book, "Easy to Love, Difficult to Discipline." It's been very enlightening and I can say it has changed my approach in many ways. It's been very helpful with Miss A. I think it could be effective with Little E if she didn't have her crazy super parental deflector shield on overdrive all the time. Remember that litlte saying, "I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you?" She takes it to a whole new level. Everything I say bounces off her - and jumps up and slaps me in the face.

I just don't know what to do. I don't know how to get through to her. Is that my problem? Is there any getting through to her or is this one of those phases I have to wait out? And by waiting it out, I mean trying to somehow braid back together the end of my rapidly fraying rope. I need some advice. Or co-misery. Something to let me know that this is normal.

To die for!!!

2010-03-09T13:27:00.000-08:00

I have hit the mother load. The jackpot. In a world full of things I recently have decided I can't eat....I have found something that kind of makes me want to drop my pants and do a dance. Once again, I am not being paid or persuaded to endorse this product, but it's too good to not fill you in.

Have you tried the new little Skinny Cow single serving ice cream cartons? OMG. The Fudge Brownie one is TO DIE FOR. 150 calories, 2 grams of fat. I can burn that off walking up and down the stairs at bedtime fielding requests from my daughters. I am telling you - it's just the perfect size to alleviate a craving for something sweet or chocolately or sinful or decadent. SO FREAKING GOOD. Almost so good I can't take it. Obviously so good I had to write a blog about it. (And admittedly a little pathetic.) So if you, like me, are trying to kindly remove a love handle or two...you should really try these little suckers. You will thank me.

Say Say My Playmate!

2010-03-09T12:19:00.000-08:00

Come out and play with me! Ah, the playdate. A noble concept, the pairing of two or more children, more often orchestrated by the mother than the child. We mothers plan these playdates so as to entertain our children, thus providing a fun-filled afternoon for them and a low-maintenance afternoon for us. Brilliant.

Kids love playdates. They love having them, but even more, they love going to them. It's all about what's at the other person's house, what they ate there, what their mother said and/or did during lunch - it's like a whole new world, regardless of how many times they've been there. It never fails that a myriad of new discoveries unfold after every afternoon spent at a friend's house. "GUESS WHAT WE ATE FOR LUNCH?" And funny enough - is it likely something that you have made a hundred times, but somehow it was way better because it was served on an unfamiliar plate.

Moms love playdates because there is someone else to play Barbies. That someone else fits WAY better in the dress-up clothes than we do. And they certainly have the same "OMG" response to the Hannah Montana/Miley song. It's not that we don't love playing with our kids...but once in a while, not having to act like we are super pumped to play Pretty Pretty Princess for the fourth time....pretty priceless.

Now, the one person (or people) who don't get the most out of playdates is the younger sibling. It's kind of like a huge buzz kill. They get so super excited to see the friend who has come over. They jump up and down thinking it's going to be their playdate too, only to have the door slammed in their face. More than once. And we feel bad for the little ones, yet can't quite figure out how to handle it. We don't want to "impose" on the older kids, yet the little sister in all of us just really sympathizes with the little one. So we try think of a clever game that includes everyone. Sometimes it works, sometimes it's a loss. What can you do?

Miss A is having a playdate today and I must say, Little E has hit the jackpot. They have generously included her in nearly everything - even if she does have to play the weird parts in the plays they put on...and always has to be the sick person when they play doctor kit...or is sort of their gopher when they need something. She think it's fantastic. She has been absolutely tickled all afternoon. I've even postponed her nap to allow this fun to continue for her. And that's huge.

We are reaching the end of the playdate, as Little E does need a nap and I simply don't think she'll go down with the friend here. And at this time I am reminded of the one part of the playdate that I despise...the disaster it leaves behind!!!

Let it Be

2010-03-08T12:25:00.000-08:00

I heard screeching from upstairs. The dude was here cleaning the contents of Miss A's dinner plate off of our new micro-suede kitchen chairs. (Good thing we bought the stain-guard warranty!!!) So I run up the stairs, two-at-a-time and throw open the bedroom door and find Miss A and Little E engaged in sort of a kid/toddler cage match thing over a doll. They are laying across a pillow - limbs entangled, blood-curdling screams, flopping around like two fish out of water.
I say, "What's going on in here?" Miss A says, "Nothing!" and hops up really quick. Little E not so worried about who is to blame and/or getting in trouble; starts screaming and throws herself dramatically down on top of the doll, shouting "IT'S MINE!" Know what I did? I said, "Hmmph. Okay. Well, it's almost nap time. I'll be back." And then walked back downstairs to address the chair cleaning guy.
Want to know what I heard next? Nothing. Silence. By not addressing the situation, I seemed to have diffused it. I brought no energy into it, therefore seemingly, did not fuel it any further. Now, ordinarily I would have completely intervened. I would have positioned myself between them physically and then went on and on about the whole, "we need to share, we need to be kind, blah, blah, blah" routine. But I'm pretty sure they already know that stuff. In fact, I know they know that stuff, but in the heat of the moment, it flies out the window - just like it does for many adults as well. We know what we should do in most situations. We know when we should keep our cool, but sometimes we just don't. We get caught up in whatever the situation is and we sometimes don't always react appropriately. Or maybe you do - but I know I don't always.
So my question is, why is it that I sometimes hold my children to a higher standard? Especially given the fact that they are CHILDREN. They are only beginning to learn how the world works - and what is and isn't acceptable. So while I do believe it is my job to tell them the difference between right and wrong, I think it must also by my job to let them figure it out on their own to some extent. I won't let it get violent or ugly by any means...but sometimes I think beating that theoretical dead horse is more counterproductive to the situation. Because given the evidence today - they didn't need me to solve anything. They didn't need me to tell them anything about the fact that they were acting inappropriately. They knew. And instead of getting completely caught up in defending themselves to me and pointing fingers at who was right and wrong, which would have completely escalated the situation - they just let it go. Very interesting. What's your take?

The Big 10

2010-03-08T09:03:00.000-08:00

I'm fairly certain that Little E was perhaps a twin...however the doctor failed to realize this and therefore I believe there is a 10-15 pound baby living in my body. I realize it's not in my uterus so I think it perhaps has migrated into my ass somehow. I feel this is the only explanation for that annoying ten pounds that seems to be holding on tighter than a jockstrap to a set of balls.

I am the first to admit that I took pregnancy to a new level. We've talked about this. I took the "eating for two" thing and ran with it. I more than ran with it. I was the freaking Flo Jo of pregnancy eating. After all, it was for the baby. Onion rings between meals? Completely acceptable. Ben and Jerry's every night? You know it. I started at roughly 127 lbs and topped off at 182 lbs. Uh huh. I sure did. Told you I didn't mess around. I made a varsity effort.  I basically ate like it was my job, and by the end of my pregnancy I looked a lot like Shrek. I'm not kidding.

BUT - I was back down to 130 by Miss A's first birthday party. The pants I wore that day were a size four. Now - looking back, I can't say that the pants were the greatest decision I have ever made, but nonetheless. So anyway, I lost the weight and without much of a problem doing so. I had an elliptical in my basement and I watched what I ate. I didn't deprive myself of anything. I just did what I could. Voila! All was well.

Ah, but now...I struggle. And here's the kicker, I'm pretty sure I stayed in the 160's with Little E. I now have a membership to an amazing gym which I use regularly, I practice and teach yoga, and I weight train too. HOWEVER - things are not as they should be, in fact, I feel as though in addition to the baby living in my ass, I am also melting. What the hell is going on? Is it possible that one's body just decides to go rogue and basically issues a big "fuck you?" I can't say that I'm eating any worse than I have in years past. And I am definitely working out a lot more than years past. WTF?

I think perhaps I need to visit a doctor. I could kindly ask them to remove the baby residing above my backside, BUT THEN I WOULD HAVE ANOTHER KID! I mean, I could take this Kim Kardashian ass and run with it, I suppose. (Or I could go the other Kardashian route and try that QuickTrim stuff...hmmm.) But it won't change the fact that I am clearly reaching a misunderstanding with my body. I am quite obviously not in sync with the amount of effort I must now put forth to maintain a sensible state of affairs with my figure. Is this *gasp* a sign of aging? Does one's body defy all efforts put forth once you reach a certain milestone? I refuse to believe this is so. I clearly need to examine my diet and see what gives. I'm thinking perhaps the answer starts with "car" and ends with "bohydrates." And that, my friends, is what I would call, a real bitch. Is life without carbs worth living? (funny note - at first I typed "life without crabs." Um, yeah, I would guess that's worth living!)  I obviously don't mean the whole grain business. I do a lot of that anyway. But I LOVE potatoes. And pasta. And bread. Seriously...a nice crusty asiago baguette from Panera can almost make me climax.

I believe I need to start small and see what I can cut out without losing my will to survive. I think maybe the one or two cookies her and there can be eliminated.  I'll try to amp up the gym time. And most importantly...I will keep you posted.

You know that place? I'm there.

2010-03-05T13:35:00.000-08:00

Terrible Two's anyone? And why is it called that - because I really think it's more like the transition from two to three that is killer. I mean honestly. I love my Little E. I really do. But lately, it's as though someone has flipped a switch in her that makes her this contrary little misfit.

I say, "Do you want pancakes?" She says, "yes." Then I make her pancakes and she looks at the plate as though it's covered in ear wax and says, "I no want this breakfast!" And then she does want it. And then she doesn't...and so on and so forth. It's like this with nearly everything lately..and we've talked about this before: (Little E, Why?) Her answer to most of my requests is "NOOOOOOO!" and immediately followed by her dashing into another room at lightening speed. Even if she wants to do what I ask of her, it's like she can't without first defying me. Honestly.

Here's the other thing...you know how she wants to do everything all by herself? She is very adamant about that. She wants to do EVERYTHING herself, including wanting to "WALK MYSELF!" any time we are out in public. She doesn't want to ride in the cart or stroller. She doesn't want me to carry her. She wants to WALK! EXCEPT, when I am making dinner or talking on the phone. Then she wants me to hold her. "I want to hold you!" she says and admittedly, it sounds really cute. But when it's coming at you rather aggressively with a lot of pulling on your clothing and shrieking it kind of feels like you're being attacked by a rabid hawk. Not good.

I have no idea what to do. You know those insurance commercials where they're like "You know that place? I'm there." Well here's my version: You know that place where your two and a half year old only seems to say "no" and really seems to be testing you? Where you feel like every effort you make comes to a screeching halt because you simply can't go any further without your head exploding? That place where you feel as though your sanity is barely hanging by a string, and your toddler is holding the scissors (even though she's not supposed to have them) and it about to cut that string? I'M THERE!!!!" Send help.

La la la la

2010-03-01T13:54:00.000-08:00

Hello my friends! It's been a long while, I know. I've been fully emersed in the basement construction, not to mention the utter and often defiance of Little E, paired with the frequent and sometimes OVER the top dramatics of Miss A - PLUS my dear hubby being out of town rougly 3 to 4 days of the week and VOILA! I seem to have vanished.

I'm not sure where I've been. Physically I've been in this house, running through my regular routine, but mentally I've been drifting amiss a nameless la-la land. I've been more than a little scatterbrained lately, often questioning whether I might be suffering from early onset alzheimers. I'm fairly certain the latter is not true, but I'm not fully convinced I haven't lost a few marbles here and there. Ever feel that way?

So anyway, there's not a lot to catch you up on. It's been nonstop around here and we haven't even gotten to the busy season yet. Miss A is getting ready to start soccer and get this - I have been talked into coaching the team. Me. Mind you, I have no soccer or coaching experience. All I really know about soccer is to get the ball into the net without using your hands. My hubby has some experience and he is my assistant, but he will be out of town a lot so this poor group of six year olds will potentially suffer from a case of the blind leading the blind. Don't worry - I've been googling practice drills and educating myself a little. But really, isn't it more about just pointing them in the right direction at this point?!

I'm also teaching Miss A to play the guitar. It is her dream to be a rock star afterall, so it's up to me to do my best to make that happen (within reason), right? She's going to take piano and voice lessons soon - from a real teacher, so I'm not putting too much emphasis on the hard stuff. I bought a book that came with a CD and I'm doing my best to follow along and teach her the chords. Once again - the blind leading the blind.

Little E continues to test me. She is really into throwing these screaming, brain rattling fits these days. When she gets mad or even slightly displeased at something, she screams "NO!" at the top of her lungs. It may not even be applicable to the situation, the "no," but she says it anyway...repeatedly...and loudly. She then almost certainly hurls herself onto the floor in a very dramatic fashion and hits her head on the floor on purpose. It's ridiculous. On the flip side -she's also recently become very affectionate, which completely makes me forget the banshee acts. She comes up to me and places both hands on my cheeks and kisses me right square in the mouth. Insert, "awwww..." here.

So there you have it. A quick synopsis....although not entirely entertaining, rest assured...I'LL BE BACK!

When you gotta go....

2010-02-03T19:49:00.000-08:00

Little E is potty trained. Totally. Like she knows to go on the toilet and she tells me every time. With one exception. One big STINKY exception. She still poops in her pants at naptime. Mind you, she poops in the potty all the time. If it is during a time when she is not comfy snug in her bed - she happily goes to the bathroom.

So today I said to her, "That is so yucky and stinky and gross! You go in the potty every other time. Why don't you tell me you need to go poo-poo when you're in your bed?" And she said, "I not want to." I said, "But do you like to have poop in your pants?" She said, "I in my beg. (bed) I not want to go poggy.(potty) I juss go in my pul-yup." (pull up) And there you have it. She is lazy. She doesn't want to get out of bed when the urge strikes. I guess I really can't say I blame her. I mean, I have laid in bed many cold nights not wanting to get up and go pee. I will hold it until my teeth are floating just to avoid getting out of bed. So clearly, she is on to something. Don't want to get out of bed? No problem. Just poop your pants. Guess that's an option as long as I continue to put a pull-up on her when she goes to bed. But I'm so scared of the outcome if I don't...will she still poop her pants? Will she pee the bed? Or will she hold it knowing that there's nothing down there to catch it? DAMN! What do I do????

Mommy Confession #26

2010-02-02T11:55:00.000-08:00

I hate it when my kids are sick. I HATE it. I feel for them, I worry about them, and I would give my right arm to make them better. But I have to admit - the "can't return to school until fever-free for 24 hrs" rule, quite makes it nice for me to know that I can sleep in the next morning. Don't get me wrong, I want her to get better, and I will gladly wake up early to get her ready for school. I am quite over the nose wiping, the "cover your cough" and then sound of phlegm rattling through my house. But in the meantime, I am enjoying sleeping in. How's that for finding a silver lining?

TIRED = BLAH

2010-01-27T12:46:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have a day when you're just BLAH? Like, there's no good reason for it - you're not sad or mad or bored or lonely or frustrated....you're just "blah." Perhaps a little on the tired side. Or actually a lot on the tired side.

I am having such a day. We had a playdate this morning - which was great company with an awesome friend. (Although I am half convinced she implemented some kind of crazy voodoo while here because both of my children were crying dramatic messes as if under some kind of spell in the hour leading up to nap time.) I'm doing laundry, I organized the playroom (AGAIN) and my children are currently resting. So here I sit feeling rather like I would prefer to curl up on this couch and take a nap. I partially blame Little E for coming into my bed for the second night in a row. And I partially blame my husband for being away in a warmer climate in a posh hotel room by himself. But alas - here I am....BLAH. (and YAWN.)

So this brings me to the question - is it possible that we as mothers give so much of ourselves so constantly that we deplete the energy reserve that is meant for self? Because playing Polly Pockets and coloring don't exactly feel like physically demanding tasks. I don't exert THAT much energy when I'm cleaning the toilets. I don't even make my bed half the time. I operate at a pretty even keel most of the day - every stay-at-home mom can feel me when I say that it seems the work is never done. (and working moms can probably agree even more!) But while I keep busy all day, it's not as though I am really doing that much "heavy lifting" so to speak. I am constantly telling my husband he has no idea how exhausting it is to do what I do. But really, I can't explain why it's so exhausting some days. I just know that it is.

I admittedly could go to bed earlier. It's not like I stay up super late or anything, I mean if it's 11:00 and I'm not asleep I start to panic. My husband is always telling me to go to bed earlier. But what he doesn't understand is how magical those couple of hours are when everyone is sleeping but me. The silence is immaculate. The absence of someone tugging on my shirt is blissful. Having the remote in my hand with no one else's input is priceless. Just being me - not mom, not wife, not housekeeper...is golden. It's not that I don't love all those roles immensely. (Well, I could do without housekeeper.) But to be at everyone's mercy all the time also deserves a few moments now and then to not be. Don't you agree? So I stay up a little later to catch up on a show, or read a book, or yes, sit in front the computer.

So I estimate that I have approximately 17 minutes before one of my darling daughters comes bounding down the stairs - at which point I will immediately transform the BLAH into "what do you want to do this afternoon?" and cap it off with a huge smile because how can you not?! While I do enjoy the time they are resting, I love even more how excited they are to see me after a nap. Therefore I shall end this post and assume the most comfortable position this couch has to offer. Because I've no doubt my little ladies have all kinds of fun in store for me when they get up.