Telling one story for every 'polkadot' on my face.

Moving.

2011-02-09T15:20:00.000-05:00

If you are

HERE,

You need to go

HERE.

http://www.frecklefacedmama.blogspot.com/

Same Rambling, Same Awkwardness, Just a New Name on a New Blog.

Enjoy.

My Nugget

2011-02-04T17:37:00.000-05:00

My nugget turned 9 months today.
My nugget got 2 shots today.
My nugget has like 73 teeth coming in at one time.
My nugget is a little sick with some nasty cough and an infection in both ears today.
My nugget weighs 23 pounds.
My nugget is 30 inches right on the dot.
My nugget has a very large head. 97th percentile.

No matter how hard I try, the pediatricians never listen. All of my children have large heads, I have a large head, you should see my aunts head, my Pop Pop had the largest head of all! We have large heads. I have to pull with all my might to get turtle necks that are 2 sizes too big over their heads. They don't fit in the appropriate size hats for age. They don't even fit in their father's hats, (pin head). When Kendall puts on a head band it slowly rises up the size of her head until it pops off. I gave birth to those heads. I know quite personally how large those heads are. For some reason, the doctors always seem to think that there is something wrong with their heads. Well there is something wrong, it is extrememly large and I don't think they make fitted hats in my size. So what will we do about baseball hats for the boys?

I don't know.

But my big headed nugget is 9 months old. This people is almost older then how long he lived inside of me. He is growing and I do not like it, not one bit. He must stay small forvever. I tell you I think I am going to lose the battle with this one. I think he is going to be the largest of all. Big Foot. Sasquatch. But will always be my little nugget. And his cheeks, they kill me, they melt my heart. His eyes, big and blue, they make me swoon and never want to leave his side. He is not for sale.

One of those Days

2011-02-02T14:28:00.000-05:00

So my Monday rolled out like this.

Baby seems to have developed a fever the night before and the inability to sleep because of it.

I get out of bed because I didn't sleep, and start to get things together because the oldest needs to be at school, and the baby needs to be taken to the doctor, and the middle one needs to just go along with it all and stay happy.

Have I ever told you about Kendall in the morning? Most especially school mornings? She is a beast. I kid you not. You would think that you are asking a 17 year old adolescent who has been up until 4 am at a slumber party to get up at noon the following day to help with chores. The outcome is never short of what might occur at the end of the world. I can remember this feeling of not wanting to get up and everything in the universe being threatened against me. I also was 17 years old and up until who knows what time, doing, well things I will divulge of um, maybe later. Because after all we are speaking about my 4 or almost 5 year old daughter, ok? Now don't be silly and think I am going to let you know what I was doing all hours of the night at 17. I was an angel anyway.

Regardless of all of that, let's keep in mind that this child is only in preschool. We have 13 years ahead of us before she goes away to college and can choose not to pick 8 am classes. Let's keep in mind that she isn't up all hours of the night. Let's keep in mind that she does not yet have the freakish teenage hormones that require you to sleep all the time. So each morning I awake the beast, again and again, and again. And she will get up. I pay for this school, and she will go there and learn and she will be happy about it.

So this Monday like any other Monday, she would not get up, but on this Monday the baby is screaming his head off because he does not feel well, Ethan is screaming because he cannot hear his shows because the baby is screaming, and I am screaming because Kendall just put her head under the pillow and is still lying in bed. I then strip the blankets from her bed, open the blinds, and now she is screaming because she is more tired than any other day in her whole entire life, and I am the meanest Mom ever for not letting her just sleep. It's a scream fest all over the place, and it is awesome.

We somehow all manage to get dressed, we get baggies of cereal and head out the door, not before Stanley goes running out with them and jumps into the van. So now we are all in the van.We drive to school where there is no parking because of the piles of snow that was plowed into open parking spaces, and so I break all the rules and pull up to the sidewalk and put on my flashers. Rebel. All the preschool Mom's of the Year look at my wild self in complete horror for committing such a sin. When a terrible day comes upon us, we must do what we can to survive. I just smile and shuffle them in. I want to give a big props again for not having a drop off lane because I now have to get a sick child out and back into a carseat, a child who needs all of his guys in his arms before exiting and entering, and yell 'Stay,' to a dog that hardly listens, all while getting the student into the school hair kempt for 2.5 hours. This process would take 30 seconds without the extra cargo I have to take with me, but now it takes 15 minutes, and the baby is left screaming because I am jostling him and he is sick. He looks at me like, 'Don't you get it!??!!?! Leave me be, woman!!!'

So we get to the doctor, getting out of the car, Ethan, in typical fashion becomes impatient. He always becomes impatient when I am stressed, its like the triggers in me set off the triggers in him, and we are crabby patties all day. So he yells, 'Come on!' Which you guessed it, remember the extra passenger? Yup, jumps out of the van into the parking lot with his given cue, and proceeds to run around. Stan quickly realizes he has no idea where he is and panics and continues to run because he knows he has set me off. So baby screaming, in a parking lot with impatient 3 year old who just wants to get inside and push the buttons on the elevator and panicking dog who is instilled with flight instincts. Finally corner him in some bushes, now snow is up to my knees, filling my shoes.

We get in there. I ask about using potty in waiting room, of course not. We go back to the room, start to undress baby while Ethan attempts to get on examining table with him sending diaper bag, coats, and whatever else is in his way onto the floor. Baby screaming. Fever of 103.1. Rad. Ethan dangling off table trying to get up. Lift him up, grabs the wenis, proclaims he has to go pee pee real bad. So screaming baby in diaper, child running in circles holding wenis, find bathroom, go in, look at myself in mirror and gasp in horror. I look like I was run over by 32 tractor trailers. Seriously? It was bad. Child washes hands because that is what we do even though I tell him we will wait to get back to examining room because there is no paper towels. 'Don't worry Mommy,' child proceeds to come to me with wet hands and dry them, the dripping wet hands on my shirt. So now I look like I get hit by 32 semis in a rain storm.

Why do doctors take forever. Really? Really, why do you schedule me and make me wait 20 minutes, why not just schedule me 20 minutes later. Because having children in that small space with nothing to do for that long makes them crazy.

Dx: double ear infection with some crazy virus going on that is making him have some sores in his mouth. 'It's going around.' Must be nice to just say that and leave. So we get the order for the meds, baby is hungry and wants, 'ba-ba,' so we go out to the waiting room where they play movies. Of course today they are playing some stupidly boring movie that E has no interest in. No Toy Story, really? Grant me one blessing? No such luck. So I sit to feed the babe. The room smells of poop. I mean disgustingly smells of poop. It was making my stomach turn. And you know, you look around trying to find the culprit, you look at all the other parents, who like you, are smelling their child's butts. Then you zone in on the one mother who is too busy texting to smell her child's bum and you have found your answer. And you say to me well give her the benefit out the doubt, maybe she is updating her hubby on her kids status, maybe her house is on fire and she is telling her neighbor where the hose is, maybe, maybe, maybe not. She is smiling, laughing to herself, really self-immersed, and you can be like that sometimes. Sometimes you need to be like that. But not when your toddler has a ripe douce in his diaper that is smelling up the entire room. Ethan keeps pronouncing that it stinks, she keeps on texting. Then karma. Jake begins to toot. And not some polite little lift the leg and let out a little puff. It was like, lift both legs up, turn face red, tighten belly muscles, and let it rip for 30 seconds. And they kept coming and getting louder. I start to gather our things. Because if I am going to be that Mom that gets annoyed about a kid stinking up the waiting room and his mother not paying it any mind, then I need to be the Mom that gets up and leaves when her child is adding to the mix. Then just as the elevator door is opening, he lets is really rip, followed by the sweet sound of moisture being released, and then a sigh of relief comes from my child. And it smells ungodly. 'Mommy, this elevator stinks too, everything stinks in this place like poop!'

As we are exiting Ethan decides to run into a snow bank, gets his foot caught up and falls to the pavement. Awesome. So now I have got some skinned knees and a poopy diaper to clean up. We get into the van, shut the door to quiet our screams, and I apply band aids and turn to the stinker. I begin to change him and then realize that this poop, this one is similar to the one the other day. This poop is an explosion. I have no other clothes for him, and the only way to contain it is to keep it in. I place him into the car seat, apologize to both of my little men, crack the windows and turn up the heat.

To Target, getting prescription and milk. Ethan, beg, beg ,begging to look at toys. I say no, we have to go and get Kendall. He revolts. Have I mentioned my sweet little Ethan has found his individuality, his voice, his opinion. He chooses now to exercise this new thing. 'Nope, I am going to go and look at my toys, because that is what I want to do!' And proceeds to walk in the other direction head held high. I scoop him up, tell him I am sorry, but we do not have any time for this today. And we have a yelling protester and a funky smelling baby, never mind me, who looks like I have been hit by the 18 wheelers, remember? He proclaims for all of Target to hear, 'Well you know, I think you are the meanest Mom ever, so, so what?!?!'

We get to the school, parking again in my rebellious spot because it worked well as it could the first time, go in and get Kendall and as she is walking in my direction I see spots. She has red spots all over her neck. I get her out into the hallway, out down smelly baby, lift her shirt and they are all over her belly. Terrific. She gets these crazy hives every once in awhile and I have no idea what causes them. The doctor one time said that it might be the way her body expresses a virus, or something she is allergic to. And since it happens so infrequently we are not sure. All I know is that we have got spots, poop, and an angry middle child.

The poop is beginning to leak.

And this all would be great right if we could just go home, feed Spots and the Middle Child lunch with a movie, and put the babe in the tub, put him down for a nap, clean the carseat and laundry and call it a day. But I have to work at 3. So I take them all upstairs to my room, do what every great mom does in a crisis, and put on Sponge Bob. My kids would love to be able to watch Sponge Bob all the time but I don't let them because then we have crazy potty talk all day everyday for a week. But I need them quiet, I need them focused, I need to clean the baby, and I need to get things together. The baby gets a wipey bath, the kids get to watch 15 minutes of the show, they get lunch, I give the baby medicine and put him down for a well needed nap, shower, and I am out the door.

I drive to work to collect my thoughts. I am starting to settle and breathe.Then I smell something. Poop. The car seat is out of the car, sprayed down, where is it? I showered!?!?! But it is me, its my coat. The wet leakage went onto my coat. Typical.

One of those days.

One of those days I would have broken down and cried about had I not had a pity party this weekend. A night with the girls, to make the stories sound funny. To remind me that I am not alone. That they too are the meanest moms in the whole entire world. That their kids get spots and leak poop. And they do it all in one day also.

Details to follow.

The U-Haul is Here!

2011-01-21T11:31:00.001-05:00

There comes a time in life when one must separate itself from things of the past...

I really have no idea what I am talking about, just trying to sound intellectual. What is really going on is that within the next two weeks I will be moving to another blog site. Everything will be the same for you. My old posts are getting packed in boxes, the pictures are being put in tubs, all my links will be wrapped in plastic bubble wrap, we are all going over. Phew, you don't have to take some Xanax, calm it, breathe.

I hired these kids right out of 1992 to help with the move, the minimum wage was much much cheaper then, so you know. They have some good hairspray too.

The reason is quite simple. I now have 3 children. How bout that? We decided that he has passed the required tests and that we are going to keep him.

Not only that there are some new layouts that I really want to take advantage of, and you know everyone needs a change once in awhile.

If you are a follower of my blog, please head on over to the new place. Please be cautious as to where you walk, it is under construction, and things will be changing. However, there is a follower link on the page. On the right hand side there, right at the top.Please click on that and become a follower. If you are not a 'follower,' I want to encourage you to become one. Now keep in mind that this is not high school I still think that you are an individual...it's just a fancy title. I hope to start working on some giveaways, and so to do this, you will need to be a follower of my new blog...no pressure, just a bribe.

I hope that this move goes well, and please remember that you are welcome at anytime and yes, we do like casseroles.

So here it is, get your head start...I will be posting on both until I shut this baby down, but you will have plenty of warning.

CLICK HERE

And for those of you who just want to know the new name, you know if you want to google me or something stalkish like that. It's Freckle Faced Mama, cause you know, I've got some of those. www.frecklefacedmama.blogspot.com Pass it on. I promise to be just as random, just as embarrassing, and just as blunt as I usually am. Just making it my own. You know so it should look something like this:

I have no idea what is going on in this picture, but it looks just terrible. But it looks like the U-haul won, so they get our business.

It's Stanley's 3rd Birthday...he has a few things he would like to share.

2011-01-19T12:42:00.003-05:00

So I am 3 today. Let me tell you how fabulous that is.
They gave me a 'birthday' bath. Still the same bath, but with grape flavored bubbles, still torture, can't fool me dummies.

They say the sun is out, how fun I will have on my walk. There is still ice on the ground...do you know how terrible it is to walk on ice with bare feet just to find a place to pee?

They say it's Victoria's 7th Birthday and since she now lives in California, they are going to Disneyland...what is up with that? Did anyone ask me if I wanted to see Mickey on my birthday?
Missionary work my curled up tail...

They say they have a BIG surprise for me later. Unless it is free reign to chew the noses and eyes off of every stuffed animal and being able to chase the cat around until she passes out...they can keep their silly surprises.

You may wonder why I am so grouchy on my 3rd birthday.

Let's see...

1. I am not a girl
2. I am not a human
3. I look like a fool
4. Please come from Culver City and rescue me Charles...I can't bear the propped photos anymore!
5. You would be grouchy too.

Stop Laughing.

It's Coming...bring on the Pity...

2011-01-18T15:13:00.003-05:00

In less then 2 weeks, I will be hosting, The First Annual Pity Party. I kid you not. If you were not invited, don't feel sad, my little lab rats will let you know how it went, and hopefully, if all goes right, this event will become an annual event, hence the title.

The idea for a Pity Party has been sitting in my head for awhile now. I tell my offspring often when they are whining, cranky, all is wrong with the world, 'well let's just go and throw a pity party.' Such is the life of a mom. It is in no way for the light hearted or the weak hearted, it is just plain tough sometimes.And in throes of it, in your worst of days, because you will have them, someone could possibly turn to you and say, 'well why don't you throw a pity party.' Because it's easy to complain, it's easy to say, 'whoa is me,' it is easy to want to run away with a pint of ice cream and hide in a closet. It's easy to scream, 'But you don't understand they took away my sanity!!!'

And I will tell you what, during most of these moments if we would just stop and pick up the phone, type an email, meet up with a friend for a playdate, you will find that you are not alone. They too couldn't get the baby to, 'latch on,' they too have children who sass, they too have had snotty noses to wipe for months on end, they too have babies who won't sleep and just cry. They too have experienced poop explosions clean ups so many times that you swear you just smell like poop all the time, they too have the child who would much rather pee and poop in his or her pants instead of using the potty. They too have children who want to grow up too fast, they too have children wanting to hang out with their friends more than you. They too have felt at the end of the day like just crying because they were too hard on this one or that one, because they spent more time with this one over that one, they too have maybe made the wrong decision, disciplined and it didn't work. Because let me tell you what...your failures, your struggles, your experiences as a mom your friends gain. It's not all for nothing. And your failures, your struggles, your experiences as a mom can be easily fixed from the advice from another 'been there done that,' mama.

The Pity Party title is just to be funny. Because beyond it all, there is not a shadow of a doubt that this what we were meant to do, be mothers. This is what we love to do, be mothers. But admitting that it is tough, and escaping it all for just one night to sit back with your friends, other mothers, and eat dessert, and drink some big girl beverages is well deserved.

There will be silly games, and silly competitions, but beyond all that there will be a sense of camaraderie. A sense of another soldier along with you in the battle of motherhood. Lordy, we all love our kids, but if we come across as perfect, that our kids do no wrong, that we know all of the answers in regards to child rearing, we are fooling no one, not even the rugrats. What better way to connect with someone that over a story that we would typically cry about but instead turning it into laughter because the child getting into the vaseline in your bathroom at the end of the day when no one napped and tore the place apart and she smeared it all over her lovely locks leaving them greasy for months on end, and when you went in there for just a moment of peace you slid across the tile because it is so slick from the lube, and you land face to face with the mess that she is, is in fact funny when shared with a friend.

The Urban Dictionary provides the definition of a 'Pity Party,' as such:

Pity Party: A way of experiencing grief, in which you spend your time feeling sorry for yourself and whining endlessly about how crappy your life is.

Pity parties can be just for one or for many people, such as maybe your friends and close people, who will try to comfort you or just be there for you while you keep asking yourself what did you do to deserve whatever it is that made you so sad in the first place.

Pity Parties require the proper outfit, which is usually pajamas cause you don't get all dressed up during those feeling-sorry-for-myself moments. Also you should have no make up on or just the one from the night before; hair undone as well.
It also involves tissues, comfort food such as ice cream; chocolate; potato chips; cookies; cake; and candy. Low fat food is banned.

Alcohol might or might not be allowed (if alcohol makes you go wild, no alcohol should be brought to the pity party in that case since the point is not exactly to have fun). The purpose of a Pity Party is to dump the pity.

Music is also very important at pity parties, including songs like "One is the Loneliest Number", "All by Myself" and any other song that makes you feel like throwing yourself from the nearest cliff.

Pity parties usually end after you are done whining or if someone breaks it up. This will usually be a cynical loved one who will not let you drown in self pity and will take you either to have the best time ever, drinking and partying or will just make you crawl out of bed by making you see how pathetic you look and how you should cut the whining and just do something to make things better.

I must laugh...because although there will be some comfort food, and a little friendly competition for the best 'war story,' none of this will take place...well the pajamas bit...that does sound like a bit of fun. What better then an expanding waist band when you are eating dessert after dessert and sipping beverage after beverage from the Hot Chocolate Bar?...yup I did say, Hot.Chocolate.Bar...mmmm...yummy...

But it's the idea of it. Because sometimes as moms we are so afraid to complain about it, so afraid to admit that children can get the best of you, so afraid to admit that hey sometimes I have bad day...sometimes we want to throw a Pity Party, and this party is to remind us as we will look around the room, that we aren't alone, and with that we will promptly take another bite of the Red Velvet Cake, and sit back and relax by the fire...knowing that we don't have to worry about it tonight. They can wipe snot anywhere they want, they can eat candy to their hearts content, because this party goes way past bedtime.

...And I can't wait.

**Details of the above said party will follow, but please take note that this is a private party with very very serious matters to discuss...and so not all information...what was that special sauce in the hot chocolate per se, will be up for grabs. Apologies...but not really, in advance.**

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Darling

2011-01-14T14:39:00.003-05:00

There are those that I am close with that have their beautiful first child. They are beaming from head to toe on most occasions...I really just think this is pure insanity from lack of sleep. Seriously. The brain does some pretty whacked out stuff when it is sleep deprived, putting on a continual smile of elation is one of those things...you are going crazy, it's just the beginning, don't try to fight it.

In this point of mental health absurdity, they will turn to me and ask...so do you think it is easier to have them close together? Now that I have done both, which is the easiest. 'Honey, it ain't easy, no matter what way you slice, now stick with your one cause you just had to have it, and call it a day.' No, I would never say that, never ever, well on a bad day I might start...ok, no I would never say that, that's just terrible.

But Lordy, remember those Saturday mornings, you could just roll out of bed when you wanted to and just do whatever? Now we are awoken at 6 am by someone demanding waffles and juice in your one ear, another childs foot in your other ear from wandering into your room at 3 a.m., 'oh this place looks so much more cozy, let me go and give them a wretched nights sleep.' And then a baby, sitting on top of you with pee leaking out of his diaper through his sleeper, onto you. Then its go time. It's awesome. Sometimes I make them look out the window when we get downstairs. I ask, 'hey look out there, what's going on out there?' They will stare, squint, look up and down the road, then answer, 'um, nothing.' And I will pronounce, 'Exactly! Now can someone tell me why we are not doing the same exact thing?' 'Um...can we watch our shows?'

If you didn't read the back story, I went and got myself knocked up with Ethan when Kendall was 4 months old. I have said it before, it was God's little practical joke on me. 'You begged and begged...now have at it.'

So do I think its just grand to have them this close together? I will be honest and say that during the first year it is rough. One is doing one thing, the other catches up, only to have the oldest moving on to the next. This is across the board developmentally, intellectually, and just for plain every day life, like playing toys. For instance, Ethan would want a bottle, just as I was finishing that Kendall was hungry, and you have to watch a 13 month old eat, then Ethan would want a nap, and Kendall would want a book read...it is constant busyness all day. One is walking, one is mad he can't move around. But then one day you turn and they are playing together, they are entertaining each other and you can get something done. This is its plus' and minus'. If one doesn't want to do it, chances are the other isn't going to want to either. If one is going to the store with you, well the other one wants to come too. If one won't eat mashed potatoes, the other one won't either. They are also each other's best friend and worst enemy. They can play together for hours and one wrong look and the one is socking the other in the gut.

They will always love to be the one in my favor if the other is in trouble. 'Oh Mommy, I will help you with that,' while the other sits punished on the step for not helping me clean up. But now since Ethan is getting it, catching onto nuances, phrases, the way people act for certain reasons, it's an open playing field with Mommy dearest.

Kendall, for reasons I will not divulge in, is under punishment, and she is not permitted to watch her beloved channel; 5-5. It's 55, the Disney channel, but she says it like she has to punch it into the remote, five, five. I told her that the amount of time this is under punishment for, depends on her behavior. As I was doing the dishes this afternoon, she came up to me and asked if she could watch 5-5. I told her that.' one day is not enough to prove to me that you can behave well enough to be able to watch 5-5, please continue with your good behavior and we will see about tomorrow.' Ethan then saunters up to me and says, 'you know Mommy, Kendall has been having some good behavior, and I think that if she is being nice to you, you should be nice to her.' I replied, 'Uh, thanks for the input pal, I will take that into consideration.' He then saunters away over to Kendall, and in a low voice says, 'Kendall, I told Mommy that you were being a good girl, and she should be a good girl too, so maybe she will let you watch 5-5 in a little bit. Mommy said that she is going to take it to sideration' Can I stay in sideration, are you allowed naps while you are there?

So needless to say, the defending of the other has begun. This is certain to go on for the rest of their lives. Because being that close in age is just that, close. You are going to run into the same things, the same wants, the same issues with Mom and Dad, the same social circle, etc, and in the end, it is best, they will find, to be a united front. This can be a fabulous thing. It can also be terrible for me, as you can see as evidenced by Ethan's plight to stand up to his Mama, his beloved Mama, for his sister.

So is it easier to have them close in age? That close? 13 months apart?

To each his own. Why are they asking me anyway? I still smile with insanity.

“If you treat a sick child like an adult and a sick adult like a child, everything usually works out pretty well” ~ Ruth Carlisle

2011-01-12T15:54:00.005-05:00

As I lay encircled in tissues like I am doing some seance to the gods of mucinex, I started to really think about the sheer reality of these colds we have had. It is as though someone took a large vat of snot, hooked it onto a helicopter and then dumped it onto our home. Because seriously, I have been surrounded by snot. Surrounded by cold symptoms. Surrounded isn't even a good word, because it has overtaken me also. We have been invaded. So much so that it is almost like second nature to have some snot dripping down your nose and instead of listening to the sweet slumber of slight snores, I am invaded by post nasal drip coughs.

The 4 year old with the post nasal drip and the wacked out hair, somehow they go together.

Our lips are chapped, ours ears are itchy. We have been coughing at each other as a means of communication. "Cough three times if you want a cough drop, four for some peppermint tea."

This time of year is just terrible. Germs. I seriously walk around with Lysol with bleach in a holster. You sneeze, I am spraying everything in your general vicinity.

Our noses are raw from blowing and we smell of Vapor Rub.

The three year old with the chapped face. He put lotion on it last night with his little palms and it reminded me of that scene in Home Alone when McCauley Culken is putting the after shave on his face and it begins to sting. It was a tragedy at it's finest.

But I tell you when something invades our home, like a cold. I like a freakin storm trooper going into battle. I focus in on it and go to town. I know just what angle to tilt the head and neck so that the post nasal drip does not irritate all that bad. I know where to position the humidifier so that the person benefits the most from its steam. I know where to put the vapor rub. I know at what point the child needs to be taken into the bathroom with the shower going at its hottest temperature encasing us in steam(by the way this is really good for the pores). I watch the color of snot, and I think now that it is back to clear it might be moving out, snot phases from clear to yellow to green back to yellow and then clear again. Consistency of snot varies too. From thin to thick to paste and back again. You know, no need for WebMd, I got you covered.

The 8 month old teething child who presently seems to be at the tail end of this one...as evidenced by clear snot and a smile.

Andy's son, because he is certainly not mine when he does things like this, has now taken to creative ways of wiping his nose to spice things up a bit. Some kids find their sleeves handy. E finds just about anything absorbent fair game. Like your pillow. Like a stuffed animal. Like the cat. Like the carpet. It's disgusting, I completely agree with you. Now how do you think I feel. "Ethan, if you wipe your nose again on the carpet you are in timeout. " Seriously? Who raises these animals? FYI: Look before you touch, snot looks like glue when it has dried, has that sheen to it, typically, two long streaks of it. Please let me know about it, so I can blast it.

And that throat tickle. You know the one. You used to get them in school, during class. You don't want to cough and draw attention to yourself and spew germs all over, but that tickle, it won't stop. So you let out a little cough, it does no good. Your eyes are now watering. You try to constrict your throat muscles and release in hopes of getting the itch. No luck. You let out a little bit more of a cough and all h-e- double hockey sticks breaks loose. Your face is bright red, you are hacking, you raise your hand, the teacher looks at you like you have four heads, can't she see you need to rush into the hallway, to the nearest water fountain, to hack at the top of your lungs??!?! Instead she makes you ask. So you are coughing, eyes watering, face bright red, sputtering out key words, everyone is looking at you like you are some hacking freak, and you make a bee line to the door. FREEDOM! Or was that just me that happened to? I don't know. But whenever you have that cough it comes at the worst of times it seems...in the middle of church, in line at the store, at the movies, it's terrible.

Did I mention colds suck?

What is worse is the stomach bug. Now if I know you have the stomach bug I will avoid your presence until it has run its course. I'm sorry. Because worse then snot, worse then the throat tickle, worse then living in a pile of tissues, is vomiting. It is probably the worst thing ever, well besides the pain of a living thing coming out of your hoo-ha, but that at least as a wonderful end result. When I am puking I get the cold sweats, my fingers tingle, it is the worst, mostly because I hold back. I lie on the cold bathroom floor when I in the throes of vomiting. It's comforting, and it's clean, I know so, personally.

I fear vomiting. Is there a diagnosed phobia for that? Kids have it good. They need to throw up, they do it, they move on, as if no one is the wiser. They don't really even have to think about it because they have no idea what is happening. On sick days they get to vomit, watch all the movies they want, vomit some more, suck on some Popsicles, vomit, play a quiet game with Mommy, and then it is all better. I seriously act like I am in the midst of a total body take over by aliens who want to push all of my insides out in both directions. I can't talk, I can't focus, I can't think straight for fear that it might make me vomit again.

It is inevitable. One night someone in this house will wake up vomiting. Why do you vomit first at night? And then it will go and attack, victim after victim, and I will lie in bed with each one of them, defeated. But until then, I will do all I can to avoid it. If I find out you had it and I was just with you, I panic. Last week my husband brought a child to my house from a home that had the stomach virus in it. 'You brought a carrier here.' I love this child with all of my might, but he is a carrier. He then informed me that he had driven another friend home from where he was because this friends wife had gotten sick and had to leave. In my van, a carrier, in my van! Because once you know you were exposed every time you feel a little funny you are convinced you have the bug. I thought twice about eating tacos last week because if I was going to throw up that night, I didn't want it to be spicy. How nice to have that luxury.

And I don't care that you think I am overly paranoid. Like you like to go ahead and puke. Like it's nothing. Right.

So in the season of germs, know I have snot on my carpets, know that I love you and all but if you or someone in your home has vomited in the past week, we can stick to communicating via phone or internet. I will pay you the same respect when it comes here.

Go gather your hand sanitizer, your lysol, your ginger ale, cough drops, and tussin. We are in it for the long haul. Spring...Spring? Where are you?

'THAT' Toy

2011-01-04T10:57:00.008-05:00

If you have kids you have got one. You dread it coming out. You dread the fiasco it causes. You dread the mess it leaves behind. It's 'that' toy. The toy that you have no idea why you have it, but you do because what is life without this toy? They beg of you to let them play it and after you put it off for days and days it becomes impossible to put off, for after all you allow this toy in your home, and you seriously would be a terrible mother if you did not let them play with it.

My culprit...Play Doh.

I cringe a bit when my children ask to play with it. The pieces, the little speckles of doh left all over the table top, the floor...it's horrifying.

I have such great intentions surrounding Play Doh, I purchase the supplies for them. Opps, nevermind, error, Santa brings the supplies for them. Each time I, he, whatever, decides to put it under the tree and in the stockings, I say to myself, 'Look how fun it is, a burger maker, an ice cream sundae shop, a pop corn maker, the press that releases strings and strings of doh, it will surely bring them such excitement, live a little, it's just play doh.'

And it would be grand, but it is also extremely frustrating. Do they do a test run? They must. You know, putting children in a room surrounded by the new toy enabling them to use it and play with it, and then asking them how they like it. Are they using children with super human strength and patience? Can I meet them? Because if you play with play doh with your children you will know that those press things are nearly impossible for a child. You have to manipulate a huge chunk of play doh into a little itty bitty space, and then you have to press down on a lever that does not budge for them, and then there are tears of frustration because they just cannot do it themselves. Thanks Play Doh.

Then there are the teeny tiny molds you can put the play doh in and they are supposed to become these teeny tiny cutest little things ever to put on your play doh burger...yeah right. Again, I repeat, children cannot do this. Well children of the appropriate age for Play Doh. And the mixing of all the colors and shapes after one use. Why do they even bother? Green will never be just green again after the first use, it takes on shades of brown, pink, blue, much like what I find in Jake's diaper...ok, so not the butterfly, but that would be a nice surprise one day.

What piece I detest the most is the sprinkle thing for the sundae shop. Seriously? The child is supposed to crank a knob with one hand, after cramming play doh into a little tiny space again, while the other hand is supposed to hold the 'ice cream cone,' to gather the sprinkles on that are flying everywhere but onto the 'ice cream.' These tiny little pieces only adding to the wonderful mess.

I am about to suggest to Play Doh that they put a warning on their boxes it is only fair, they do it for cigarettes. Wait for it, I am going to tie the two together. The Marlboro Man does in fact warn people that smoking will in fact kill them in an untimely miserable and painful death...just a friendly reminder to all those smokers out there.Play Doh, has also for sure shortened my life span due to the high blood pressure and rapid heart beat that overcomes me when my children are melting into a crumpled tantrumming mess on the floor because they can't get the play doh to come out of the press because the play doh that was left in there from last time has become a hard rock refusing to budge blocking all fun and play doh spaghetti noodle making. No, I'm serious. So a warning would be nice. Because, man it does look like tons of fun, it's cool and all the kids are doing it, but oh the problems it causes are day ruining life changing. We are talking about me on all fours with a little tiny knife willing the playdoh out of the little slats in the wood floor that it has smooshed itself into.

After days of begging, of suggesting we play Play Doh, I must give in. I mean it is there, what fun am I if I don't let them play with something that seems as harmless as Play Doh? What a fool I am, and Play Doh creators love me for it. I think this time they are a little older then last time, a little stronger, a little more tolerant, I mean they let Jacob pull their hair and slobber all over them and don't even make a peep to object, they are more mature. And look at this new toy for playing with Play Doh that Santa brought, surely they will LOVE it. It doesn't matter. Play Doh brings out the worst in every child. I am 100% convinced.

Not only that here are some words of wisdom to all of you Play Doh novices: It is a proven fact that Play Doh takes longer to set up, then they actually play with it before there are meltdowns and plastic pieces flying everywhere. And apparently, according to Ethan and his expert palate, 'Play Doh does not taste bad, it's just a little too salty, like boogers.' Good to know.

What's 'that toy' for you?

Why I Love 3 Year Olds...

2010-12-28T13:28:00.001-05:00

Ethan is now at an age where he just says the funniest, randomest, and cutest things. Lord, I love this little man. LOVE HIM.

His Christmas Miracle came in the form of the Batcave and Batmobile from Santa, and all the little Batman guys to go along with it from his sister Kendall. He loves this thing and has spent his every waking moment playing with it or playing with it next.

My friend Sue was over last night playing with him and his Batcave because if you want to interact with him at all right now, you must play Batcave, and then you can be BFF's.

She said that they were loading up the Batmobile with Batman and she said to him, 'Let's put Robin in there with him since Robin is his sidekick and rides with Batman.'

She said that he turned to her and said, 'No, Robin laid an egg.'

Hilarious.

No seriously...hilarious.

Do you get it? Seriously. If you need the help...

Since Ethan is obsessed with all things superhero we would sing to him, 'Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg. The Batmobile lost its wheel and the Joker got away, Hey!'

We are that childish...it's fun sometimes. Apparently he now thinks that Batman smells also, and the Batmobile is prone to losing a wheel, and that the Joker is a sly little fellow.

Love it.

Why I Love 4 Year Olds

2010-12-22T22:14:00.005-05:00

pitter, patter, pitter, patter...they take their turns.

They love to come into my room after we have snuggled them all up with their supplies.

Water? Check? Peed?Check? Books? Check.

There is always something.

Tonight Ethan was, 'scared.' Impossible. His room in lit up like a freakin holiday light show spectacular. The smelly dog is in bed with him, and I made sure that he had his blankie and batman right up around him so that he is 'safe.' Not only that my light is on in my room and I was standing in the hallway in plain sight loading the washer. Back to bed!

Thump...

Next One.

The Morning Look, love it, because it is actually worse than mine, and that is tough.

'Uh Mommy, I can't sleep, Stanley is snoring too loud.''Uh, Kendall, I hate to break it to you, but there is Stanley, in your brothers bed chewing on a stuffed animal.' (the dog now has a terrible fetish with chewing the eyes and noses off of stuffed animals, its heart breaking)

K: Oh well, can I just stay in here with you? I promise I will go right to sleep, as she zones into the tv.

Me: Nope

K: Well then I am going to read my books. (she makes big threats)

Me: That's fine, that's why I put them next to you.

K: I am going to go ahead and read a million books!

Me: Ok, have fun!

K: No, a thousand books!

Me: Even better

K: Then 21, 22, 23...

Me: Now you're talking

K: You'll be sorry, 25 books! I am going to read actually 20,30 books. (this is her number for 30)

Me: Ok, but that's alot of reading

K: I know, that's why I should stay here with you.

Me: Nope, I would rather you read, it's good for you, you will get a scholarship to college someday with those brains

K: Well I don't want these brains, why did you give them to me, all I want is no brains and to sleep with you.

Me: I'm sorry, it's going to be a tough tough road...now go to bed, brain surgeon

K: That is terrible, I am not going to be a sturgeon, that's a fish.

Me: My point exactly.

Sleep Tight.

Home Goods Holiday Spenditure

2010-12-21T10:48:00.015-05:00

**Prefacing this post with the fact that Blogher...which is a truly awesome land of bloggingness that I am a part of, and Home Goods store which I am about to go on and on about because I forgot just how wonderful it is, are the sponsors of my wonderful shopping trip I am about to blog about.**

So me and my sistah decided on Saturday early afternoon that I needed to spend the gift card that I had received from BlogHer, from Home Goods, cause I blog for Blogher and they picked me; nanny nanny boo boo. Ok, so that was a little ridiculous, but I was super excited to be a recipient like they gave me thousands of dollars to spend; which if in fact they do want to go ahead and do this, I would be more than happy to shop again at Home Goods.

So we had a holiday party to be at that started at 3, so of course, in typical fashion we need to cram as much as we can possibly do into one day. So we headed out to Home Goods.

Once I walked over the threshold of this store I remembered just how much I love it. Now it is like a giant upscale flea market. Things are in designated areas, i.e., housewares, frames, furniture, bedding, kids things, I could go on and on, but the bargains are such that you can just not believe it. And it is random things, things you never thought you needed be now really really do, typical to being at a flea market, yard sale, so on and so forth, you know what I mean.

Now with three small children, I don't get a whole lot of time, if any, to just go random shopping, like Home Goods is perfect for. I need to know exactly what I am getting, how much it is going to cost, where it is located in the particular store, and get my fanny in and out of there before there is any time for major meltdowns, because you give them that time they will pull out all their tricks.

So being able to do this on Saturday was just splendid. I stripped my arms, waist, and mind of the children, and marched right to the store, I had a job to do...thanks for the awesome excuse. I highly recommend it. This was my Toy Store, my Amusement Park; I was a kid in a candy shop, all wide eyed. I seriously probably could have very well been committed if I verbalized just how excited I was, because it just isn't normal. And since I wanted to spend the hour or so I had in the store and not in the Psych Unit, I composed myself like I get to shop aimlessly without a care in the world all the time. I don't get out much, can you tell?

It is a store filled with things right up my alley. It is the perfect place to find a gift for a certain someone. I know, I sound like an advertisement, and in all honesty, I was given a gift card to do some holiday shopping there, but that is not why I am writing this review. You need to get yourself there, pronto. Most especially if you are redecorating a room in your home, need a gift for someone, just need to shop and aren't really sure what you really need. You will find something there.

For Blogher I posted my pics through Flickr, but I am more then willing to go ahead and post them here for you, my faithful readers. I gave you some gift ideas and you also get to see my super excited sister and also what I ended up getting with the gift card...I know, the excitement is just killing you.

So without further ado...

Willy Wonka's Overstock

Similar to my husband who purchased a GIANT tub on Double Bubble on an impulse, because our kids like gum.( Looks like he might grow real fond of dental bills), it looks like some buyer went a little crazy with the gumballs. This is to the Home Goods Shoppers delight. There is seriously every freakin flavor of gumball you could imagine. Mango, Plum, Kiwi, Coconut.
And there was green apple. I love me a green apple gumball.

See those ones on the bottom right hand corner? Those would be some sweet, literally, stocking stuffers. $3.99. That's 4 bucks for some gourmet gumballs.

The jars would be a cute little idea for a coworker with a desk, you know so if you are a like a mailman, maybe not so much. But you know if you are looking for something small for someone just to let them know, 'Hey listen, Have a Merry Christmas,' this would be a pretty decent little gift.

The jars of gumballs varied by size, but none were more than $10. Who doesn't want something fun on their desk to give out to visitors, clients, coworkers, your boss? It might just save you your job. That boss of yours might be coming in your office to give you the old heave ho, he pops in gourmet gumball to wet his whistle, and since it is just that good he thinks, 'this creep deserves a second chance.' I don't know, but it could happen.

It is also good for when you are having a pretty crap shoot of a day, just reach in that jar that sits upon your desk and just pop one in, blow some bubbles, it's really not that bad after all.

You don't have to pay me for these gift ideas, it's on the house. Thank Home Goods.

The Rainbow Connection

I happen to be in the market for a new tea pot. I really like bright colored pieces that just pop in an otherwise dull area, like a stove top.

Let's face it, metal tea pots do not last forever. They get all funky with the minerals from the water, some get rusty over time. No one wants a rusty glass of mineral tea. This is what mine had become...10 years later.

These are just cute. Their little pot belly look just wants you to get your favorite mug, a friend, and some muffins. I enjoyed both of these. They were $24.99.

Know someone who needs a tea pot? Grab one of these, get some flavored teas, maybe some freshly baked muffins, and voila! Perfect Present!

Excuse Me?

I get weak in the knees when I see a set of dishes that are just so wonderful. Like these. These are wonderful to me. I love accent pieces that match in some way but aren't matchy matchy, like the pitcher, the mugs with the flowers, and those square plates. Excuse me? Square plates. Love.

See that little serving piece with the ribbon? Remember that...I am in love with them. That one up there on the back shelf is $7.99.

Look at those little bumps on the edges of the plates, and the little creasing detail on them, and the imperfections that make it unique. I looked at my sister and she immediately asked, 'can you register here?'

I don't know. But I would think not. The purpose of Home Goods is deals on overstocked items from really great stores, and that is what makes them so great. Their turnover is fast, so if you like something, scoop it up, you can't afford not to.

If I had had the cash flow you know, like 6 days before Christmas to indulge, I would have indulged her in these. When you add up all the prices of each piece they are clearly cheaper then any set you would get elsewhere for this quality.

Just sit and stare at them. Go grab yourself some coffee. Go to Home Goods and get them. So, so wonderful.

Bowl of Excellence

Who does not like a decorative bowl? Raise your hand. And at that, who does not like a nice clean and crisp white bowl that goes with everything?

This one is a little special due to its shape and it's nice ripple edge. This would have gone to my sister Michelle because she too appreciates a nice decorative bowl.

$10. Yup.

Gift Idea for this baby: Fill this sucker up with some candies. Who does not like some candy on the holidays? Yummy. Or fill it with those clear glass rocks...now follow me....and get a gift card to a specialty grocery store, somewhere fancier then your neighborhood food store, and stick it in there with those rocks so they hold it and make a fancy presentation. This way they can go there and get some ingredients to make something to serve in this bowl. Nice little hostess gift if you do stuff like that. Or a sweet little gift for someone who likes to host parties, or just cook in general. Or just for someone who likes a decorative bowl, and candy.

Explosion of Cuteness

We turned down this one aisle of housewares, we spent alot of time in housewares since I am obsessed with housewares, I could walk around in there all day long. In my head I am planning parties, themes, what we will eat, what I will place on each plate, what I will fill each giant glass jar with. Seriously it was sensory overload. I could have spend hundreds of dollars brought it all home, sat it all around me and just stared at it all for hours, completely elated.

Now they had these little cake plates in all shapes and sizes with all colors of polka dot ribbon intertwined in the lattice edge. Immediately in my head I had them stacked up, largest to smallest crowned with beautifully decorated cupcakes for a tea party.

This plate was $10. I don't make these things up.

Gift Idea: You know someone who likes to make cupcakes? Or wants to like to make cupcakes? Get this plate, get some cake mix, get some sprinkles and some fanciful cupcake pan liners, and if you really want to get all creative get them one of the books, 'Hello Cupcake', or the new one, 'What's new Cupcake?', or both, and you know just put it all together, with that clear gift wrap, gather it at the top with a big fat ribbon, and then maybe tie on the outside a spatula or something thrown in there for flare. I like flare. This would be a perfect holiday, birthday, or wedding shower gift. Go at it.

Pitcher

Who doesn't like a Pitcher? People here in Philadelphia like a certain pitcher by the name of Cliff Lee, but if you really aren't into sports like me, then you like this type, or maybe you don't, and that is fine, but you still have to read about mine.

The one on the left is 10 bucks. 10 bucks, no lie. This one would have gone to my mother in law. I can picture her filling it with her iced tea. Are you like me? Do you look at an object, know who you would give it to and immediately know all of the accessories you would give with it? I would have filled the pitcher with lemons, gotten some boxed iced tea bags of different flavors, gotten one of those clear plastic wrapping things that you gather over the object, gotten a big old piece of ribbon and tied it at the top and sat it on her lap. She would LOVE it.

The one of the right, I think that was $15. Had I chosen this, it would have gone to my Mom Mom. She too likes herself a pitcher to fill with a cool drink or some wildflowers in the summer, and yellow just happens to be here favorite color. For a gift I would have gone and gotten her a real cheap poinsettia, clipped the stem and flower off and filled this pitcher with them, and tied a big fat red ribbon around the middle. Merry Christmas Mom Mom.

Feel free to take any of my ideas...I got your back this holiday season.

Because I like Orange & Coffee Mugs

Recently my favorite coffee mug was broken by an undisclosed rugrat who frequents my home. Well, he lives here. My husband mocked me saying I shouldn't have had it out around them if I didn't want it broken. I'll remember that, that's a clever little retort that makes no sense. It was out because I drink coffee in my favorite coffee mug, I wasn't going to make a shrine around it.

This mug is pretty cute.Most especially for $2.99 I really like random pieces in my dishware. It really makes having a dinner party a bit of a mismatched sloppy mess, but I am ok with that.

And I really like the color orange. I wish I were brave enough to paint a room in my house orange. But I'm not.

The Fanciful Disguised Hookah Pipe

Now this is very clever. This hookah pipe disguised as a tea pot. 'No Mom, we were just getting ready to have some tea...you sit in a circle with all of your friends and pass around the tea pot, and we all have some sips, I'm not hallucinating, it is walking around on it's own, it has four feet.'

It is, um, creative for a tea pot, because that is really what it is, duh, I know that. There is a whole shelf full of them, see? This one was my favorite though, given that it was four feet with these really cool boots on.

Johnny?

I want to know when Johnny Weir got his own holiday themed doll? Is it because he now judges on 'Skating with the Stars?' I also want to know who wants a Johnny Weir holiday doll sitting on their mantel. Go ahead, comment, I will lead you to one right away, because I want to meet you. (you know this isn't really him, right? But doesn't it look just like him? I don't want all you Johnny lovers running to Home Goods and asking for the Johnny Weir holiday doll, and I also don't want Johnny upset thinking he missed out on some cha ching.)

Oh Afternoon Delight

We rounded the corner, our cart filled with goods to make a decision on. We just wanted to take a peek at the little girl holiday dresses, that's all, it was innocent, no ulterior motives. And what should our wondering eyes see? We then saw the circular rack of these lovelies and the cart was abandoned, the decision was made. Kendall, my daughter, was now the recipient of the blessed gift card expenditure. What a lucky girl. I wish they had it in my size. Well...ok...maybe just to wear around the house...or like maybe to a party. Hello, Cyndi? Cyndi Lauper is this from your closet?

Ta Da!

Now this is the ghost of fashion's past holiday gift to my fashionista daughter. No lie. Look for the skirt. She will be wearing it everywhere we go for the next year, yet we will never tire of it. It is that great.

Knee Highs, Baby

Knee Highs, funky knee highs at that. Who doesn't like a pair of funktified knee highs to go with their tulle skirt? I can't think of one person. It's that fabulous.

The Eager Assistant

***She will want me to state that for the record there is no make up on her face and her hair is not done in this photo...she is this beautiful all on her own.***
My sister. Wondering why she endured this shopping experience with me and got nothing from me for her out of it. It's terribly unfair, I think she wanted a tulle skirt too.

So there you have it. I went out for this spenditure without my cling ons and came out purchasing something for one of them.

All of that can be yours for $25 and under...go crazy.

Chub in a Tub

2010-12-16T00:22:00.005-05:00

I love chubby babies.

I love rolls, I love indents, I love when the big fat belly just rest on the thighs when they are sitting. I love droopy cheeks, and I love when their little rolls looks like marshmallows all stacked up on top of one another.

Another one of my favorite things is bathing one of my babies in the kitchen sink. It's perfectly made for the little sitter. It's also perfectly made for my back since leaning over a bathtub is not one of its favorite activities. Another Mama Silent Woe. We lean over the tub because we need to bathe our children. We don't ever say a darn thing about it because what is there to say about it? It needs to be done.

Usually by the time I get up close to the tub to scrub them down there is a nice puddle or flood, if you will, on the bathroom floor surrounding the tub that I for some reason continually forget about leaving me with soaking wet pants. Then for another strange reason I become completely soaked like I am in some wet tee shirt contest that I would never ever win. Because let's face it, my hair is stacked on my head in some pony tail that is held together by a silly band I passed on the way into the bathroom. I am in an over sized tee shirt that says, 'Life is Simple. Eat.Sleep.Bowl.,' because I go bowling all the time? I have mascara running down my face from the flogging I have endured while bathing these beasts, and I am in yoga pants that are soaked, looking like I peed myself. This is not your champion.

Oh but then there is the rollie pollie ollie in the sink.

His fat just plops into the drain becoming a suction that keeps him in the sitting position quite well. That is my new invention. Little holes in cushions that with a switch become somewhat of a vacuum and hold the teetering newly sitting baby in place. It will also hold the child wanting to move and crawl and their mama isn't quite ready for it in place as well. My disclaimer is that the child must be diapered, otherwise they will have this permanent ring on their bum for the rest of their lives.

Please stop growing so fast my little meatball. You will outgrow the sink. You will cause my aching back more pain. You will start give me a hard time, you will start to walk and talk soon. Stay my little wuzzle just a wee bit more.

O' Tannenbaum

2010-12-10T16:34:00.012-05:00

Whenever I attempt to do something that is essentially continuing on a tradition or starting a new one for our little family, the song, 'Tradition,' from the musical, 'Fiddler on the Roof,' blares through my head. And if you know the song it is a very angry song about family traditions, and isn't that sometimes the way though? We sometimes do these things because we did them last year, the year before, because your grandparents did it, and so did the immigrants who brought your family to America, now stick with it, they rode on a rickety old boat for months, the least you could do is keep the traditions going!

'Who must know the way to make a proper home, a quiet home, a kosher home?'

Christmas tends to bring this out of us. We must do it this way! I am a big tradition follower and also making them on our own for our little family. I look back on Christmas and there are things growing up that consistently happen every Christmas, and if it doesn't well it just doesn't feel the same. It's a rigid way to celebrate the holidays, I know, but you have to to what you have to do.

I can remember when I was really young we went to church where our entire family went to church because that is where you went to church. Each year we would have the Christmas Nativity. One year I was even Mary and got to ride a donkey. That is something. As Kendall says it, I was, 'Mary, the Mother of Jesus.' This is how she refers to her. Joseph is Joseph and the Wise Men, the Wise Men, but Mary, she is Mary the Mother of Jesus. She must have loads of respect for her, as we should.

Anyway, as I was saying, each year we would reenact this on Christmas Eve for the children's service that they have. Each year we would have sugar cookies and milk during the service. I don't know, I don't know why this correlates to the Nativity and Christ's birth but, I would seriously break all out in these cold sweats, stomach turning. I would get all anxious knowing and thinking I had to eat these cookies, like they were communion bread and wine. The milk was warm, whole, milk, almost curdled and the cookies were so sickly sweet that my teeth just wanted to rot right there on the spot. I would go to bed sick every Christmas Eve praying that I wouldn't barf because that is terrible to be barfing when Santa is coming. When we went to a new church and just held candles and didn't have to drink the dreadful cookies and milk on Christmas Eve I sang the Christmas Hymns at the top of my lungs, so joyous, Hark those Herald Angels! But it was tradition, and every Christmas Eve I think of that milk and cookies, it will never leave me and I puke a little in my mouth.

So we do many traditions with the offspring around the holidays. Hopefully I will get to share a bit of them with you as we go through it, we'll see, you never know who is going to go and have an all out bad day threatening a butt load of coal to be expressed delivered, and enabling me to not get a thing done and therefore not post.

So you must start with decorating, who does not decorate every room in their house? Yes, I am an overzealous decorating fool who does indeed decorate her children's rooms stringing lights around head boards and little knick kancks here and there. Sugar.Plums.Dancing.In.Heads.
We recently went to obtain a Christmas tree with the children. It happened to be frigid that day. But you know, according to tradition, we must get out there, get ourselves a real tree, cut it down, make sure it is just the right one to have as the gift bearer this holiday season.

So we bundle them all up, each of them resembling the child in the Christmas Story. Arms out to the side, not able to put them down because of the layers, it was ridiculous. I, of course, think this is hilarious and keep bringing their arms to their side and watching them pop back up. They don't think its too silly.

And we just can't have a fake tree. Give me a break. We need the real one, the one that has all the needles that fall all over the floor. The ones that burn out your vacuum cleaner. The ones that you are still finding nestled between your carpet and trim in July.

So we walk, we walk with the tree hauler, the saw, the children, the stroller, all of us, to find the perfect tree. In typical fashion at the first nice looking tree Andy turns and says, 'how about this one?' In a field of hundreds of trees he is going to stop at the first one. It never fails. It took me an hour to get everyone together in their warm weather wear, we are not stopping at the first tree, we are just not. So we trudge on.

'I'm cold.'
'My feet hurt.'
'It hurts to breathe.'
'My nose is cold.'
'Why are we doing this?'
'Why does Jacob get to ride in the stroller?'

I ignore all of it. However, at one point I turn to my little cherubs and say, 'This is what we do. This is tradition. We will bring your children to cut down a tree, you will bring their children to cut down a tree. No one in the history of our little family will have an artificial tree at Christmas, now get it together, Christmas time is cold, that's they way it is.'

Ethan stops at this one. He likes the color of it. I do too if you like the look of a dead tree. I told him that we could get that one, but we couldn't put any lights on it, because this kind of tree would burst into flames when Mommy puts her 1,000 lights on it.

**This is also what it looks like when a 3 yr. old boy has to pee and says he doesn't. With all the trees available...he waits until we get back to the car.**

So he moved on.

You know the drill. Too fat, too tall, too many holes, too skinny, I don't like the needle type. And then we find one. Ta Da! A little haircut will do it some ddo, but its perfection, that and the baby was starting to scream.

We trudge back. Ethan is very angry at this point...

'Look, we go all dis way to find a tree, and we have to walk all the way back, it's not fair!'

'Not fair, is not having a tree on Christmas. Rejoice. This is Jacob's first Christmas, this is fun.'

So on we go. We get back to the car, and I know it. I know Andy will say it. He does every year.'The tree is so small. I think we got too small of a tree, the guy wrapped it up in seconds, it's too small.'

Does he not know who he is married too? I am like the crazy holiday decorator, I am in the woman in the Target commercial running all over the store. I know what size tree we need.

Later that night after a friend get together, we returned home to the Christmas Tree to decorate it. I promised Kendall had she fallen asleep in the van on the way, I would wake her up. I know, right? It's like telling a bomb you will be back to watch it explode. But I did, I woke her up, and she raced inside. I also tried to wake Ethan up and he replied, 'Leave me alone!' I said, 'we are going to decorate the Christmas Tree, are you ok with missing that?' He screamed, 'Yes! Let me sweep!' Alright, so now we know we have to fight just a little bit harder with this soldier to hammer tradition into his head. Duly noted.

So after the hanging of the 1,000 lights, we were ready to decorate. About 10:30 she asks, 'Mommy are you sleepy, cause I am, you can finish this for me if you aren't.' It's like clock work. You make them think that you desperately need their help to decorate the tree, you get them when they are tired, they help because it is exciting, but they are tired, so their memory is a little fuzzy, you send them to bed, free reign to decorate. They wake up in the morning, tree is done, they proclaim, 'Look at how we decorated the tree, its perfect!' Get that 'we' in there? It is perfect.

Here's hoping that your traditions are going just as swimmingly.

This One Time...

2010-11-30T10:40:00.005-05:00

I hate to admit it but I have seen the American Pie movies. They are terrible. I don't even know why I watched them. I think maybe it was the thing to do when I was in college. That is even more terrible, what a follower I was. I may even in the deep pile of movies we have even own some of those movies. So inappropriate. I am a mother for goodness sake.

However, there is a point to me bringing up these ridiculous movies, 'This one time, at band camp...' It was pretty funny. The writers of the script mocking what everyone does at some point, tell stories about someone or something over and over again.

This is my life with Stanley.

Yes Stanley the Super Pug. I tell you, life with a dog just adds something. Chaos is too strong, excitement is a little overrated, he is busy; Pugs in general are, but I don't know what the word I am looking for is, brain freeze.

I know for sure that it's not like having a cat. Cats can pretty much take care of themselves. If you are super duper lazy, you don't even have to feed them everyday. Just get them those self feeder bowls and tell them to go to town on the toilet water. And I love me a cat. Most especially a nice fat one, who's jelly just rolls over the edge of wherever they are perched. Makes me feel skinny on my worst of days.

She is an emotional eater. You can find us during that time of the month in the basement watching Lifetime movies together feasting on sundaes and doritos.

Stanley is a good dog. He is full of energy and definitely is our little herder. When we come home he has to make sure all his little ducklings have arrived safely, and will sniff and circle all of us. When we bring the kids in at night if they are sleeping, he will go in after us to check on them, jump on their beds, lick their faces. We really appreciate that. It's cute, I suppose, if you like that whole children freaking out because the last thing they knew they were in the van and now they are being attacked by slobber thing, we get.

He is pretty well trained. He comes running back when you call him no less then 79 times, and threaten to never ever take him anywhere again, and to not sneak him leftovers or scraps from the kids plate when the boss isn't looking. I mean I put my life on the line here, the least he can do is not cruise the neighborhood looking for the perfect spot to lift a leg to and just go right out front.

Stan apparently also thinks that he is a better parent then me. If the kids are on the swings, riding their bikes, if we are lifting them into the air to fly, or if they are partaking in an activity Stan deems is dangerous, he gets all sorts of crazy. Barking that loud, high pierced bark that is sheer panic. He nips at their pant legs and will not stop until they are safe, in front of him, on the ground. I swear he looks at me with such disgust when they do these things. As if he is saying, 'you dumb girl, who made you a mother, how on earth do you think it is ok to risk their lives in this manner, here I go to rescue them again for you!?!?!'

But we love him. He really smells sometimes and gets this nasty junk in his little wrinkles of his face that I have to clean out regularly. He also snores and snorts alot, and he really does have a mind of his own. But he is devoted to us, and for that, he is a good little dog.

So without further ado...

This one time we took Stanley to PetSmart. Kendall was dying to take Stanley to a store he could actually go in. So we get all in there and Stanley did love it. I mean I swear he had a smile on his face the entire time we were in there. He properly pissed off the cats, the birds, and got to sniff the other dog shoppers rear ends, it was bliss. So we get ready to leave and I have to pull him out the door. Me, three kids, one in a stroller, two just in la la land, and one unruly dog. So we get to the van, I hook Stan's leash to an armrest, and as I am buckling in the kids, this dog wiggles himself out of the collar. All I see when Kendall says, 'hey look there goes Stan back into the store!' is his tail end bouncing through the automatic doors back into dog heaven. No joke. So I do what every bad parent would do, pull up to the front of the store, lock up, and go back in. And there he is, sitting in an aisle with a poodle, pawing at a bag of dog food. Needless to say, we are never going back to PetSmart with Stanley.

This one time we had Stan in the car and we were on our way home. I stopped by the local pizza joint and picked up some hoagies for dinner. I was so excited to get home and eat this hoagie for dinner. They smelled so good. I was even thinking, 'wow, they smell so good tonight for some reason.' I rationalized that I was big and pregnant, I wanted to eat a hoagie so bad, and the smell was just getting my cravings going. We begin to unload and I notice a piece of lettuce on the floor of the van, follow it with my eyes, a trail of lettuce! I look at the bag the hoagies were in and it looks like I left. But I jump in, look around the side of the back seat and there is a heap od lettuce and tomato, and a dog finishing the last bite of a hoagie! I was enraged! He had eatens someone hoagie, but who's hoagie? I ate cereal that night. Stanley went straight to bed with no supper, other than my hoagie digesting in his little loins.

This one time I was taking Kendall to school. On most mornings we take Stan with us. This way we can appease him with a car ride, and he can appease me by taking his morning pee on the way out to the car, killing two birds with one stone. So we are driving there, get there, tell Stan to, 'stay,' which he really get swimmingly now, and we unload and go into drop Kendall off. We turn and wave to Stan, he is in the drivers seat, watching us go. We get back, I am loading up the boys, tell Stan to, 'stay,' he listens to my command. He sniffs the boys hello, is circling the van smelling for Kendall, as he always does. Ethan is not moving into his seat, and I say to him, 'Come On!' not realizing at that moment that this is a command I also give Stanley, that he obeys. 'Come On,' means, get out of the van, it's your turn, move it pal. So he leaps out, nose to to the ground in search of the missing child. I turn and again, I see his rear end going right through the door of the preschool. Awesome. Again, I quickly buckle in the boys, whip around to the entrance, lock up, and run inside. Stan is sniff, sniff, sniffing all the giggling children on his way to find his beloved Kendall. I snatch him just as he is about to run into her classroom door. As I am walking away I can hear Kendall proclaiming, 'that was my crazy dog!' Crazy, alright. Thank goodness she didn't didn't put Mom in that sentence as well.

All in the life of owning a dog, I suppose. Something tells me this is just the beginning of a long line of band camp stories with dear Stanley. Having a dog is just sometimes sheer pandemonium. There, that's a good word.

Funny for a Monday

2010-11-29T09:35:00.004-05:00

Dooce had this on her blog today. I laughed out loud. Ethan laughed out loud. I laughed out loud at him because he wanted to know why those cats are talking like us, cats don't talk. Then he got mad at me and stomped away for 'waffing at him.' 3 year olds.

It's still funny! Enjoy. And thanks to Heather...she constantly makes me laugh.

Sorry. It was too big for my screen. Try it again, if you are just dying to see it. Click this time.

HERE!!

The Snaab & other Favs

2010-11-26T10:19:00.006-05:00

So, then she gave away the new Volkswagen Beetle. It hasn't come out yet, and they aren't even showing it to the world until May 2011. But everyone in Oprah's audience is getting one. They will in fact be the first ones to own one in the entire world. If you were in Day 1's audience you are most likely thinking, a cruise, we got a cruise, and they got a freakin car? But Oprah, don't you worry about me, I'll take anything. I'm just saying, they really got the short end of the stick. I am a bit nervous that this new design won't even look like a beetle at all. I am hoping it keeps its signature round headlights. Because I just love something about a car that makes it distinct from other makes.

Speaking of...

When I was in college I drove around in a Saab. It was a little old one. I think an '89 or something like that. But I loved it. I love Saab's. I love that they key injection site is in in the middle console. And it was stick, so, you have to pull up on the stick to pop it into reverse. Pretty cool. I had to give it up when I got married. Turn it in. It wasn't mine to own, since I didn't pay for it.I could hardly afford gas for it, let alone car payments, I was in college, working in the admissions office 8 hours a week...geez. But, I couldn't take my lazy boy of a seat ride with me. What is up with that? I don't know. I was the first born. I am certain now however, my parents might think it was a little harsh. It was breaking down, it needed a ton of work. So in actuality, it may have been a bit of a burden, but that wasn't why I didn't get to take it with me. But it is expensive to fix, my father can attest to this. One time on a cleaning frenzy to get it sparkly clean power washed the engine. Yeah. Not recommended. Do not power wash your engine.You learn real quick that not everyone can fix a Saab, and they are pretty pricey to fix once you find someone who knows how to do it right.

However, I still loved it, my little Snaab. I loved it's long nosed front. It reminded me of the principal in the Simpson's I have no idea why. I think it looked like him. But I think that people look like animals, resemble even their own sometimes, and they sometimes even involve looking like objects, hence, a car. But this is just a fair warning to my sister Michelle; you may just be turning in that Beetle, look out. Once you get a ring on your finger, rent out a storage garage, tell no one its location, and store the Beet there. I doubt it though, she's the baby, and we all know how that goes. Love you. Hey, you said I never blog about you...there you go! :)

And it's ok mom and dad, really it is. Since I work with the elderly population now, I have gathered a few common happenings. The children eventually take their parents keys and cars away from them when the children deem they are no longer fit drivers. Karma. That's all I have to say.

But she gave away a beetle, and an ipad, a coach bag, and some diamond earrings among other things. Oh and $1000 in gift cards to Nordstrom. She had chosen her favorite bras, and I guess they sell them at Nordstrom, so she gave away gift cards to buy new bras. If you spend $1000 on bras, you seriously have a serious issue. I think you may need to go and get your head checked, no lie. There is a hemotoma or something pressing on the part of your brain that enables you to rationalize.

And so, Thanksgiving was gluttonous as usual. I don't really think that turkey is my favorite. It is my favorite lunch meat, but not really my fav meat to be chowing down on as like a main dish. I eat it, don't get me wrong, but the sides really just make up for the entire turkey thing. I love mashed potatoes. I really just think that is my favorite part of the meal. What's yours?

Another one of my favorite things in my home is my children's playroom. It began as a man cave. That was 'his' intentions. Andy got the biggest tv that could fit down there, got himself a poker table, some chairs, and put tv's up in the corner so that if they were watching the game, they would be able to see it from every angle, no matter where they sat in the room. Or so they could be watching 3 different things at one time. He had Eagle's paraphernalia hanging on the walls, it was complete. He was so proud when the HD tv rolled in there, 'look at that picture, look how clear it is, don't you feel like you are there!?!?!' Incidentally I was watching Oprah. She just looked really large. I felt bad for her.

Kendall came along and we had a little corner down there with a basket of her toys, which could easily be picked up and put in the closet when the man cave needed to be used for manly reasons, and there couldn't be evidence of a child. Then I got knocked up with E, and well we had a trip to Ikea and got a shelf for the wall to organize the toys on so that when men came over to play, the toys could be put in bins and on shelves. Easy peasy. But as they grew, as their toy collection grew, that poker table was really in the way. I gave him fair warning, I said, impregnate me one more time as we live in the house we are blasting over the toy/man cave line and claiming it as our own, without even a meal to declare a truce.

Once we got to 12 weeks with pregnant with Jake, in all my preggo will power and strength, I crossed right over that line. The super human strength and determination of a pregnant woman cannot be matched. I got that place all set up by the time Andy came home from work one day, I put away the table and chairs that once had smelly men gambling upon it, and placed the kiddie table, the book shelves, the easel in it's place. I don't mess around.

However, you must know I am anal by now. You really must know it. I tell you what, that playroom is cleaned up every day before I retire for the evening. I just cannot settle knowing that there is things out of order. I don't know, I think I might need medication. But I just appease the monster and clean it. Now we clean it. The children and I, because I have trained them so well that they know where everything goes. The layman would just clean it up, pick things up, paying no mind to what bin, shelf, box, etc, they are putting them it. Oh but there is a bin for everything. You know me. So the 3 of us are permitted to clean it. I have also trained my neighbor Sue pretty well, but she doesn't play with Barbies, so we can't always expect her to feel like cleaning up.

This is one half of the room, the original half bestowed to Kendall and Ethan by the boss. Behind me is the other half, same idea.

And it gets messy ok, I am not that crazy that they will put me on a show on Discovery Health. I let them play and spread toys out so much so that you cannot see the floor. The weekends I work are a holiday around here because they dont't have to clean it up at all. That Daddy, he is the greatest!

And don't go feeling bad for him. Please don't. He has a little square in the room. He has his couch, his tv, and so on. He even has a mini fridge in his little area to keep his beverages handy. We even clean up real good and make room for his poker table every now and then. O.k.?

But one of my favorite things for sure is the playroom. I love that they go down there and they have a space all their own with all of their favorite things. I most especially love decorating this space for Christmas. I make sugar plums dance in their head, I try my hardest.

Super Bon Bon

2010-11-24T11:34:00.003-05:00

Growing up, I was extremely fortunate to be constantly surrounded by a friend(s). My first best friend in all the land was one of my grandparents neighbors boys, John, or as I referred to him, JJ. For those who know me to the highest extent, it would not surprise you find out that my very first close friend was a boy. I've got that tom boy in me that rears its crazy head every once in awhile, and that is much in part due to JJ. Because see we never played barbies, or dress up, or did water ballet performances in the pool. We were racing around in big wheels, climbing trees, killing bugs and smearing them on things. We did cannon ball competitions into the pool and told scary stories under the big tree between the two houses. It was grand. When Mom Mom would call me in for the night, I would race into the house into the perfume scented bubble bath and beg to get my nails painted and my hair put in braids so it would be kinky the next day, loving the best of both worlds. I would wake up in the morning to race out to find JJ where he would tease me about my kinky hair and lead me to a swampy area to catch toads. I have written before about the day I raced out with kinky hair to have him compliment me instead of tease. What a devastating day for me, no seriously, it was. This was JJ, and some pre pubescent monster had taken over him and I was so angry.

But enough about my lessons in love, for another time, this a completely different post. Gotcha, didn't I? But you will see my life lesson in this, close friends are to be like JJ, they enhance a side of you that needs polishing, that needs to be shared with the world. Had I not been friends with JJ I never would have never seen the inside of a little boy's head and been able to relate to mine as well. I would have never been able to encourage the side of Kendall that is tom boyish. I love that she includes boy's names in her list of close friends at school.

I love that all the little nuggets are developing friendship and little personalities of who they are when they are with their buddies. I loved who I was with my friends. Growing up without my tight circle of girlfriends, I would have never made it through those crazy hormonal teenage girl years. It was always so handy to have someone to talk on the phone with all.night.long, despite my parents annoyance. I always remember telling them that they to can come out of the dark ages and get call waiting if they had a problem with it, I can't help it if people need to talk to me that I just left and will see the next day. It's mandatory, I am in school to learn, not socialize, remember conferences?

As we go into the holiday season, as I said, I would go through and list my silly little favorite things I have sprinkled all over my house, it is kosher to share what you are thankful for. I'm down with that. And if you are my dear friend, consider yourself warned, I am coming after you.

I socialize with many. Hey, if you are going to talk, you better believe I am right there along with you. I am pretty blunt. I kind of tell it like it is. I do. It's a compliment and a detriment. I would like to say I am friendly. I think even more so now that I have kids. Listen, if you have got someone walking around with a little present in their pants stinking up a room, you really have no room to be withdrawn, snotty, so on and so forth. But I am not that personal with the entire world. For me to bear my soul to you, we've got to be tight, and I like it like that. As I think through my little list of tight friends, there are those that I see on a consistent basis, there are those that are family, because your very best of friends can be in your family, and there are those that I see randomly because of distance and life happening, but because of history, I would have no problem picking up and going on and instantly feeling that bond with, and that is awesome to me.

So with that in mind. Over the course of the holidays, I will randomly victimize one of these friends and put them right up here on my blog for all to read about. Good times. Just keep in mind, I said I was thankful for you...that should mean something, really it should...gosh, be appreciative...sometimes you are just so selfish. (and that's ok, sometimes I am too, that's why we are friends.)

On with it. My friend Bonnie is the littlest thing you will ever see. She reminds me of Tinkerbell. No, she could get all in a little Tinkerbell outfit and fly down off the balcony in her house into her living room and sprinkle pixie dust,and I just might question if she is the real thing. And if you don't like it, that's fine. Maybe her husband Kevin would. I'm just sayin.

I would like to start off with a story about Bonnie, and you too would instantly want to be her friend. I will try and make it as brief as possible, because when she tells it, it is like sitting around a campfire telling stories kind of story. Sorry, Bon.

Ok. So Bonnie is invited to two showers on back to back weekends, two different places, two different women, two different days. You already know where this is going? You clever sleuth. Well it is just that, and it is hilarious.

So the morning of the first shower she is to go to she is buzzing around getting ready. Her kids are leeching themselves on to her as children tend to do when you are on a schedule and about to leave them. Her husband is outside doing yard work, because that is how they roll. I think that they think just because we are getting ready to enjoy ourselves, that taking care of the children should happen as usual. That, 'hey listen, you are going out for the day to have all this fun and leaving me with these monsters, that is just too bad that you have snot on your little black dress, this is your penance, I have yard work to do before I have to be all eyes on the kids'...well also on the football games on tv. So rough. But I do love them.

So she is going at hyper speed, leaves the chaos, arrives at the shower. So she looks around, doesn't see anyone she really knows, but figures she isn't really that close to the chick, and she certainly wouldn't know all of her family, so she puts her gift on the table and heads to find a seat. On the way, she goes through the food line, makes small talk, grabs a glass of wine, and then sits down. She finds herself sitting next to a woman with a terrible grudge against her husband, yes Bonnie's husband, Kevin, whom she doesn't even know. In the end, the assumption can be made, that this woman indeed detests the male gender as a whole. While making small talk, Bonnie shares how hectic her morning was trying to get ready and trying to appease her children at the same time. And this woman just blurts out with sheer resentment in her voice, 'well where was your husband?' Bonnie goes on to tell the woman that he was doing yard work and this woman continues on to dig on Kevin, 'well he should have been helping you with the children.' Obviously stating to obvious. But in typical fashion, Bonnie defends Kevin. Because that is what we do. We might think and have most likely said the exact same thing, but it all becomes irrelevant when someone who has no business saying it, says it. Isn't that funny how we work? Bonnie then retorts, 'well it's saturday, he has to get this work done outside, this is a day off for him to, and he is outside slaving away, it's only boogies on a black dress, so what, it comes off.'

So after getting all rawled up, she sips on her wine, and the woman changes the subject onto the bride to be. I do not remember what the bride's real name was that Bonnie was showering on that day, but let's say it was Emily. The resentful woman says something about the bride, like, 'Oh have you heard about the color of the bridesmaid dresses that Suzie picked out?' And Bonnie blurts out, 'Who's Suzie?' The woman looks at her like she has 17 heads and is wearing a pink tutu and replies, 'Uh, the bride.' And it hits Bonnie all at once. She doesn't know or recognize anyone in the room, the shower is clearly underway, and she has no idea who Suzie is. Where is Emily?

So she gets up, laughs in the woman's face thinking thank goodness no one she knows is associated with a husband basher like this, and says, 'I am at the wrong shower.' She walks away, picks up her present from the table, exits the building, and promptly calls her husband to find out just where she is supposed to be.

Seriously? Seriously.

In Bonnie's defense, she was invited to a shower at this facility, however, it was the following week, for the other girl. And, that is the only defense I have.

Goodness. I love this woman. And that isn't the only story like this one. It sure isn't. I just bared witness to my first Bonnie Moment at few weeks ago, and it was great. Another time people, or read it in my book.

I just met Bonnie this past spring at church. Really. I was big and pregnant, and she waltzed right into my life with her cute little family. It was a perfect set up and love at first sight. Bonnie's husband, Kevin, the offending yard working husband, is just like my beloved in so many ways, and in fact as I get to know more and more about him, similar to my personality as well. But when I think about it, Andy and I have very similar personalities. So, I probably would be just as anal as Kevin. (just kidding, slightly, Kev)

But also, Bonnie has a little lady, Emma who is 7, who my daughter Kendall enamores in every way, because girls that are bigger than Kendall are her sun and moon. She also has a little man Ryan, who is 3. This little man and my little man E, are also a match made in heaven. No lie. They are the best of friends. Their personalities are so similar that it is somewhat head turning. All E talks about it is Ry. When we are at the store, 'Mommy, can we get this for Ry? He would just love it, let's get this for Ry for christmas alright?' When he is playing, 'Ry does this with this guy mommy, make him jump off the chair like that, like Ry does.' When he is going to sleep. He has a picture of him and Ryan in his room, and sometimes I catch him just looking at it and smiling. Having a best friend is awesome, having one at 3, is just the best. I hope they are still the best of friends at 40, what a great pair they will be. Then she has little Ellie, my little Stay Puff. Ellie is just about 16 months, right? I think so. She is 9 months older than Jake. Our youngest, Ellie & Jake, have it great. They are betrothed in marriage to each other. It has been arranged by Bonnie and I.

And then you fold us all up into a neat little box and put us on the 'perfectly perfect cute shelf.' Because aren't we just all perfect for each other? So cute.

Really though. I could go on about Bonnie all day. Bonnie is resilient. She has a heart as big as I have seen. She thinks of others consistently before herself. Bonnie is also an open book when you get close to her, which immediately bonded me to her. If you can say anything to another person and know that they will never think negatively twice about something you have said or judge you at all, you are my dear friend. Bonnie is like this. She loves deep. She will compliment something about you on your worst of days.

Bonnie knows how to have fun, and is always up for celebrating something. 'It's cold out! Let's have a party.' Really, she would.

I also love the feeling you get when you walk into someone's house and you know that you are welcome and a part of their home. You are comfortable with them, their space, their kids, and their lives. I immediately get this when I go into Bonnie's home. Beyond loving every square inch of her self-entitled dream house, I am instantly comfortable there, and so are my kids. We enter through the door and scatter, each to our friend, our spot.

Her extended family is much like mine also, and I am certain that this is also why we get along so well. If you are surrounded by similar surroundings and personalities, the ability to feel comfortable, happens so much faster.

I love Bonnie's randomness, her giving nature, her innocence, and devotion. She is devoted to her husband, her kids, her family, her friends, and her God.

For all of this...even though you are 4 years older than me...I am thankful Bonnie, to call you a dear and close friend.

Bonnie & her hubby Kevin...Tink, right? Squint, and tilt your head to the right...yup, see it?

Favorite Things

2010-11-20T13:31:00.007-05:00

Listen, I ain't given you a cruise on some giant ark that has an ice skating rink in it, but seriously? Did you watch yesterday's Oprah? I watch this episode almost every year. I sit there and steam. 'Why am I not in this audience?' Seriously. Somebody better write into Oprah and tell her that I am obsessed with her favorite things give away, and that I am the greatest person you ever freakin met, and you think I deserve everything she is giving away.

I sit there and calculate in my head, and yes, it hurts, (haha real funny), the value of the things, and how much everyone in the audience receives money wise and it is literally insane, that Oprah, she don't mess around. And her favorite things? Well really they are favorite things. I want to be on Oprah's christmas list. She is the Santa for my age group no lie.

These people in the audience they freak out over everything they are getting. And why not? I would too. They were freaking out about macaroni and cheese. I kid you not. She gave away this diamond watch that I probably would have screamed about also, but they gave the same reaction to the mac and cheese. The people I was watching it with were like, 'why are they freaking out about mac and cheese?' Let me tell you why. Because at that point the audience is in such a state of shock, that if she said, 'and these are my favorite trash bags,' they would have lost it. Because she wouldn't have given you one box of trash bags, she would have given you like enough trash bags to last you 20 years. Trash bags cost a bit of money. The makers of them get away with charging like 7 bucks a box because you cannot not have trash bags, unless of course you are really strange.

So, I can completely relate to this audience. I too would have been screaming for the entire hour or so it took for them to do this episode. I would have not had a voice for 3 months, the people in this house might sign me up just for that reason alone. 'Dear Oprah, My Wife talks incessantly about the most random things, please have her on your Favorite Things episode so that she loses her voice, and I don't have to listen to the nonsense for 3 months.' Seriously, it would benefit everyone across the board.

She has paramedics on site during the taping of the show, she showed them yesterday. I believe it. If you scream for that long, that loud, and cannot catch your breath, you very well may need a medic. I want to know if she also provided some depends for the ladies, because I definitely would have peed myself. I mean three kids later, this bladder doesn't have super power strength anymore, and if overly excited, I may piddle. And don't care if you think that is too much information. Ask any woman who has carried more than one child in their uterus, you piddle sometimes. Usually not for no good reason, but perhaps like a really aggressive sneeze. It's ok, I am here to also educate. Think before you impregnate fellas, we aren't the same after the war. ( I am sure next time you see me, you will be all, 'she's pees her pants, eww.', and for the record piddle and peeing are two totally different things)

She had another episode airing on Monday, because well one day just isn't enough for Oprah's farewell season. So it is another audience another entire list of favorite things. And by the way, Nike gave away sneakers for everyone in the audience's immediate family. By some miracle, everyone in my family would be a woman's size 8.5. Don't think I wouldn't have shared the wealth, because I would have, I would have had you over for some mac and cheese and a movie. Because, oh, she also gave away the 3-D flatscreen tv, where we can watch 3-D movies as well as our regular blu rays if we choose, because she gave away one of those too. And don't worry about movies to watch, she also gave away 5 years of streaming Netflix to each person.

Santa, for grown women. Believe me now?

People get on Oprah. They get all upset because people follow what she says. Listen, she does have some food for thought sometimes for me, but like I don't listen to the Dali Lama, he's a pretty cute little old man, and he really has some peaceful thoughts and ideas, I don't listen to everything Oprah has to say, and I think she would think it a little creepy if I did. I'm just sayin'. Sometimes I need to defend Oprah. She is just a woman who got really fortunate. All women have things to say, you don't have to listen to us, although it would be wise sometimes to tune into our station. It's just silly to say that she thinks she is God. Sure she has money, she knows how to have fun, she talks about what people want to talk about, and at the end of the day she sits at home with Stedman and her dogs happy because she made others happy. So let her be happy. She isn't going to run for president. Her only fault is that she caused some serious envy yesterday. I just sat there, and was like, 'oh, I would just love that.' And, 'that's it, it's the last season, I will never be on Oprah's Favorite Things.' And for a second I felt bad for myself, like I really ever had a chance, there was no chance in 25 years, but there is always that glimmer of hope. Pathetic.

But I am going to point out to you something I thought really awesome. I mean she gave away a cruise on the biggest cruise ship in the world, but I think this is better, well, ok, maybe not, but it is pretty cool...

You see that? I am an edge person of the brownie. I love the chewy and the soft that this piece provides me with. This pan? You see that with the brownie in it? That pan gives you all edge pieces. Right next to it is the same idea, but a lasagna pan. You know how hard it is to cut lasagna if it isn't an end piece right? You need leverage to press upon to get out a nice square piece that isn't sliding all over, and there it is. The noodles are a perfect fit, genius I tell you, some people are just gifted. Unreal. I'll say it again, it's the simple things.

Man, I'm gonna miss her.

So with that in mind, I started thinking, well if I had a show what would I pick as my favorite things that I have? I am certainly not going to give them away to you, you have got to be crazy. Not only that, some of these things are one of a kind. Picked up at flea markets, yard sales, and bazaars, finding duplicates would be nearly impossible. Things that once belonged to others...envious yet? Some other things are things that I just have and love to pieces, and if I could, if you liked it enough, I would also get it for you, but I am not Oprah. Too bad, so sad. So this week, leading up to the holiday season, I will of course tell you thing that I am grateful for, but I will also try to daily show you something that is one of my favorite things that I have got in my palace, and not ever for the right price, would I give them away.It would also be really great if I had that camera she gave away to take really awesome pictures with, but you know, the one I have is just fine, thanks for nothing, O.

So here is the first thing....

My little display shelfy thing. It has no formal name as you can plainly see. However, what it is is a box that I hung on the wall to display seasonal knick knacks if you will, a photo, or something, and some things just to make someone smile who looks at it. Now that Kendall is in school we get some lovely crafts to display.I love decorating for holidays and seasons, as you very well know, and so deciding what goes in here seriously makes my obsessiveness so happy.

My grandfather made it out of old barn would he had and years ago put a bunch of them together to give to people in the family. He backed it with a piece of burlap, I tore that off so that you could see the wall and I could hang things from it, and also so I could make it look a little less country. Because, I know there are those out there that really like the country look, and don't get me wrong, I think it is cute in your house because it fits you. Country does not fit me, it just doesn't.

So here it is gussied up for Thanksgiving. You could probably also make one of these. It might not look as rustic, but you could easily beat it up with a hammer and stuff and then stain it I guess.

I got it because my great aunt was selling it at her yard sale. I marched right up to it and said, 'How much for the shelfy thing?' She said, 'well technically it is yours, your Pop Pop made it, so free.' Sold! I promptly ripped off the burlap because maybe she could get a quarter for that, who knows.

And she gave away a $1000 gift certificate for closet organizers from the Container Store...whatever, this shelf is way better.

Teething...slowly taking away sanity.

2010-11-17T13:57:00.006-05:00

You may think this child is super cute. You may even think how in the world could anyone ever have any trouble with a child just this adorable. Look at him. He is covered in food and he is just so happy.

I am over here emphatically raising my hand. Pick Me! Pick Me!

It's not him, it's the teeth. They are of the devil. I mean I get it. He would look crazy born with a full set of teeth and ridiculous as a toothless 5 year old. But really? It's as if we are surgically attached. Conjoined chins. He is attached to my hip, like he was born out of my side and is just stuck there.

He is presently working on that second bottom one. And why do they say he is working on his teeth? Because if he had a choice he would quit and tell them to come back later. Baby Food is yummy.

He is awnry. You forget these stages, like you forget child birth. He is so agitated that he actually swiped the bowl of food I was feeding him and shook it so it went all over him.

I can't put him down or leave his sight. It makes home management a real trip. My house is a mess.

I would pick him up, but you see my pants are stuck to the chair I am sitting on. It's apple juice, from a spill 4 days ago. It's on the floor too, and you can't very well scrub a floor with a cyst this big on your side.

Looks like it might be naptime.

Tylenol kicked in. SHHH....this will last 10 minutes...because he also has a deuce in his pants. Awesome.

Warning: This Post May Cause Flatulence*

2010-11-09T10:44:00.005-05:00

Princess Toot

So if you missed my comment on facebook yesterday, my morning conversation with Kendall went like this...

'Mommy, I am really gassy today.'

'Uh oh'

'Yeah, I can't stop farting, I mean tooting.' (they must not be allowed to say 'fart' at school)

'Do you want to stay home?'

'No Way! If it happens, I will just look around and pretend it wasn't me!'

I just want to ask if you too also wonder where you children learn social nuances like this? I also love the word nuance. I sat there like I was studying some thesis statement or something, when I was really wondering where my child learned that a.) farting was something to be ashamed of, (which I am thankful for no doubt) and b.) that not taking ownership of the fart in certain situations is kosher.

As in typical fashion, I didn't ponder very long, but this time because I had an explanation...her father. Seriously. How many times has this man farted to the point I think he left a hole where he was sitting and has blamed it on the children. And they shriek and holler in delight loving the possibility that their daddy is just that silly that he actually thinks he can convince them he didn't do it! That Daddy, he is hilarious! Not. I tell you this though, if a fart of his magnitude were to come out of their tiny bodies, they literally would explode before our eyes.

And please, don't act like your man does not pass gas. Seriously. And for that matter don't act like you don't either. It's humanly impossible, I don't want to hear it. If you don't like that I am blogging about farting, that is fine too, go pick up your Martha Stewart Autobiography and read away.

Funny Story though. We have these friends, and I am going to keep their names off of this for the record, but let me just tell you about them. They are married, like most of our friends are these days, and let me tell you that they say that they rarely, if ever, farted in front of each other. No lie. The husband cannot stomach it. He cannot stomach farting in front of his wife, and he would definitely lose it if she did. The ironic part is, is that if you knew them, you would in no way think this of them. Not that they look like all they do is sit around and pass gas all day and laugh about it, they just seem like the type that just wouldn't care, you got to fart, you got to fart, it's your home, I am your spouse. But he can't handle it. He doesn't even like her peeing with the bathroom door open. He can't take it if she has to pee and he is in the shower, it is in his presence, he can't function. This is just hilarious to me. Seriously, he would die married to me. Because listen, in the privacy of my own home, with no guests over, well besides like my mom and sisters, I will use the bathroom with the door open if I am in conversation or whatever. The only time I will close the door in the above circumstances is just for sanity reasons. Listen it takes me like 30 seconds to pee, 20 to wash up, so that is close to a minute of me time, I will take what I can get. I don't know, that's just how I grew up. 4 girls in a house, one bathroom, you have to do what you have to do.

So back to my story of our friends, so the wife, my close friend, really only goes along with this because this is her husband, honestly, I think she could care less. So one night they were in an argument in their bed, and he was really annoying her. She either told him to go sleep on the couch, or to leave her alone, or something like that, and he wouldn't. So she said, 'Listen, _____, either you do this or I am going to fart!' And he wouldn't stop, and so she just let it rip. Needless to say, he was so grossed out, he left the room. She won, by farting. That's wonderful. If it were all that simple.

But what I want to know is, and I have never gotten an answer is, what if you really have to pass gas and you are around each other? Do they leave the room? Excuse themselves in mid conversation or mid movie and press pause just to pass gas? Just in front of your spouse? I mean sometimes gas is painful and the only way to relieve it is to just fart. And I am not saying I walk around farting all the time, and encourage my kids to do the same. Really, there is a time and a place. Not sure when that might be, but there is. I teach them it isn't funny, and it is rude, ok? They mind their manners. But they also know that when you have to fart, you have to fart, not at the dinner table of course, and sometimes they slip out, and that we can giggle about that. No' I'm serious, appropriate passage of gas is a life lesson.

And to all you men out there who think that your wives don't talk about you to other wives, and share some pretty private things, I got news for you. You will now look at all of your wives friends and sisters, maybe even moms a little bit different now ,won't you? I mean we know what kind and color of underwear you are wearing. We know about the secret boxes. So start behaving.

Now back to Kendall. I pick her up from school and you know the first thing I am going to ask her. It isn't about the letter of the week or what Rowan brought in for Show & Tell it is:

'So how did the tooting problem go?'

'Alright'

'So it went away?'

'Umm, Nope.'

'Did you have to go poopy during school, did you wipe well, seriously, we practiced this.' (and I'm serious, we did)

'No Mommy, I didn't poop at school.' (and who would want to poop at school? Do you ever remember pooping at school?I think there was like a silent code against this amongst peers)

'So they just didn't smell?'

'Oh yeah, they did. I just pretended it wasn't me, and I looked around and stuff. One time Mary smelled it and she asked me, Kendall did you toot!?!?, and I said, No Mary, that was you!, and Mary was like, No way Kendall that was you, and we went back and forth!' (And she's laughing hysterically about this)

'Oh, well, sounds like you weren't found out, huh?'

'Nope, it was close, but they didn't know it was me.'

Those poor teachers.

Again, another moment where I was like, 'Who is this kid, and when did she grow up so fast?' It is really a conversation about farting, and it is kind of inappropriate, but she is having silly conversations with her peers, without me.

So we get home, and get inside, and I am asking them what they want for lunch. E says PB&J, and Kendall asks what there is. I mention the leftover chili, and she says, 'Oh no! No way, I am not having chili again!' I list some other options and she then asks, 'Mommy do I have school tomorrow, are we going anywhere?' I say, 'Nope.' And she says, 'Ok, then I will have the chili, just wanted to make sure we were the only ones around in case I get gassy again.'

* Title taken from the book, 'Walter the Farting Dog', the beginning page of the book says, 'Warning: This Book may cause Flatulence' We really like this book, especially since Stanley toots alot. It is also becoming a movie, so if you didn't like this post, you won't like the book or the movie, and that's just too bad, you really need to loosen up, try farting.

Seriously?

2010-11-07T13:52:00.003-05:00

Ok. Who is the guilty party? Stand up and raise your hand...I'm waiting, wooden spoon in hand. I just got an email from Babble that someone nominated my blog as a favorite, 'Mom ' blog. Seriously? I am flattered, but seriously? I really just blog because it is cathartic. Really. That's the only reason I do it. Because if I get it out and share in my craziness, they one have evidence for when I go crazy from raising these children, and two, so I can actually remember some things, because I page back through my blog sometimes, and am like, wait? That happened?

So seriously?

They say to post a link on my blog so that my readers can click the little, 'like,' button next to my post. So far I have 2. That's funny. Most people have like 100 or so. But 2 is good, I guess, 2 people like me. My Mom and Dad.

I guess you could nominate yourself, but I didn't. I wasn't really going after that and all. But it's nice. But if you have a blog and think it is worth voting for, nominate yourself, I will vote for you, it's the least I can do. Just let me know. I am all about blogging. It's therapeutic. I don't even know what you are voting for really, because it looks like the Top 50 for 2010 were already named. Maybe it is like a vote after the fact, I don't know.

Some of my favorite blogs are on this list. So take some time and read them. They are that good.

In the meantime, if you want to 'like' me by all means. Maybe you don't at all and you are like...you fool, like I would actually support you. And that is fine too, you know whatever.

So here is the link. I didn't even know of this site, whoops. And then as I caught up on other blogs that I read, supposedly I am supposed to. See, I am totally green when it comes to blogging, I just act like I know what I am doing. I think that you click on that little square to the right that says nominate a blogger, and then click the Vote Now, and then scroll until you find me, I am like at the end of the list. Trust Me. I think like Page 2, "Telling One Story for every,'Polkadot,' on my Face.' There is definitely an easier way to do this, but you know me, the most complicated way possible.

http://www.babble.com/babble-50/mommy-bloggers/

Uh, so thanks. Thank God I will never be nominated for an Oscar or something, because my speech would be terrible, and I would be publicly humiliated all over the tabloids.

Tale of 6 month talents

2010-11-07T11:27:00.012-05:00

I just want you to look at this photo, and I don't care if you disagree with me, just let me go on and on about how cute he is. Really? Look how he just sits there. Too much.

And on a Sunday when the Eagles play. Here's hoping for the Eagles and Michael Vick. I forgave him, and I love animals, Jake did too, and Michael said that he asked Jesus to forgive him too. So maybe if we all try and forgive him he might feel this surge of love and lead the Eagles to victory. It would really raise the spirits of my sickly husband whose grumpiness is something I cannot tolerate. But more on man sickness this week.

And then there is this little close up....oh be still my heart.

Oh and by the way, he has this awesome new talent. If you are totally disinterested in the Eagles and really feel like holding a grudge, and say, forgive him? Yeah right. That's fine with me too. This will just help you out. He is a little shaky, but in the next week he will surely master it.

Why must children grow? Well, so they sleep through the night for one, and that I am ok with. But this whole growing up bit. I want to cuddle them forever, and I guess I can. However, their friends might think it a little weird when I show up at their college dorm just to cuddle with my son or daughter all day on a Sunday and read books to them, and give them fruit snacks, and ask them to promise me they will never grow up. I've said it before, I am that Mom.
Ok, so here we go...

Wait for it, Wait for it...

Almost ready...

Here he goes....Daddy just has to move his hand for you to believe it.

Why does the kid in back of him grow so fast? Seriously, belly hanging out? That shirt fit a week ago. But back on point...

Ta Da!

He's a little fussy at this point with the posing for pictures gig we've got going on. Sorry. Fussy Models.

A tooth and sitting all in one week. I am going to go upstairs and cry under my covers. Yeah right, like they would let me go and lie in my bed all alone. Seriously.

Ok...like I said he hasn't mastered it yet...whoops...

and look at E looking like, 'uh I hope they don't think I had anything to do with this.' Kendall caught him just in time, by the way, I didn't just let him smack his head on the floor while I snapped away.

*All picture poses were thought of by our creative director, Kendall Anne.*

Halloweenie

2010-11-06T17:56:00.003-04:00

Is there a particular reason that it seems mandatory to run from house to house trick or treating? Seriously, their capes and wings were about to let them fly! My poor friend Stephanie almost went into labor from the clip we were moving at. I told her to sit down on the porch of some random people who had a candy bowl sitting out, and hand it out for them. We were practically sprinting...at least they held hands when crossing the street. See my parenting is working...when you start to doubt it...here's proof!

I entitle this, 'Halloweenie,' because one year this is what Kendall called Halloween. I don't know. Not sure how the mind of a 2 year old would put this together, but when you have a brother with a weenie, and you say something that sounds like that at the end, well then you say, 'Halloweenie.'

Now Halloween is a very easy day to dread. You have to get costumes, you have to pay too much for candy, and then you have a ton of candy in your house screaming at the top of its lungs, 'EAT ME!!,' to the point you can't hardly function walking pass the bucket of candy. And pumpkins, they are really messy to carve, and if you make one wrong cut, just one, your whole pumpkin is ruined and it looks absolutely ridiculous. My sister, Meghan, can attest to this. She has some talents, but carving pumpkins is not one of them. I love to laugh at her pumpkins every year and then feel bad about it later. I mean seriously. If you saw the way my dad, sister Michelle, and I carve our pumpkins you would feel sympathy for her also. We use power tools. Enough said. Meghan cannot use power tools, she might lose a few finger, and possibly even a toe.

You then have to hope for the best weather. Because if it rains, it is a terrible night. If it is too cold, then you either have a fat princess from all the layers underneath to stay warm, or you put a coat on top of their costumes. That's right. The $30 you just spent on a costume is ridiculous, because you just covered it up with a coat. It's never once been too hot here for Halloween, but I imagine that if you lived in a warmer climate, dressing up in costume would not be fun, most especially with a face mask, that would just be terrible. The sweat, just gross.

But me, oh I love Halloween. I think it is so much fun. There was a period of time before I had kids where I was in this middle zone that I didn't really like it as much as I used to or as much as I do now. It's the time where you get invited to costume parties, and you just don't even feel like thinking of a costume for you and your significant other to wear, you would rather just wear jeans. I still don't like dressing up in costume, but I like to help others think of costume ideas, and that is another great part about having kids. I went to work the day after Halloween and all my residents asked me what I had dressed up as, I told them I was still in costume as a scary witch. See for when you have kids there is no need to dress up, they just being, make you a scary ugly witch. No, no, I am not saying that seriously. But when you have kids, you don't have to dress up anymore, you have good reason not to, you are putting all of your creative energy into their costumes, you have an awesome excuse. Unless of course you are from that special bunch of mom's who like to dress up to go trick or treating with your kids, or to hand out candy. Oh have at it, but you won't be seeing me join you. Maybe it's laziness, I don't know.

I am a bit of a costume snob. And let me preface this by saying to all of you who purchase a costume from a store for your children because that is what they want to be, that is ok with me, I don't even bat an eye. But for me, I think it is a challenge to think of a costume or theme and to go with it, and search store to store for the items that are going to put these costumes together. And my costumes aren't even the best costumes walking from house to house, far from it. I just like to torture myself into finding the best and most affordable way to get a costume together. I know I am a little anally retentive. But to see the flimsy fabric they provide you with that makes up this costume. It's highway robbery!

It is just plain fabulous that for another year I have somehow convinced my children to stay in theme. Now this is easier if you have all boys, or all girls. Because as you know, I have the boys, and then there is Kendall. Kendall who is a special little thing, in that if I tell her to do something one way, she is for sure going to do it, Kendall's way. So I thought, well I can have E be what he wants to be and have Jake go with that theme, and Kendall, well she can be Hannah Montana or whatever crazy thing she wants to be, if it required make up, she was wearing it.

E pronounced that he would like to be Spiderman, then the next day it was Batman, then the next it was Spiderman again. This went on throughout the month of October. So I could not make a decision on Jake because I was waiting for him to decide if he was going to be a Marvel Super Hero, or Batman. So I just let him do this back and forth game knowing that he was going to be some kind of superhero, I just decided Jake was going to be Superman, because Superman does not wear a mask, most children do not like masks, 6 month old children resent them. So the more I talked out loud about the Superhero thing, the more Kendall's ears perked up. My plan going in perfect precision. She finally asked one day if there were girl superheroes. We looked some up online. She asked if they wore make up, of course they wear make up! Andy likes to say that I forced her into being Cat Woman, how dare he. I mean I might have just mentioned that I would paint her face like a cat, paint her nails black, and let her wear black lipstick, but forced? That's a little harsh.

She looks as though she is saying, 'MEOW.' So cute, right? But what she is really doing is yelling for all of us to hurry up so she can go get candy!

So one day the prophetic announcement was made, 'I will be Batman.' I thought for a minute about changing Jake to Robin to stick with the whole Batman theme since Kendall was to be Cat Woman, but the costumes were over priced online, I couldn't find green sweatpants, and Robin wears an eye mask. It was doomed from the start.

I love how when you ask kids to look at you when they have masks on, they have to look up, this has always made me laugh. It's the simple things.

So it was off to put some super hero costumes together. Some pleather pants and a black top for cat woman, with a tail and some ears. Some sweats for the bottom of the boys, cause it was gonna be chilly. I found some superhero shirts at target that they can wear again and are super excited about. Well Ethan is, Jacob would smile at anything. I then gathered supplies to make the boys capes.

Superman, although, with the hat on, he looks like 'Kid,' from Kid n' Play.

'Uh, excuse me, I want a cape too.'

My response, 'Uh, Cat Woman doesn't wear a cape.'

Her Response, 'Uh, this Cat Woman does, she also wears high heels.'

So three capes my sister Michelle and I made. Well I created the pattern, cut, pinned, etc, she sewed it together on the machine because me and the sewing machine don't get along so well. It has been called some names by me that would be instantly bleeped out on standard television shows. It's just not pretty at all. The reason for the capes is that I hated the capes that came with the costumes for superheroes. And even though I was not buying the costume set, I was still determined to do better, because I really like to complicate things. So now they have these capes to pretend they are superheroes in outside of Halloween. And it is really grand to have them flying around the house at top speed ricocheting off of tables and couches, and leaping off of the stairs to rescue the poor baby (Jake) from the evil baby snatcher, (me). Jake loves it and really plays the part of the rescued quite well by squealing in delight when they whisk him in his high chair away. Got to love a high chair with wheels.

Because even on Halloween, and even when the Eagles stink, it is mandatory for my husband to wear a jersey, because they are playing.

On Halloween we had a little get together on the court, where all of us neighbors congregated in front of our house with some camp chairs and a fire pit, and ate tons of fallish foods, handed out candy, and trick or treated. I made this decision since every other year we tend to all huddle together anyway, might as well make it a planned event so that the food is better. And that it was. There was Monkey Bread.

The trick or treaters who managed to stick together through the extravaganza. We spent much of the adventure saying, 'Hey wait for Leah'....'Hey, we went to that house already'...'Slow down'...'You take one piece, not a handful'...and my favorite...'What do you say!?!?!!'

This year Ethan got it. He ran with the pack, banged on doors, yelled Trick or Treat from the top of his lungs, and Happy Halloween, as his bag was filled with candy. Kendall, the old pro, led the pack with her dear friend Sarah who is allergic to half the stuff in her bag anyway, but still loved the entire idea of the night.

My superheroes were worn out. Just as planned. Ethan started accusing Kendall of stealing candy from him, and it was promptly to bed. Because although 400 pieces of candy is just not enough, according to him; according to me, he was speaking incoherently and needed to be sedated from his sugar high.

E, just before his meltdown, as you can see through evidence Kendall and her candy are nowhere near him!

He is so cute...look at those cheeks, how in the world did I get along in my life up to this point without him?
(Jacob, not my dad, but he's pretty cool too, I guess.)

This might have been the end of my trio with the themed costumes, some may say. I'll let you believe that until I cast my spell over them again next year.

And if you aren't quite over Halloween yet, please indulge in the Modern Family's Halloween Episode. Now I have never seen a full episode of the show, somehow know a bit about it thanks to Oprah, but you don't need to to watch it. Go to this site. http://abc.go.com/shows/modern-family/video , and click on the episode entitled, 'Halloween.' I promise you, you will laugh. Get yourself a coffee and watch it at nap time, lunch time, break time, anytime. I laughed so hard it hurt.

Brief Background: The guy who used to play Ed Bundy on Married with Children, is the patriarch of the family. Remarried to the hottie Latina, who is so funny, she has a kid, they live with him. His two kids; his daughter, actress Julie Bowen, is married with 3 kids, is another small entity of the Modern Family, and then there is his son, who is gay, and with a lifetime partner, and they adopted a little girl from somewhere in Asia, who makes up the other small entity.

Seriously. Watch It.

'It’s so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life' ~ Rita Rudner.

2010-11-03T14:35:00.011-04:00

Oh la la you say...who got that dazzler?

I mean that is the prettiest engagement ring you have seen a bit, right? You will for sure show your significant other, 'honey, look at this ring, isn't it beautiful?' I mean who said it has to be an engagement ring? In this case it is, but no one said you can't get a diamond ring because you are beautiful, you clean the bathrooms in your house, and it is a Wednesday. I'm just saying. But back on point.

Simple Story:

Boy:

+

Girl:

+

+

3 or so some years

___________________________________________________

And there you have it. My little sister, the same one who used to smell my sneakers after field hockey practice because I told her it would make her live longer, is getting married.

They say they aren't going to talk 'wedding plans' until after the holidays...but notice how 'they' is a really great word in this situation, because it isn't the word, 'we,' and so that leaves me out of the equation. That is fabulous...and get used to it Eddie, for I am going to be your big sister too.
So get ready to be pushed down the stairs by me, wrapped up in a comforter. It was fun, Meghan will tell you all about it.

I also get to personally benefit from this engagement, which is really exciting. I know, you are sitting right at the end of your seat. I get to get my butt really in the groove and get this baby blubber off of me, that's right I said blubber. Pictures last a lifetime, and I am not going to be looking at them and say, 'ugh look at that chin.' , well actually 'chins.' ( I have three beautiful children, I have 3 beautiful children), ( I chant that regularly). So thanks guys for that incentive, me as well as my jeans appreciate it. So as 'we' plan for this wedding, I will be running my ass off. That's right, I said ass.

Goal: Broad St. Run, May 2011. I may die when I cross the finish line, but I will cross it, dag nab it. That's right, I said dag nab it.

Oh, and I also will be gaining a brother in law, that is also a benefit. Whoops, sorry about that Eddie.

So Congratulations! We are super excited for you! See I said 'we', instead of 'they', but I am sure they are also really excited as well.

The Happy Couple...

I giggle a little, because marriage is that much fun.

Greek Life

2010-10-26T11:14:00.002-04:00

In college I was not in a sorority. Not because I all out revolted against them, but because my university did not have them. Well there was the academic fraternities, but they don't count in the slightest. I am talking about all girls, all together, typically for social interaction, sometimes even living together. You know, Elle Woods, in Legally Blonde? Typically this is the image of a college sorority, and I really don't think it is all that bad. Then lightening struck me. But no, I really don't. Had a been at a college that had sororities, you probably would have seen me during rush week, and I am pretty certain that everyone who knew me in college would whole heartedly agree.

I was told by someone during my exit interview from college that I was, 'essentially the queen of the mall, that I led the way through this social circle that dictated appearance, gatherings, and nuances. That I lived in this building and walked around hand in hand with my star soccer player boyfriend, where others wanted to come in but could only window shop.' Hello Elle Woods. Snob? Imagine my rage at the time. How dare someone say that to me, right? What would you have done? But essentially that person was telling me I had created some sort of sorority, i.e. 'mall,' and in all honesty, looking back on it, I don't really think that it was that wrong of me to do, I was 21 years old. Sure, this person totally misunderstood my heart, but I was loud, I was rowdy, and I had fun, and I am sure that is the way I came across until you got to know me, because malls have automatic doors you know, you can come and go as you please, I never felt bad or apologized for being me. I said my, 'hi, how are you's,' to every single solitary person I passed in a hall, but more on the fun nuances of christian schools at another time.

There are tons of sororities throughout life if you think about it. Right now, I am a lifelong member in Delta Mama Kappa Nu. The sorority of motherhood. Why don't you come to our mall, window shopping is definitely recommended. Membership is quite easy, by accepting a bid ,all you have to do is become completely responsible for a tiny person's life. That's it. Do you sometimes look at your kids and are taken a little off guard? I mean really look at them, typically when they all are having a meltdown at the same time, and just you just sit there staring, mind wandering, thinking, 'who decided this was ok for me to partake in?' In essence, who let me join this sorority? Rush week was fun and all, with my significant, but wowee, the hazing never stops once you are a Mama Nu.

Girls in a sorority usually have things in common, something that unifies them, a reason they chose that particular sorority over another. Other normal standards are the following: Most sororities have a color or two that represents them, and some greek letters. They volunteer and fund raise, they have social events. They have rituals and symbols and structure and organization. They have membership protocol. They have houses that are home base. They are also surrounded by criticism.

So it's quite simple. As you have seen above, being a mom puts you right into a sorority whether you want to be or not. Let me break it down real simple.

*Our greek letters are pretty self-explanatory, although they aren't greek, but they should be; MOM

* Our colors do not require us to go out to the store and buy something new, how cost efficient, right? It's homemade. It's our children's bodily fluid. That yummy greenish brownish shade that comes only from poop, snot, vomit, spit up, dried urine, slobber.

*Volunteer, Fundraising, Planning and Attending Social Events.
Is this not a given? Seriously. As a mom, I tell you, I end up volunteering for more then I should be with three kids, but you just do it because you do it. Not even because it is the thing to do per se, you do it because the preschool kids need one large can of pumpkin to make their pumpkin bread. You can't make pumpkin bread without the pumpkin!

And sometimes don't you just wish the fundraising was for you ,and for a sponsored day at the spa? Right. We fund raise for kids teams, their class, their friends mothers brothers sister who needs new teeth. We do it with such fervor that is almost is overwhelming. I mean once you start getting a positive response, you just go with it, like its a game or a challenge. I will sell the most wrapping paper!

And social events. I am not complaining or saying that all social events are just terrible. But the number of parties that your children will attend in a year is just obscene when you think about it. And you go and they go because they are your children's friends, and sometimes even your friends, and they came to your kids party. It's cyclical like that. In the previous case, you attend to provide moral support for your friend, to help set up and clean up, to play bouncer, because let's face it, 20 four year olds wreaking havoc can make your hair stand on end if you had to forgo it alone. But the kids love it all, and that, in the end is why we do it.

My favorite social events in this sorority are get togethers that we say are play dates for the kids, but they are really for us. And when you have kids the same age it is great. You open the playroom door, proclaim, 'have at it, and don't tattle tale unless someone is being physically harmed by someone else to the point that there might be blood on the carpet or a broken bone.'

And then we get to to sit and drink our coffee and eat something that consists of more than a handful of dry cereal for breakfast. It's lovely.

*Rituals. Really every member of the Mama Nu have their own entity in their own clan. But when you really compare, almost every Mom is doing the same thing as you are in those high traffic times, as I like to refer to them as. We get up in the morning, there is diaper change, peeing, telling them to get their pajamas off 68 times, peeking at where the shirt tag is to make sure the shirt is on the right way before they stick their arms in because god forbid they get in on backwards and have to take it off and put it on again, this is just not feasible. There is the search for a hair brush, a little girl whining about knots, toothpaste on shirts to have to go and find another one or pretend you just don't see it. There is another diaper change thanks to the morning poop, daily, talk about rituals. There is breakfast, and milk and cereal rings on left on the table. All of this and more are typically go on at other high traffic times of the day that being dinner time, and bed time. We are all performing our rituals at the same time, becoming very ritualistic. You follow?

* Symbols. The ultimate symbol of Mama Nu is of course the mini van. You see a mini van nine times out of 10, there is a Mama Nu driving it. I cannot clearly fathom why on earth anyone other than a Mama Nu might need to be cruising around in one, well I am sure there are exceptions, but you know. Another is a home that is cluttered with laundry, small toys, juice boxes, and fruit snack wrappers.

* Structure and Organization. These are the two words we are constantly chasing after as Mama Nu's. Who doesn't want a set bed time, who doesn't want their closets cleaned? Who doesn't want a kid who always remembers to say please and thank you, and puts the toilet seat down gently and not slamming it down with all his might? There are moments of shining glory where you get to the bottom of that dirty laundry pile, but quickly someone spills a whole glass of chocolate milk down the front of them. There are those moments when you are yelling, 'Where are you, we have to go!' And they answer, 'Waiting for you!' And there they are by the front door, smiling, with their coats on, and shoes on the right feet. It is amazing what they can achieve when a Mama Nu keeps her eyes set on the prize, and that being raising functional human beings.

* And as a Mama Nu, we don't have a set house to gather, every one's house is the sorority house. And they all look the similar. Sticky floors, finger prints on windows, cats walking across the kitchen table, that might just be my home, whoops, a toilet unflushed, and a pile of little kid clothes set in such a way that it looks as though they just stepped right out, that's weird right? Shoes, socks, pants, underwear, one on top of the other, like the child evaporated. But they all look busy, right? That is a Mama Nu house. There is always something to watch to entertain you, or do to entertain you. Most importantly in a Mama Nu house you feel comfortable, not like a toddler in a china store.

*And Mama Nu's are typically always surrounded by some one's criticism. How we discipline, when we discipline, when we don't. What school our kids go to and where they don't go. What we feed our children and what we don't. And how many glasses of wine we drink at the end of a hard day. It could be rough if you let it.

And that is where another experienced Mama Nu steps in and says, 'there is no right or wrong way, what works for you is what works for your family, if your heart is in the right place, it will all come together.' There is no set feeding time, napping time, bed time, play time, silly time, learning time, and that is what is awesome about being in this sorority. You can stay in your comfy clothes all day long, and it's ok, this sorority is also a tough one, filled with responsibilities, if you didn't get your mascara on today, we forgive you. But isn't it fun to have the camaraderie?

Most recently I have seen a bunch of brand new Mama Nu's join the sorority and have loved to watch other members huddle around them and make sure their hazing is a little bit easier then their own. That's sisterhood.

And to my darling husband...if you are wondering why the socks aren't organized, it's not because I don't love you, it's because I am part of a sorority with a lot of expectations, wiggle your toes a little and be thankful that even if it took me 30 minutes to find a matching pair, at least I did it, and found outfits for all my kids for the day, at the same time. Yeah Mama Nu!

Because I drank too much coffee today.

2010-10-21T11:28:00.013-04:00

So wow. It's been awhile since I blogged. I am going to fully admit that three kids will do that to a girl, and I am losing my mojo when it comes to super multitasking anything other then wiping a runny nose and remembering not to use it right after on the baby's butt, or vice versa. Right now the babe is asleep. So I have a moment to ramble. And it is just that a moment, because this kids snoozes are completely unpredictable. That's fun,right?I am also waiting presently for the stain on the carpet that I sprayed cleaner into to be evaporated. Seems kind of crazy to me. But the stain is from Stanley, who must have gotten into something that he wasn't supposed to, and decided it might be nice to barf on my floor. How about the hardwood pal, the bathroom tile? Nope, as is such with my chaotic life, right on track, he barfed on the carpet, and that is no surprise to me. So I suppose we will be investing in some carpet cleaner today. That's fun.

To sum it up real quick, you haven't really been missing much. My house is pretty messy these days. I again, fully admit, I cannot keep up, so if anyone wants to invest in a cleaning lady and a home organizer for me for my upcoming birthday, that would be great,I mean, I wouldn't even try to stop you. I just cannot promise you that it will look the same 6 months later. I'm busy, man. And I really want my carpets cleaned. I am staring at them right now, the juice box stains...ugh. Maybe the next house I live in will have all hardwood floors. Then you could really see the animal hair, I don't know.

I was entranced with those miners in Chile. I seriously cried when the first one was coming up and they did that shot of his kid? I waited up to see that, paralyzed with fear that something bad was going to happen on live television and they would be stuck down there forever, with this video camera. That would have been terrible, so I peered at the television gripping my blanket praying for everything to go right, and it did, and they all came out, alive and well. Could you just imagine? I put myself right down in that hole with them and was panicking. I can't even stay in my house for one full day let alone three months underground with a bunch of smelly men. I continued to watch on mute each time Jacob woke up throughout the night counting down the numbers, engrossed in each of their stories. I could spew out at any given moment to anyone the reason for the order, how many capsules were made; 3 by the way, how big they were; a man's shoulder width wide, and how they survived down there, what they ate, etc. And I was filled with so much respect for the rescue men who volunteered to go down there to be in charge in this hole, and be the last one's up. Could you imagine if this was your husband? I would have committed him the psych ward at the mere suggestion, so there wouldn't have been even a chance of him going down there anyway.

My children are obsessed with these small 'guys,' as Ethan calls them. They are those action sized figurines, and you can get them anywhere, the Disney Princesses at the Disney Store, the Toy Story little plastic figurines, sometimes little people are included, and most definitely the characters you would get in a Happy Meal. Anything really, as long as they are typical not taller then let's say 3 inches. They play with them for hours. No joke. You would think that I could get rid of all of their other toys and let them have only these, but the clever little nuggets they are, they incorporate them into everything. The kitchen set? They refer to it as Giant Kitchen Land, and the people live in the microwave, oven, the sink is the pool. Ethan, however, in a thing that boys do twist, obsesses with lining them up. Wants them to have order. And this organization can happen anywhere, kitchen table, edge of bathtub, arm rest in the van, window sill,it happens everywhere. And the voices he makes them all talk in? I sit on the steps and listen to them play. I can't let them see me because then it would stop because of embarrassment, but none the less, it is very entertaining to me. I asked them yesterday when they were in the basement playing, 'guys,' if they wanted to come up and play with me, and they responded, 'nah, maybe later!' What!?!? Ethan now wants Santa to bring him, 'superhero guys,' since we are beginning to enter into this fascination with superheroes. And the best part about these guys is stepping on them. Nothing like muffling obscenities under your breathe as you attempt to get Buzz Lightyear's wing out from under your big toe nail.

I don't know, should I be concerned? Have I passed on my obsessive gene? The one where I take all my pretty things for a given season and arrange them just so? Speaking of. I have this little half wall that divides my main floor into two, and I want to clutter it with some fancy phrases or something of the sort....like this one...I love it.

From Etsy of course, it's a good thing I am on the tightest of budgets because I could go crazy on that site. Oh, I think that print would look just perfect in my house.

And then there is the chunkiest nugget of the three, our little plump raisinet. I could call him names like this all day, because all he does is smile at me. I race around at close to 100 miles an hour each day to make members of this troop content, and I turn and look at him and he looks at me with this huge grin, and the grin says, 'you are the most amazing person in the whole world!' Sure he is probably just thinking, 'hey look, there goes that crazed woman again, let's see how many times she has to tell Kendall to find her shoes today, I got my bet in at 52.' But regardless, I pretend he says the former, and scoop him up and thank him with kisses. Because babies can't talk, and some days, that is just awesome.

So there you have it, nothing much going on. We now go to like 48 birthday parties for children a week. School is cool like that, and so therefore I have even less time, but wait until you see what I came up with for an idea for Kendall's birthday party! See this is my problem, random thoughts at inappropriate times, I should be doing laundry, not dreaming of a birthday party in February!

Have a great fall weekend. I will surely blog tomorrow. I stored up a lot to say. Imagine what all the wives of those miners had to say to their husbands. That is like 3 whole months to fill someone in on, I would be talking for 8 days straight...'And then on Monday, the 18th of August, the baby took a 4 hour nap, and I wondered, should I wake him...'because I am that girl.

To My California Girls...

2010-09-24T13:46:00.008-04:00

To Ellie, my snugglishcious Victoria, Noell, & Joscelin:

FYI: I love this picture of the four of you...so loving...I think I might ask the Mrs. to frame it and put it near my corner of the couch!

Followed by a picture of me. LOOK! Remember me, girls?

Hello Ladies! Things are going well here. They still bathe me when I smell and I get to run around with the kids all day long. The boy here, he likes to wrestle and so that is something I enjoy doing now. Although he likes to sneak attack me when I am sleeping, not so enjoyable. They give me a new bone when I lose mine or devour mine. The Mrs. says that my behavior is improving. I don't run out the door to escape down the block to see my friends anymore. I simply just ask, and she takes me. Imagine that. She told me there was no need to run like that, but goodness do you know how good it feels to run like that sometimes? Too many pats on the bottom with her flip flop made me stop. She tells me it is too much for her to go running all over the neighborhood with the newborn in her arms and the little ones racing all over. Hey, all I want to do is socialize. Maybe we can reach some agreement. Playdates? Everyone else in this house gets one.

I have some good friends. Right next door is my girlfriend, Maddie, she is this little fluffy thing...so cute. She comes after me when I try to run away. I can't resist her beauty so I come right back. She has this little brother Chase, he is a funny little dog, but loves to run in circles like me. There is this giant Golden Doodle, Ellie, HaHa, isn't that funny Ellie? Anyway. She is a crazy beast who also likes to run out the front door without permission, and she always comes here to my stoop! Bunkley lives across the street with Bella. Bunk is a big guy who typically lazes around, no matter how hard I try and get him up to play, and Bella is a little Yorkie. Then there is LugNut. The biggest beast of all. He is an American Bulldog with the head the size of a soccer ball. They all laugh at us when we play together, but he is the greatest.

Lily, the cat, continues to pretend not to like me. However, she lets me get close enough to her to get a quick sniff. And sometimes she lets me sleep on the opposite end of the same couch as her.

They let me drive with them in the van alot. I love to stick my head out the window. We go to pick up the girl at school, or to the farm, and to visit relatives. I have now taken to running around with the donkeys when we visit the farm. They hate me nipping at their legs, but it's all in good fun.

There is the new baby. Often times I try to snuggle up to the thing, or sit on his legs when he is lying on the floor. Someone has to watch him. The Mrs. says something about it being her third child, she is less stressed. Uh, hello!?!?! He's an infant. Oh she is just crazy sometimes.

I still snore in their bed. She tries to get me to stay in the boys room, but he moves around too much. Something about my snoring being too loud, I don't know.

So I hear you are really moving. WOW! Wasn't that why I moved to this nut house in the first place? But it's been so long, I am sure you can't believe you are actually going! She had to show me the picture of the house for me to admit it was true. I love it.

I hear California is really nice. I hear the weather is just lovely. I hear there are some dog parks there. Actual places where dogs can run free with other dogs. I hear there are palm trees. Do you know how awesome it would be to pee on a palm tree? I hear they put dogs in real clothes there. Please don't do that to Charles, he would be humiliated.

Maybe you can come and see me or I can come and see you before the big move. But I am sure you are super duper busy, so if not, Have a Super Fun Time! I am sure you will meet lots and lots of friends, no worries. You have each other anyways, who else are you able to fight with and sit at the dinner table with every night, and be loved unconditionally? That's a sisterly bond you've got, love it up. What you are doing is super courageous! And don't you worry about me, I am spoiled silly here.

Have your Mama send the Mrs. your new address, she has some pictures of me to give to you. Four shots, one for each of you, so you never ever forget Stan the Man.

When you come back here, to visit, make sure you come and see me.

And just so you know, anytime you want me to come for a visit...

My bag is packed! I can get up and grab a flight at a moments notice!

Love you...and sending you lots of slobbery licks,

Stanley

P.S. Send Charles my love.

**** As a side note, a little about this deliciously cute family, well besides Trip, because referring to him as deliciously cute is just plain weird. Because for those of you who don't know the back story, you might be like who are these girls and why is Stanley writing to them?

These are our friends, the Forgengs. Jess and Trip are the parents, of those four little girls, who we know from college. They, obviously, are moving to California, Culver City to be exact. We inherited Stanley from them because there was no way they could take 4 girls and two dogs across the country to start pretty much anew. We volunteered to take the guy off their hands last year, since we were in the market for a dog, and not just any darn dog. However, these girls are extremely fond of Stanley, I mean how can you resist him, so keeping in contact is a must, and I will use the blog to do so every now and then for them.

They are moving to the LA area to build churches in a surprisingly unfed culture. I mean you see LA and you imagine it to be very worldly, but to actually here about the teeny tiny number of christian churches is disheartening and disappointing. As of last I understood, they are going to be part of this church, http://www.paradox.la/, go ahead and visit it.

Having Stanley in our home wonderfully leaves us easily connected to them, and is a daily reminder to pray for them! Knowing, that this move, although exciting, is not going to be easy.

Remember them, if you can, in your prayers. What an awesome thing they are doing!

Sir Chunky

2010-09-23T22:30:00.008-04:00

So on the first day of preschool, since we were not busy enough that day already, we had a check up for Jacob. This was the old 4 monther.

And as you get to the third one, it becomes routine, you know what shots they are going to get, you know the milestones they are supposed to be reaching, you know the questions the doctor is going to ask, and you know what homework they are going to send you home with. The poor third child.

He was 17.5 pounds, a certified heifer.

His length, I can't quite remember, I just heard the doctor saying, 'yeah, he is right over the 100th percentile in that one.' Again, sympathizing with Shaq's mother.

And the head circumference? That was in the 40th percentile. That one made me perk up and turn the ears at full attention. Now what is that all about? Both of my other children have heads the size of large pumpkins, much like their mother, and always were into the 80, 90th percentile on head size. They teetered right on that line of whether or not to get it scanned, and I am all, 'have you looked at my head, do you see the size of this sucker? It doesn't fit in most hats.' It's a real shame I tell you. E never fit into any hats for his age group, and in fact is presently fitting into a bike helmet that is made for 8 year old boys. I marched right on home and put a 3-6 month old sized hat on his head and it slipped a little down to his eyebrows. Imagine my elation! We have a normal noggin!!! I lifted him up and twirled him in the air like he had just pooped gold into his diaper. It's so wonderful, you have no idea unless you have a large head.

They then send you home at the 4 month visit with permission to introduce solids, if you think your little baby is ready. This kid would sit down and eat a steak dinner if you offered it to him. They say do just rice for 4 days, then introduce a fruit, yada, yada, yada. We had the applesauce mixed in there at the first sit down and we haven't looked back. He loves food. He smiles the entire time I am feeding him like it is the best invention in the world. Food. Imagine that. He is eating the veggies and the fruit like it is going out of style. He houses. I have never seen anything like it. I am going to have to put a padlock on the pantry. If I had a pantry. Someday I might, and when this offensive lineman walks in the house, we secure that sucker up.

The first supper.

So this child was born to eat. As if him taking to the boob in his first 5 minutes of life were not indication enough, this intense gluttony over rice and summer squash and peaches pretty much lays it all out there.

But oh I love this little man. I chomp on his cheeks any spare moment I get. I tell you that all the time, but they are so cute and saggy, oh I have to go and kiss them right now.

B is for Busy

2010-09-11T22:21:00.002-04:00

The Student

You know someone could have warned me. Someone could have said, 'yeah you think you're busy now, wait until one of them starts school.' Because I tell you, week one down of just preschool and we ran like ravaged beasts.If Kendall heard me call it 'just' preschool she would have a cow right in front of me, but I say it because we haven't even entered into the full realm of my children's education and I am spinning.

Ethan and the student. Apparently he does not do mornings either.

My morning begins with the slamming down of the toilet seat. My darling boy taking his first leak of the day is my shot gun sound to start the race, and it is non stop from this point on. I am not a morning person, which you may have gathered. And so as a result, I enjoy a leisurely prelude into the day. A nice snuggle on the bed watching the morning news and toons, while sipping on coffee. I know, right? It sounds just splendid. I have now embarked on a journey that will take 20 plus years until it is complete. Of course you get the summers off, but something tells me that once you are on a schedule, you are on a schedule. And it is go time, giddy up, and buckle up Mama.

I race up and down and everywhere to get them ready. Because monkey see, monkey do. I cannot for the life of me explain to Ethan that we are simply dropping the student at school and coming right back home. He can stay in his jammies, he can wait to eat a nice breakfast until we get back. We will be returning within 15 minutes. Nope, no way, not gonna fly for E. So as I toss an outfit to the student arguing with her that she can choose to wear whatever she wants to wear on the other 4 days of the week, I choose what she wears to school, I am changing a baby, and digging for the 'right,' undies that Ethan wants to wear on that particular day. This kid has an agenda, and if he plans to wear Buzz Light Year on his butt that day, well than that is how it is going to be. I mean there are battles that I choose to take on, but when you are trying to get 3 ready in a set amount of time, he gets to leave his streaks on Buzz.

I then get to try and find the student's brush which is left somewhere with some pile of Barbies, while holding a bottle to the mouth and dumping cereal in a bowl as I fly past. I then beg of the student to stay clean as she shovels in the cereal dripping milk all along the way. We then get the backpack, hope that the lip gloss is in its rightful spot, because god forbid we go to school without the right accessories to reapply with. And the onslaught of just what shoes to wear begins. The ones that were fine yesterday pinch her pinky toe, and the ones that match her outfit make her feet slippery with sweat, and you just can't run properly and fast with sweaty feet. The ones that she wore all summer just don't feel right, and the ones she wants to wear resemble banana peels with high heels attached, and that is just not how we roll, much thanks to Molly and Brynn.

And out the door. Putting baby in car seat while attempting to scold Stanley who is desperately trying to escape to go with us. And he has. And by the grace of God he runs into the van and not up the street to visit his friends and pee on their bushes. Then the argument of who is sitting where. Really? But you know you remember doing this. I used to always want the middle seat in the backseat and would inflict bodily harm if someone threatened to whine to our mom about how they never got to sit there.

And the marathon is still going. Because upon our arrival Ethan is grabbing at anything his grubby little hands can get a hold of on the way out of the van and asking, 'Mommy, I bring this with me?' I swear he thinks that the van is gonna blow sometime after we exit it, and he needs to take things he just might miss. Presently it is a catalog with Halloween costumes in it. I don't know. I can't explain how his mind works. Just smile and nod when what you really want to do is raise an eyebrow at his strange ways. Tick Tick Tick goes the clock. And Kendall is stuck behind him in the van screaming to get out. Hair.Flying.Everywhere. So now we get to redo the hair.

At this point I just want to scream, 'A Drop Off Lane would be a real novel idea!!!' Because every mom that drops of their child there has more then just this child and we all parade in and out; strollers, carriers, screaming toddlers, so on and so forth. It's a production that could be resolved in 2 seconds.

So I literally blink and it is time to pick her up. And I am moving Hector the Collector along. I have to make sure Jake is fed, changed, etc, and again wrestle Stanley all to be there on time. Because I won't be that Mom. I won't be the Mom who is late and picks up their lonesome child who is just standing there grief stricken with their teacher. Nothing against that Mom, it is going to happen at some point this year, but just not in the beginning when you are one of the new students and families at this preschool. Probably not kosher.

So you race in all the while E complaining his legs hurt and he just can't walk another step. Again...drop off/pick up lane. I'm just saying. So you try and hold it together because you are in public, but what you really want to say or I don't know, perhaps shout is, 'Ethan, if you don't move it, the pain in those legs is gonna be nothin' in comparison to what your fanny is going to experience!'

And there she is! The student!

On the first day Andy and I could not wait to hear what she had to say about it, however, the student typically has her own agenda, and on this day she proclaims once we are in the van, 'Please don't ask me lots of questions Mommy about school.' Who made this child? But once the monster was fed she 'shared' her school experience with her brother and I, secondhand I suppose, oh and her Daddy who was on speaker phone and she didn't know.

Apparently she was the counter for the day and there is 17, 30 kids in her class. I am going to go with the first number. And she is the newest one in the class. There is also a girl named Jasmine in her class and she wished that was her name. They forgot to feed the gerbils, and they had goldfish for snack again.

That night we had the Back to School Feast. The student ordered tacos for the menu, and we just celebrated the ensuing chaos in my life and to future college tuition. I asked the student to list three things for me she wanted to learn this year at school, and on the last day, we will read it to see if it was accomplished.

1. Be a better painter
2. How to do tattoos on my hand
3. Write my name

I don't know. It's interesting, right? At least she has some priorities?

Back to School Feast Set Up, Pre Taco Explosion

On the night before the second day of school we get home a little later then bedtime and the student was tired so she was all emotional. And as Andy is putting her to bed, he says, 'Kendall, if you cannot get yourself together and asleep, you will either not be able to go to school the next day, or not stay out late for birthday parties.' And she replies in what will surely be an Oscar winning performance, sobbing, mind you, 'What's the use in going to school? They don't even teach me how to read!!!!' Apparently someone has set the bar a little to high for preschool.

'Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one' ~Dr. Suess

2010-08-27T15:05:00.013-04:00

So summer.
As much as a love it, I am starting to crave a regular schedule.
I am almost tired of the kids running out the door to play before I am even dressed. 3 months later it is still quite embarrassing to be running outside after a dog or someone at 8 a.m. braless, teeth not brushed, and smelly. You think I might have learned my lesson and will get up and get myself dressed upon rising. Nope. And by the time it happens I am cursing my way out the door because I always run into someone. Quite typically someone dressed all nice, smelling all pretty on their way to work. And here I am barefoot with a baby just in a diaper draped in my arms, coffee breath, boobs down to my belly button, running after my dumb dog. It's awesome. I am a terrible mother that way. I like to laze in the mornings, I have 3 small children, I don't get what I want in regards to that, and promptly upon my arrival back through the front door, I am on my way up the stairs to throw on something, that will get snot, pee, popsicle drool, and what not all over it, kissing my sweet summer morning away.

The darling oldest starts preschool in September. We can all hardly wait, sort of. Kendall is beyond excited, I am excited for her, and that's it. This child needs school like cereal needs milk. You can eat it plain, but it is much better with it. She would be fine going to kindergarten without it, but is much better for going to it. And it's simple like that. She needs a place that is special Kendall time that only Kendall goes to and not the boys. She needs a place where she is not the boss. And she needs a place to give her that final bump out of little girl stage to just girl stage. It's so sad. E, Jake, and I are going to sit in the parking lot and cry the first day. Well I will cry over Kendall, they will cry because their crazy mom is keeping them pent up in the van for 3 hours.I am going to beg Andy to stay home on this day so that he can take her. I won't be able to bear it. As much as I am ready for it, was she not my baby not to long ago?

We have been so busy this summer I feel as though it really didn't happen. I know it was hot out, man was it hot out, but I feel like I need to go and roll around in the sand or something and eat a few more ice cream cones on the front steps with the kids.

Last weekend we went to our annual end of summer event. And though it is really in the middle of August, once that weekend goes by, Labor Day is here. This year it becomes a bit more meaningful as Kendall goes to school, and I am left with my little men. Can you tell I am for sure going to be a blubbering mess? It is just preschool, but it is away from the nest. Envision the mother bird hanging on to the baby birds little leg it is flapping away to get free, the mother bird is me. It's pitiful.

I look at the pictures of last weekend and I am like, what the heck!?!?! She looks older. They all grew to fast this summer. I mean Ethan decided he was going to ride a pony and carnival rides, what is that about? I mean Jacob is sitting in a Bumbo, I will say it again, I can't believe it. They are adults now. Ok, so maybe not. But now am 100% convinced that with the good Lord willing, Jacob is not my last. I love babies. I love to smell them, cuddle them, watch them, its fascinating. Not that I am about to go and jump in the sack. I am no fool. We shall wait. Practice being chaste for a few years. Just kidding babe, we are not Trudie Styler and Sting, and I don't believe them anyway. But you know, get them all ready for the world, and then pop out another one that I can tremendously spoil because he or she is the last one.

But I am supposed to be talking about the summer, no wonder it went right by me, I am thinking about things other than the season.

So we were off to the Grange Fair. My kids love it. Kendall has this love for animals like I do. It's this deep sympathetic connection, that some people think is crazy as anything. We even think that this is cute:

I mean he us just so gross that he is cute because you feel bad for him, because no one really likes a pig, unless of course it is Wilbur from Charlotte's Web, but even he grows up to look like this. And we eat pork. ewww...they roll around in poop.
That people is a connection. I have yet to tell her that the meat she eats is from the animals she loves to see at the fair, this would shatter her world.

So we walk along taking in the smell of manure and funnel cake. We comment on the best in show, and get real up close with them...

(Why are my children staring at the camera like they are some scary Amish kids in horror movie, I don't know, this pic sends me those vibes, I had to share.)

Sometimes they got a little too close. Here is Mr. Goat just before he nipped Kendall's shirt, to which she replied, thankfully, 'that's just what goats do, they like to eat clothes.' With some nervous laugh I have never heard before.

Kendall sat and watched the sheep show. You get this girl near anything that resembles a beauty pageant and she will sit. I think she was probably sitting there thinking, so when is the formal wear segment coming?

We made her wait off any of the carnival rides until it was dark. It's more fun that way with all the lights, too bad kid. So we took a pony ride, and like every time, we ask E if he would want to do it. Low and behold, he said yes!I turned and said, 'Wait, What?!?, he said yes!?!?' I am so inclined to him saying, 'nah,' that the change almost sounded like he was speaking german. We could not believe it. And he did it with a smile on his face...my baby!

We then decided it was dark enough to do carnival rides, and again offer it up to E. And he said yes! Ethan went on carnival rides. He took the tickets from his Pop's hands and he went on rides. Who is this child and where is my sissy? Gone. I tell you. He is growing up and I can hardly stand it. He plays tee ball and he is good, he takes the bat and he throws it after he has hit the ball because that is what the 'guys,' do.

This summer Ethan became a little boy, not a Mama's boy. Time to smother the next one.

So summer. Thanks for the sunny days. Next time you come around we are going to the beach, please be as nice as you were this year.

Mommyhead

2010-08-26T13:33:00.004-04:00

And the boy.

This one is a bit tricky because Ethan has quickly become the in house comedian. So there are lots of fine lines. Like when is it name calling and teasing as opposed to just being silly? When is it lying and not telling the truth or just being goofy to make me laugh? And do I tell him to stop when it is annoying me, but clearly everyone else thinks he is hilarious? I have said it before this child is going to be the one setting the chickens free in the high school as a senior prank. This is the child I will sit and listen about at parent/teacher conferences as the boy who is intelligent, but needs to stay focused and apply himself because under arm fart noises will get him nowhere in life.

Three year old humor is a hard one because it consists mostly of, 'potty talk,' and repetitiveness, because if they laugh at it once, sure,they will laugh it on the 49th time also.

Even when he is fighting back with his sister he attempts to be funny. Example,'Dendall I not like you right now because your datitude smells like Baby Jacob's poopy diaper! Ha Ha, you so mean you smell like poopy diapers!' You know you smiled. But I am the mother, and even though Kendall's attitude, does in fact stink, we don't use potty talk. See that fine line?

Right now he refers to Andy and I as Stinky Pete when we ask him to do something. This is a character from Toy Story 2 if you live in a cave. This character got his name because he lives in his store packaging and he farts in it. Very funny to E. So essentially he is referring to us as a fart box. 'E will you come and take your clothes to the laundry mountain?' 'Ok Stinky Pete.'

He also thinks it is just hilarious to do this:
'Hey Mommy!'
'What E?'
'Gotcha!'
And he will laugh incessantly and do it over and over again.
He is getting a little more creative now:
'Hey Mommy, Stanley pooped on the floor!'
'What!?!?! Where!?!?!'
'Gotcha!'
Again this is lying, not telling the truth; fine line.

Or he will say;
'Oh No Mommy, you have something on your behind, I'll get it!'
And then he swats my behind, while sceaming, 'HaHa, Gotcha!

Everything is also 'something-head.' Now he has gotten that he cannot say, Poopyhead or Farthead, after a few encounters with the wooden spoon. Now he resorts to other names, like, Sillyhead, or IceCreamhead. They aren't exactly mean, but they are name calling, but they can be funny. It's a mess of confusion. 'E please pass me the salt.' 'Ok Butterhead.' He acts like he is going to say butt, starting out nice and slow, and then adder the -erhead, real fast when I am ready to say something. And now that is just so funny to Kendall.

Ethan will also try some things out that others say that he thinks are funny. I am not going to mention any names as to implicate someone, however, Ethan recently has been trying out the word 'Weirdo.' And I don't like that. You can call someone a sillyhead, but not a weirdo. I am the mom, these are my rules. So he calls Kendall a weirdo, and I say, 'E, I do not like that word, you don't call people that.' To which he says, 'Daddy says that.' To which I say, well it is not nice and I will tell Daddy that too, it is not nice to say that.' And I get back, 'Yeah, Daddy is a weirdo for saying that.' E!!!!!

E is also a story teller and can think of excuses on the drop of a dime. One day I am cleaning up his room after he had been in there and see a wet spot on the floor. 'Uh, Ethan, you want to tell me who peed on your floor?' To which he replies, 'Uh, not me.' Kendall chimes in, 'Not me neither!' I ask, 'then who did?' And Ethan replies, 'Baby Jacob!' I say, 'Ethan Baby Jacob has been in my room all morning, if I find out you are lying, you are going to be on punishment.' And I get a sweet, 'Ok Mommy.' I go on, assuming that he is riddled with guilt for lying, and will tell me soon enough, this is what Kendall does. So then I find the wet clothes. 'Uh E, if you didn't do it why are your pajamas and undies all wet here on the floor?' Without even missing a beat, 'Well when Baby Jacob was peeing I held them out there to block his pee!' What in the world? Again, 'that is impossible Ethan, Baby Jacob is in my room, if you are lying, you are in even more trouble.' And he replies, 'well Mommy his pee shoots real far!' So I just later read him a story about the Bernstein Bears and lying because they have a story about every life lesson, and tell him that I know he was lying and I am not happy and there is going to be punishment. He says, 'I sorry Mommyhead.'

On the High Horse

2010-08-25T09:15:00.007-04:00

So my children are growing, imagine that. Growing into little people with little personalities. Ok, so not so much Jacob. He is charming and all, but what he really likes to do is drool, poop in his pants, and stay awake all the time, this does not really count as personality development. He is a pretty mellow fellow, easy to please, and kind of just goes with the flow. Is this because he is the third child or that he is just about 4 months? I don't know, I suppose we will find out in about a year or so. I would never ever say it out loud, but does typing count? My three babies have been pretty easy to please on a whole. All issues that come up I make it my everlasting purpose on this earth to stay focused on nothing else but this sole issue until it is solved. We may not have clean underwear for a few days, but dag nabbit, I am going to get the baby to stop crying all the time, and he stopped, and I promptly did the laundry, but oh Lordy he is a cute little thing. I could just sit and smile at him all day. Ok, and so sometimes, I will admit it, half the day I do do this, or dream about doing this.

Wouldn't you want to come over and gnaw on those cheeks too? And what is this about growing so fast. Sitting in a Bumbo? This is just insanity. Wasn't he just coming out of me? In 2 weeks he will be eating cereal and fruits. Not fair.

So the personalities I am referencing in this post are the darling older children. Goodness parenting is hard, right? I mean because now I have to decide between if it is something that they are doing because that is just what they do, or if they are doing it to annoy me to the point that I want to sky rocket out the side window. How do I encourage a born leader as she asserts her assertiveness but at the same time try and explain to her that not everyone wants to listen to her and do what she wants to do all the time? That if she doesn't stop trying to get everyone in the neighborhood to be characters in some play she has made when they clearly do not want to, and thus she is upsetting them, then she will need to go inside.

With Kendall, I have now attempted to take a back seat with some issues. This is two fold. One, I am trying to get her to solve her own problems. And then there are some issues that just exacerbate me so I just let her work it out, so that I don't send her sky rocketing out of the side window.

Kendall is at a point right now of pointing out constantly what is just and unjust to her little mind. She is also all about making the profound statements that are profound, I suppose ,to a 4 year old. Today she told me with absolute seriousness on her face, 'uh Mommy, this house is bigger then us.' Thanks Kendall. 'And do you know why?' Why's that? 'Because we are people that is why, and people are smaller then houses.' Deep, right? To be 4, and to have these be the things that run through your mind must be just wonderful. And then she walks away from me with a look on her face that mimics Aristotle's.

Kendall has also recently taken her big sister role quite seriously. I mean any chance to be in charge, this girl is all over it. Some recent conversations I have overheard between her and Ethan are as follows:
(while brushing teeth)
K: Hey E, you should spend some more time on your bottom row.
E: Can I use your bubble gum toothpaste Dendall?
K: Ok, then I will show you how to floss, and swish this stuff around in your mouth.
a few minutes after brushing-
K: E, the dentist told me it is important to floss with this string and to rinse with this stuff, here.
K: Now, swish it and spit it out, it's poison, and can't touch your belly.
E: WHAT!?!? I not want that Dendall.
K: Well then if you don't your teeth will fall out. And you know, I don't want your teeth to fall out.
E: Me neither.
K: Because if your teeth fall out, everyone will laugh at me 'cause I have the brother with no teeth.

It's always good to hear where her concerns really are.

And over snack time:
K: E, when you chew like that it makes me sick, chew with your mouth closed, like this.
E: But Dendall, you have crumbs coming out of your lips.
K: Yes, but my mouth is closed, and that is minding manners.

I am going to go ahead and say that most first born girls are really like this. I am constantly reminding her that I am the mother. Like when Ethan is getting mad at her and so she tells him, 'E, if you can't get it together, you are going to have to go upstairs to your room and get it together because I have had it.'

But she is going to preschool this year. And this will do her wonderfully. Just yesterday she said to me, 'So uh, school starts in 2 weeks, are you guys gonna get me a school bag or something, it is coming fast you know? What do you put in those things anyway, like your toys and stuff you might miss and some make up?' Priorities.

"Don't grow up too quickly, lest you forget how much you love the beach."

2010-08-02T00:23:00.006-04:00

So I love the beach. I think if I could choose to place a house anywhere it would be on the beach. Ok, so maybe not right squat on the beach, because then you have to worry about beach erosion and your house going right along with it, and waves crashing through your windows, and jelly fish on your kitchen floor. But most definitely ocean front. I want my bedroom to have a wall of windows facing the ocean and the sunrise, or sunset, but I really don't want to live in California, I heard somewhere that is going to fall into the ocean someday, and I don't exactly want to live in the ocean, just be able to look at it and hear it. I really don't think that is asking too much.

I love the beach in all weather, in all seasons. I love salt water effected hair, sand in my ear canals, and lying in bed at night still feeling as though you are being rocked by the waves. Don't you just love the smell of the beach? The sticky air? I even love the smell of the stinky sludge in the bay. That is love ladies and gentlemen.I love sand between my toes, I love getting home from the beach and seeing the sand in the carpet of the car, some might get annoyed by this, I love it.

I love the summer because I can decorate my house with shells from the beach, that I found, and this giant one from my Pop Pop's home that I took after I was living there for a bit. It isn't exactly stealing, it was outside, it had spider webs in it, this conch shell was left for the taking, so get off my case. It reminded me of him because he too loved the beach. I mean loved it like no other. He would be tan all summer, and inevitably most of the year. I honestly think the sand in his hair would stay there until at least christmas time. My ocd behavior would beg to peel his back when he returned home from the beach. That's gross, I know it is, try being me, I swear I was meant to be a dermatologist. I am obsessed with pores, skin, etc. Anyway, I got to keep this conch shell and his hat that said, 'Plumbers have Bigger Tools.' That my friends, is some good memorabilia of a grandfather.

So,our family was coming from out west to visit again, and they wanted to go to the beach for the day. Now I have not been on a beach vacation since Ethan was born, so I am suffering from some major withdrawal. Not only that, my kids don't even remember the beach! Can you imagine that? This is some major neglect going on.

In preparation for this day, I explained the beach to Kendall and Ethan. I told them all about the waves and what we could do with the sand. They asked about sharks, I promised there was no sharks, what are they crazy?!!? I went to bed each night leading up to the day praying that the Lord would not bless Harvey Cedars with a shark sighting on the day we were to be there. They wanted to know why we were not taking a plane to the beach. I mean, we hardly ever went there, it must be far, like Disney World. I explained we would be taking the van, that it would take a little bit of time, but we could most certainly drive, Daddy is not Donald Trump, and we were not hitting up Atlantic City.

Jacob was running a high fever the day we were to go. I was panic ridden the night before, certain that we couldn't go due to this illness, and I would break Kendall's heart because it was all she talked about. I mean E talked about it too, but really, he talked about it because Kendall talked about it, much like everything else he talks about. In his little head, I am certain that the beach was simply a pool surrounded by sand, and we can do that any old day. So back to Jacob, you know him, the third child? Well he was burning up, and not only is it just plain difficult to take a newborn to the beach, but a sick one did just not fly. I didn't want to leave him sick and all with just anyone so I could worry and feel like s terrible mother all day. So in swept our hero, Daddy Dearest, who said he would take the day off to stay with Jake. What an awesome man, have you met him?

And we get there, much to Beatrice's, the british lady on the Tom Tom that wanted to get me lost, dismay. 'Turn right in 50 yards.' 'Opps, continue to the nearest turn around point and head back, make a left in 25 yards.' Seriously? Why are they british, telling me how to get somewhere in America, and how do I know what 25 yards is exactly? My grandmother informed me that a football field was 100 yards, so that should give me an idea. Again, what? Stupid GPS'.

So we arrive on Long Beach Island. Not only have I not been to the beach in a few years, but, I have not been to LBI since I graduated high school. I forgot how much I loved this little town. It's a classic beach town, nothing gaudy, and people ride the street on beach cruisers in bare feet. I guess you could do this anywhere, but doing it here makes it all that more nostalgic. We get all ready, load up our arms, and begin the walk to the beach. Because that is what you do, you set up a mini camp on the beach, you take all your arms can carry, because you never know what you might need, and the car is a 5 minute walk away, and that is far.

Ethan insisted that he be the leader. And he is getting pretty clever, more on that in another entry, but I can read that kid's mind like it's my job, which it is I suppose, and we are still attached by an umbilical cord, it's a medical phenomenon. So he does not announce aloud that he wants to be the first person to see the ocean, because that would mean he would have some competition, so his little legs picked up speed on the little boardwalk to the beach. Almost to the top he exclaims, 'I am going to see the ocean first!' And when he reached the top, of the dune he froze. His head slowly went from left to right taking in the size of it all. And then he takes off again.

Mind you. This child is the cautious child. Always proceeding to something new with a little trepidation. So I for certain thought that he would either a. take the entire day to even stick his feet in the ocean, and then love it when we had to leave, or b.not want to go near it at all and scream like he does at the sight of clowns at the mere suggestion of sticking a toe in. Did I ever mention this kid and clowns? I mean terrified, he screams like a mass murderer is coming after him with a hatchet when one is near. Panic takes over his face, and his facial expressions are so large and animated that you swear he is about to fall over and just die from fear. He looks at a picture of a clown and shudders. But he is not stopping and here I am tossing everything into a heap and racing to grab his hand before the first wave hits him. Thank goodness Jacob was not with us, he might have landed on top of the umbrella. It smacks into him and I let him fall. First lesson of the ocean, it is really strong. Since he was showing no fear, I wanted to instill a little, I have that healthy fear of the ocean, like if you don't mind your manners, you are getting a huge mouthful of salt and sand to choke on. But he gets up laughing hysterically, wanting more. Kendall right beside him, thinking that it is just hilarious that the water is not flat like a pool. She wants her swimmies so she can go swim out in it really far. Wonderful. You never think about the exact opposite of a situation being worrisome also. I found that out real fast. Kendall found out real fast about sand in the pouch of the bathing suit. That it feels real comfy. Nothing like feeling like you have a load in your pants that is chafing you at the same time.

So after some battles with the waves, they took to the sand. And they looked like sand monsters, sand sticks so well to suntan lotion, what fun!

Kendall and E played with Carson and Kaitlyn all day long.

At one point my sister took my begging daughter out into the ocean in between the yellow flags. I will just go ahead and say, that is what just plain sucks about the Jersey Beaches, you have to swim between the yellow flags so the life guards can save you a little easier. I call this laziness. So everyone is all crammed together like a public pool, and people who insist on body surfing in this tight space get to annoy the crap out of you. Kendall quickly learned that it is not so fun way out there with or without your swimmies since a wave took them in the first two minutes. Kendall was screaming and crying telling me she was 'never going in the deep end of the ocean again!' 'How could Aunt Chelley do that' to her!?!??! But once we got back to the 'little end,' in front of our chairs, she was happy to jump and splash again, and scowl at her aunt.

Now my grandmother. I say it like I am nothing like her, but I am just the exactly the opposite, and just like her. She believes firmly that when you go somewhere you are going to experience it all. And when you go to the beach, you get the sea gulls. She decides it might be fun for the kids to feed them and watch them swarm. Yes, she was the person on the beach you want to drop kick because they are feeding the seagulls.

Once it was done, this one gull didn't take the hint, and stuck around for leftovers. Carson named him Bob, and a friend was made. He just sat there amongst us. We fed him by hand and Kendall even stuck a goldfish cracker in her lips, and Bob came up and grabbed it right out. Now had she not thrown the goldfish crackers into the air, we would have never met Bob. See what I am saying? Experience life a little, feed the seagulls.

When it was time to leave Ethan did not want to budge. It was 6 pm, and him and my mother could have stayed there till dark. A beach bum in the making. We promised him that next summer we would stay over at the beach for a lot of nights in a house. OBX we are coming home...

So there is still some sand in my van's carpets. But it is almost time to vacuum it again, looks like we have to go back for some more.

Vacation All I Ever Wanted...

2010-07-31T23:13:00.007-04:00

The Go-Go's wrote that song about vacation. However it was really 'all they ever wanted,' because she was trying to get away and over a guy, and she thinks that the vacation was meant to be spent alone. I don't know, even if I was trying to get over a guy, I don't think I would want to be alone. And that really doesn't even make much sense, I mean what therapist would recommend you going away alone after a bad break up? I could see some reflection time, but a whole vacation alone? How boring.

It's good to know that most likely for the rest of my life, I will never be on vacation alone. That is what comes along with reproduction, the insurance that if you want to be with someone, you can be. It's quite comforting really. Our friends and I take it one step further and think it's tons of fun to accumulate as much of our offspring all together and 'hang out.' Mostly all of our offspring are under the age of 8. We think that this will distract our children, and be great fun for us. But what it really is is, 'huh, what did you say, I can't hear you over the 76 children screaming their heads off! Wait what? Where's your Mommy, go tell her. Stop tattling. I don't care if Ryan only took two bites, you are taking five. Where's Tate? If you don't take time to go potty and you pee your pants, we are going home. No, you are not taking off all of your clothes and putting on a dress up. Where's Tate? I don't know if that is your juice box, who cares, just drink it, you all share the same germs anyway. Shut the gate! Where's Tate? Are you whining, if this isn't fun, we can go home, we can whine at home. There is 4,000 toys to chose from, why are you fighting over the same one? Where's Tate?' All this while attempting to have 'adult conversation.' What gets better is taking it on the road.

So year two, we head up to Shawnee. This year it was only two families since we only had one home to stay in. So there was only 7 kids under 8. Nope, I kid you not. Yeah, that's manageable, and sounds like a vacation, right? 7 kids, 4 adults, two bedroom home. And you say, this is where I make the u-turn on the highway and head home. However, these kids, they must have some good parents, because for the most part, you never would have known they were all jumbled together expected to be nice and play nice, and clear your plates, and go to bed at night, and sleep in in the morning. Oh wait...they all may not have slept in, but they were good. And I say it like I am shocked, because I was. Every night I would think, ok tomorrow is going to be melt down day, and it wasn't. Most especially due to minimal nappage, but they acted like troopers.

But here is the thing about vacation with multiple children. It's the packing. I tell you the van actually looked like I just folded up the house and put it in there. When you have a newborn, you really do take just about everything. Placing it all in the van so it fits with 3 children is another feat, and it is like a puzzle, and I am a control freak sometimes, so I loaded, both times. The makers of vans act like they are so smart. They brag about the comfort it provides for larger families. What about the families things? They give you this little box sized space the size of maybe a cooler and expect you to be ok. Get the turtle for the top...how dorky. Because if you really fill up the seats, that would be 7 people, now where are you going to fit 7 people's things? If we have another child one of these things will be occurring, we will have to rent a u-haul to go away, take an additional car, or promptly admit ourselves to the psych ward at the local hospital due to all the screaming that occurs from the lack of space for legs, arms, etc. I could hardly see the child that sat in the back row of the van. I could just see a head, maybe, if I peeked in at a certain angle.

If I may, I will just offer up the week in pictures, with captions, because when you do go away, some nice people want to see your pictures, and Trista wants to see them too, because her poor children will have no keepsakes of vacations when they were young because their parents didn't take pictures. For all they know they sat in their flooding basement and ate all summer. ;)

The annual pose on the stairs, this is minus 3 of the children. The oldest of the bunch was, 'too cool,' for the stairs and needed to have a better place...coming up, one of the youngest was asleep in his stroller, and can't sit yet, and the second to youngest was screaming her head off being me strapped into a stroller because she wanted to climb the stairs, but is too little.

Mr. & Mrs. Potato Head
I don't know, if you have ever seen the movie Toy Story, you know who Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head are. They are my favorite characters. They argue incessantly over the most mundane of topics because they are meant to resemble an old married couple. Enter, Gabby and Ethan. These two argued like this the entire week. At the time of this picture Gabby was asking Ethan in nagging tone, 'Why are you eating the green pop, you said you wanted the blue one, if you wanted blue why are you eating that?' And Ethan replied shouting, 'BECAUSE I CHANGED MY MIND!' And Gabby again,'but you wanted BLUE!!!!'

I don't know how these children do it a number of times a week and not jump off the trail in protest, but we make them hike from the home to the golf course while others are finishing golfing to meet them. It is not a long trail, maybe a mile total, but it begins with this steep hill, and usually there is only 2 of us convincing 7 kids that this is the greatest time ever! I bribe them with water and snacks. They can't have them until they reach the end destination with minimal complaining. I am all boot camp like that, don't call child protective services.

E on the hill, cursing his mother.

Then there was this child, who has grown so much in year. She thinks she has grown a lot more then that. So much so that at the age of one, she thinks she is an olympic swimmer and can be in the pool all by herself with swimmies on just like the other kids. This was the theme for her that week. Whatever the big kids did, she was doing too. You couldn't tell her otherwise, and how could you? Look how sweet she is.

My son, Mr. Potato, demonstrating for Mrs. Potato how not to get wet while wading in the water, because she, was not doing it properly. I got two words for this picture though in about 13 years...Black Mail.

My husband, my son, and my husband's really cool shades.

Trista and E. I do not think that Trista left the pool the entire time we were down at it, even after readily admitting her kids pee in it. Consider yourself warned!

The one that was too cool to pose with the 'little kids,' needed his own space and shot.

Ethan swimming by himself. Thank goodness for my husband teaching him how to swim alone with his swimmies before this vaca. My sanity appreciates it greatly.

Kendall and her dear friend.

One day another family of friends came up, with 3 children. So you know, now we have 10 children. But one thing we did not lack was food. And I must mention at this point that Jake ate four thick sliced pork roll sandwiches for lunch one day. I still can't decide if that is gross or amazing.

But they do have some pretty snazzy swimsuits.

E and his BFF who came up to visit for the day.

Apparently someone it is also uncool to get a photo with your mama.

Our little man, his Daddy, and his Daddy's really cool shades, again.

Stay Puff! I love chunky babies!

Waking from a nap in the sunshine...now that's vacation.

Gotta love catching them being silly.

So I am thinking 2 years into it, that going away on vacation with friends is a good tradition, especially when you find some friends you can live with in close quarters for a week and come out the other end smiling, knowing even more about each other, like who can and cannot do dive rolls. The memories the kids will have will be endless and silly. I hope one day one of them writes a book. I hope that they too cram as many friends as they can into a vacation home because if you look real closely, admidst all that chaos is smiling faces.

He might be a Giant!

2010-07-15T00:10:00.006-04:00

So when does one become a little nervous about the eventual size of their child? I just have to wonder at 10 weeks old did Shaquille O'Neal's mom have a hard time bathing her child, because he no longer fit in the baby tub, but it was way to early to actually put him in a regular tub without him drowning or her killing her back?

As I look at these photos I envision the class photos with him in the back row on the end, looking as though he might be on stilts because he is 2 feet taller then his classmates. I think of his shins and feet hanging over the end of the twin bed because he is to tall to fit. I see him ducking through doorways or smacking his head on the ceiling fans.

This child is over the 100th percentile for his height at his age. What does that mean anyway? We know his brother is going to be tall, he already wakes up in pain in the middle of the night from growth spurts with his toes pointed yelling, 'my legs, my legs!!' But never in the 100th percentile. Will this child be like Andre the Giant? Will I have to build him a special house in the back yard like Emily Elizabeth did for Clifford? At least we know this for sure, that being in the 100th percentile for height means you will never get picked last in gym class.

But to me he is still a tiny little man, 10 weeks old. He still looks small and cuddly in his crib...for some reason I think, to me, it will always be like this super sized, or not.

'Any child can tell you that the sole purpose of a middle name is so he can tell when he's really in trouble.'

2010-07-14T22:10:00.013-04:00

I can attest that the first exciting thing about having a child is getting to name it. Something about that sheer control that not only has the power to display your personality and style, but also shape someone for the rest of their life. I mean you can pretty much name your kid Dorkus if you wanted to, and they are bound to be the nose picker and eater, I am sorry but they are. And my kids pick their noses and have been seen taking a little lick time and again, but its all about the consistency of it, and Dorkus picks her nose and eats it all day long. That's mean, but come on.

The above child has been watching to much 'Toddlers and Tiaras' for my liking, every photo taken is now a model pose. Like she may just win Best in Show.

Now when we found out we were having a girl, right away we knew her name was to be Kendall. That is the thing about the first born, there are names you pick out for your kids long before you have kids if you are a loser like me, maybe my name should have been Dorkus, but anyway, these are typically the names of the first borns.

Back in the day, in the early days of reality t.v., on MTV there was this show Road Rules, and on one of the first seasons there was a girl named Kendall and I absolutely loved the name, I wished it was my name. You know you have wished for a name other then your own at some point in your life, I did this a lot, but when Kendall came about I was 16 or 17, and I decided that this would be the name of one of my little girls. I introduced the name to Andy when we were for sure that we were having a girl and bada bing, it was done. Now it is formally Kendall Anne, and Anne was an easy pick given that almost all of the first born girls in my mother's family's recent history has the middle name Ann. My mom messed a little bit with the tradition and put an 'e,' on the end of my Ann, so I did the same for Kendall. Once you mess up history, its imperative to keep it going, so that it eventually corrects itself, or the result is even better. Like I know what I am saying. I think my mom thought it was cool at 19 to give my middle name some flair, so she did, rebel I tell you. Now Kendall actually means; valley of the River Kent,and Ann actually means; gracious, so essentially she is named after a gracious river valley. Didn't really pay attention to name meaning on that one.

Above photo taken by the reigning Miss Prairie Ct. Supreme Princess.

Now Ethan was also an easy one. I love the name Ethan, love, love, love it, and that is really all there was to it. I just had to have Andy buy into it. And I simply said, won't it be fun to yell, 'Good hit, E!', from the stands at one of his games? Sold. I am really into boy names that have a nickname that is sporty and a little catchy, and E, is just that. However, he is occasionally referred to as Ebee as well. Quick background, there was a show Kendall watched when Ethan was first born and it's main character was, 'Ebee,' and there was a song, 'Ebee, Ebee, abee, abee, baby...,' and so on and so forth and I would sing this song to him. So when Kendall was learning to talk she referred to Ethan as Ebee, and she still does,let's hope for his sake, she stops soon. And with Ethan's name meaning I paid a little more attention, since my daughter is again, a river valley, Ethan means; firm, strong. Ethan's middle name is Thomas, which is my father in law's name, and I had no problem agreeing to his. Thomas is a good name when you are choosing to represent someones name in your offspring. Because let's face it, there are those that have father in law's with the name, Eugene, or Ralph, or Gaylord, or something, and I apologize, but father in law or not, no thanks. Thomas simply means; a twin, which neither of them are, but whatever, again it was a gesture of representation, recognizing Andy's dad. Just don't call him E.T.

Time and time again people who watch the soap, 'All My Children,' asked me if I too watched it, apparently two of the characters on the show are Kendall and Ethan. The answer for the 459th time is, no, just a coincidence, I had no idea. But wouldn't that be weird if I named my kids after my favorite soap characters?

Then we find out during this third baby that we are going to have a boy. Before I could even show Andy the ultrasound pic with the goods as clear as day, he states, 'we are going to name him Jacob.' I immediately get the image in my head of Andy as some Indian tribal leader holding my naked son into the air, proclaiming, 'his name shall be Jacob.' I am really all random like that, it's not just for show, I promise.

Jacob's middle name is Michael, my dad's name. Michael is a good middle name, because set alone as the first name makes me nervous. Every Michael, my dad included, I have ever know is trouble, a rebel if you will. I have no idea why the name in fact means, 'who is like God,' but you know what the interesting part is is that when the meaning is listed, a question mark follows and it is written, 'Who is like God?' Like there was a little hesitancy there, like; 'really, are you sure about this one, did you see what he did to the neighbors garden with his dirt bike, did you hear he stole his parent's car last night and went on some joy ride across the interstate with all his friends?' And I love my dad, that is why Jacob has the middle name Michael, but I can't just have a freestanding Michael, especially for the third child. I am testing fate even having it sit in the middle, I can feel the personality of the name wanting to jump out. My dad would totally agree.

Jacob is the name of Andy's closest friend, and I couldn't think of someone better to name my son after, and I immediately agree with the chief and his name choice. The name Jacob was never in the list of baby names, so no, it isn't a coincidence, we did in fact name him after Jake. This did give my son a lot to live up to, again no coincidence. We were naming our son after one of the most loyal and loving people we know. He is an incredible person, friend, father, and husband, you lucky girl Trista, how could we not let our son have this namesake? The actual meaning of Jacob, is supplantar, but to us it means something completely different. We of course will let our Jacob know exactly why he was given his name. Andy is so fortunate to have this friend who will stand by him and lift him up through anything. We have already begun to pray that our little Jake becomes a man of such integrity and humility as well.

It is the first name out of our three children that holds a deep meaning and purpose to us, not just because it sounds pretty, or because it has a cool nickname. I mean I hope that Kendall and Ethan both love their names, I think they are pretty nice. But I hope to raise them to be people that hold names that other people choose to name their children after, beyond tradition, or juniors, or because it was my great great grandfather's name. We chose to name our baby Jacob because that is how much we think of Jake. And ok, so 'Awesome pass Jake!', does sound pretty good when yelled from the sideline.

Part Deux

2010-07-08T23:09:00.004-04:00

And so it continues...

At this point one may become very relaxed. Third delivery, control of the tv remote, the newest edition of People Magazine to read, all that is missing is some food, and I was getting hungry. To all those preggos out there, my one piece of advice is to get yourself something to chow down on after you give birth. I don't mean like, call someone after you are all settled in recovery, and you are holding your sweet child that just tore up everything in the netherlands. I mean bring it with you, or have someone on call that once they have heard you have popped that sucker out they are in route with the goods. (and doing 95 mph, in route to the hospital) The hunger that overtakes your body is unreal. It's like some hungry beast has taken over your stomach and it will not calm itself until it has eaten a 12 inch hoagie, a bad of chips, some pickles, and a diet pepsi, because you know, you have to start the weight loss at some point.

Now once you are all in the birthing area and a few hours before, you are not allowed to eat. Now I lied and said I had nothing that morning, but really, I had a banana, they looked so good. And if I was going to have to have a c-section and vomit and then asperate on a banana, it was a good one at the very least. But that was oh, 9 hours ago, and I was in this in between stage where they were pumping the pitocin and all I was feeling was a little tension every few minutes, but nothing that would overtake the hunger. And in the corner of my eye I see the bag, and there they sit, my birthing team, chowing down on some Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. And I will go ahead and say it 'WTF!?!?!' Uh, hello, kind of in labor here. Don't mind me or anything, you just go ahead and eat your snacks like you are watching TLC from your couch. We are live people, and I can't eat!?!?!' My sister looks at me, and just asks meekly, 'did you want me to go and get you more ice chips?' I mean they are good and all. They were the ice chips that get all crispy on the outside and you can chew them bc they are a little mushy like that, but they were not Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Some team.

I was watching the Boob Tube and reading my mags once I promised to give them all sucker punches once I was allowed up again, and kept seeing previews for the Oprah of that day. It was the one with Laura Bush being interviewed. And for some reason I am intrigued by President's wives and children, and I wanted to see it. And I pronounced that I wanted this baby out so that I could watch Oprah that day.

Then my doctor, the 8th dwarf, comes in for the first time. I am at 6 centimeters and have been at 6 centimeters for 2 hours. He tells the nurses to keep pumping the pitocin up and up. He comes in an hour later, nothing. 6 centimeters. He starts to get a little concerned, he isn't going to make me sit there for 5 days like this, and if nothing was happening, well there might be a c-section. My contractions are not consistent or long enough. And I ate that banana! He tells them to keep pumping it up. I can now start to feel more and more pressure and some pain. Uh oh. I hate it when an epidural doesn't work like its supposed to. I want to be paralyzed people until that baby is all wrapped up and nice and clean and the placenta is planted in our front yard. But the baby's heart rate looked good, and he was showing no adverse side effects to the high level of pitocin, and I had come this far. This kid was coming out the vag, no turning back. They kept asking me how I was feeling, and I was getting queasy, but in no way was I going to tell them that the pitocin was getting to me. If Baby Jacob was sucking it up, so would I.

And then it was 4 p.m. Oprah. Laura, hello. Barbara, Jenna, so nice. But it wasn't all that nice, because the pain was getting worse. The highest level of Pitocin is 30, and I was at 28. And then just as Oprah is about to say her goodbyes to the former first lady, it occurs to me that I feel like I have to poop. Like let all my insides out poop and that I need to massively push, NOW! The nurse comes in I tell her, she goes to get the 18 year old, and things start buzzing around the room. The ceiling opens bringing down the mega light. Now when the mega light comes down you know it is time to give birth. So when you see this light, if you don't know or cannot feel anything, I am here to tell you that you are going to give birth shortly.

Mind you, my husband, out at the bathroom. Yeah he is all on top of it like that. In his defense I was 6 centimeters when he left 10 minutes before that and all talking about the Bush's Texas Ranch, but in comes the resident and I am 9 centimeters, and I tell her, I am pushing. In walks speedy the 8th dwarf, and with the next push I am 10.

Here is my philosophy. They are going to turn your epidural down as you are giving birth so that you can sense when and how to push. So you better get as much as you can out of it while you can, and I push like a freakin' mule. They tell me to do two sets of 8 counts, I do three. That kid is moving. I grab onto the hand rails and show no mercy. My sisters are holding on to my legs and Andy buzzes into the room, saying, 'what we are pushing already?!?!' Was he not ready for me to push 3 weeks ago, now it is already?

He stands at my head and then goes to my feet, cheering me on like veteran he is. I then feel it. The burning! Everyone is cheering that they can see the head, and the burning. I feel like a forest fire is erupting, send in the helicopters with the giant vat of water to pour on me. I ask them if I am almost done. Mistake. 'No, sweetie keep pushing, the head is coming!' What? I am feeling all this and you are telling me that basically you can just see a tiny fragment of the baby's head when I push. I then start flipping out, and I am back to Ethan's birth. Nope, can't do it. Pack up my things, I am out of here, the baby is not coming out. Then my doctor tells me to push like I am mad at Nancy. Nancy is my nurse. And he wants me to push like I am mad at her? Why would I be mad at Nancy, the woman who has stood faithfully by my side all day? How about you for making me push!?!?! I am now screaming at everyone. It is when I look back on this that I think of the poor girl the next room over in labor for the first time, and she hears me yelling that I can't do it and it hurts so bad I want to die. Some mentor I am.

Then he tells me to stop pushing. This is the point where I want to push and finish off my imminient demise. A little turn of the head I am guessing, he tells me to push one more time, and there is Jacob, coming out, being lifted under the grand light, and being placed on top of me. Andy is handed the scissors to set him free, and there is my little man. And all of it just goes away. Everyone in the room, all the pain and there is my Jacob.

After a bit, they take him to his little baby area to clean him up and do his little testing. He is 8 pounds 15 ounces, and is 22.5 inches long, and he was born at 5:34 p.m. A good little steward, he let Mommy enjoy her Oprah before torturing her.

My sisters and my Andy were great coaches, they got to witness the birth of my little man, and pulled me through, and promptly gave me my Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and a diet pepsi, remember, post baby diet starts when you deliver the placenta...right...until...

My parents were called and the order for a Dairy Queen Blizzard put in. Which by the way was gigantic! My dad told the girl to give her the size she would want if she had just pushed out a 9 pound baby. Yeah, I ate every last bite.

And then in came the big sister and brother. Instant pros and instant sibling rivalry and love. 'I want to hold him,' 'No, I want to show him his toy!' 'I want to sit with Mommy,' 'No, I get watch Mommy feed him.' 'He is so cute!' 'Can we take him home now?'

My sister the next day texted me with, 'my arms are killing me,' from me pushing against them. I quickly text back, 'my vagina is killing me,' then prompt response, 'ok you win.'

Kendall and Ethan have over exceeded expectations and they have gone on with a few bumps, but no potholes, and are in love with their brother, and Mommy's big helpers.

I would like to comment on the disinterest upon the face of the child above. Like she is doing some terrible chore! And then comment further on the length of that baby, see his leg way over there? This kid is going to be huge. He will be taller than me in Kindergarten.

We are a family of five now, well plus our furry mascots, and although we are busy, we are content.

To those about to go through it, don't worry you forget the feeling of the pain...I forget it the instant I see the baby, and it is without a doubt, my most personal and best experiences of my life.

The Chubbiest Cheeks in America and that visual proof of the Lyons chin going on and on...poor family tree...oh yeah, and in the background is a little piece of my awesome Vera Bradley Diaper Bag, compliments of my really awesome P-Court Posse. Yes, I did just refer to them and use the word, Posse. And the really sweet blanket that my aunt made that I am pusing on Jacob to be his blankie. It is reversible, one side Phillies, one side Eagles, you know whatever fits your fancy.

Birth Story Part One: The Birth of the Child with the Chubbiest Cheeks and the passing on of the Lyons' Awesome Chin Gene to Another Generation.

2010-07-07T14:33:00.004-04:00

So I look at this nine week old and I think, 'where did the baby go?' He is cooing, he is smiling, he is jibber jabbering. Which is my favorite thing to do. Have a conversation with a jibber jabber. You can make up any old story and they will make noises and sounds that seem to follow suit. I was sitting next to another mom the other day with an 8 week old, and she was watching Jacob and I. She leaned over and said, 'is this something he picked up in the last week. because my baby doesn't do this.' A genius I tell you! Baby Jacob is advanced and the smartest baby on earth! No really, I gave this explanation, and it is simply this; Jacob is the third child. It is noisy as all get out in our home, therefore he needs to chime in to keep up. It's merely a survival skill. Whomever is the loudest clearly gets the most attention. I also will admit that to keep my sanity, there are moments when he and I go off to some quiet corner and I tell him all my troubles, and he answers me with sweet smiles, and jibber jabber, and it is very therapeutic.

I suppose I need to add a birth story or it will be awkwardly late to add one I think.

Jacob, the moose, was late. I marched into my first overdue doctors appointment 5 days after his due date, and exclaimed, 'I do not care what you think, I am uncomfortable, this baby measured large, therefore he is large, he is past his due date which I know for certain is his due date due to going to a fertility specialist, and I want him out!' The doctor looked at me, it was the first time I had seen this doctor in my practice, and I think she wanted it to be the last time she saw me. In her Jamaican accent she asks me, 'Is this your first child?' To which I reply exasperated, 'NO!! My third, I know when the goose is cooked!' She looks at the ultrasound I had gotten two and a half weeks before when I was certain they were taking me that day, and she says, 'you poor woman, yes, yes, lets get him out of there.' Uh, hello? Where was she in the middle of April!?!? That is what I have been trying to tell you people!

I go to check out, with instructions to schedule my induction with the girls up front. I am 2 days, just 2 days away from being 41 weeks, and she says, 'oh that is too bad, we could take you tomorrow, but you aren't 41 weeks yet, your insurance wants you to be 41 weeks to induce unless there is an emergency.' I look at her and say, 'Just click the delete button, and put me at 41 weeks, I won't tell a soul.' She didn't, but assured me she was making the call, and would have me put in early the next week, since inductions did not happen over the weekend. She then gave me a pep talk saying, 'I bet you will go over the weekend anyway.' Apparently she had not met my uterus. My uterus is as thick as a concrete wall, there ain't nothing come out of there unless you have got yourself a jack hammer.

She calls, first available date is Tuesday, but the doctor who will deliver Jacob, Speedy, the 8th dwarf, wants me to go for testing on Monday, and to get my cervix covered in some cream that was going to "help me dilate". Mind you, uterus of steel, same dilation since 37 weeks; I was sitting pretty at maybe 2 centimeters. Well, pretty might be a stretch, I was sitting fat, swollen, and miserable at maybe 2 cenitmeters.

We go to the testing at 8 a.m., baby is as snug as a bug, and not in the slightest bit of distress. We then go back to the hospital at 6 p.m. for the cream. Andy wanted them to take me right then and there. He was ready for this baby to be out 3 weeks ago, and his patience was growing thin. I really think he wanted some time off work, and hey a baby is a pretty good reason. The delivery rooms were a wall away and when you are that close to the finish line, when it comes to my husband, come what may, he will get there. Apparently he does not get my anatomy while pregnant. No matter what modern science has come up with, I will not go into labor until my body is good and ready, or has given up the fight against nature, and just releases the beastly thing, which takes a really long time.

We go home to my parents house, because they were going to watch the kids and were much closer to the hospital. I start having contractions, pretty strong ones. But they sit 6 minutes apart maybe lasting a minute, and they never get more consistent, and they never get stronger. I give up and go to sleep. So much for the miracle cream. I think it was just Vaseline and they put it on to make whiny mom's shut up at least until the next morning.

The next morning the hospital was going to call anytime from 5 am to 9 am for me to come in. So I am piddling around, and Andy is pacing. Waiting is not really a strong suit of his. He can't even wait for water to boil. Every 5 minutes he would ask, 'did they call yet,' to which I would reply, 'are you not in the same room as me? Did you hear my phone ring?' I go to get a shower and at 8:30 they call. The Hallelujah chorus begins. I am at the hospital by 9:30.

I am dropped off at the door while Andy went to park. I am excited about this silent walk to the Labor and Delivery part of the hospital, the last time waddling anywhere and to collect my thoughts. But almost every other person I pass is a woman, saying, 'oh been there,' or something of the sort, or a doctor asking if I need a wheelchair, or someone giving me the silent smile, that holds the expression, 'yup, know just how you are feeling,' and then I would have to give the same smile back. Like a soldier going into battle passing the soldier that just left the battle or will go in after you are done. It is similar to the wave that one person that is riding a motorcycle gives to another. Which always cracks me up. Seriously. I am thinking of maybe when I pass another van of the same make as mine, squirting them with a juice box and vice versa, as a recognition that we are both listening to whining kids, and the same songs over and over again, while sitting on snack crumbs and driving with sticky fingers from the juice that spilled on the car seat buckle two weeks ago, and driving the same van. Look out Cherie!

I get all dressed up in my really hot hospital gown and those fun scratchy socks and waddle my way over to the bed. Andy comes in right after that. 'Did they hook you up to the pitocin? Where is the pitocin? Let's get this show on the road!' You know, checking my vitals, giving me some fluid, getting the proper supplies, all not valid reasons to my husband as to why I was not on the pitocin, contracting, pushing out a baby all in 20 minutes of arrival. Again, the whole waiting thing, not so much a fan of it, try living with him.

About an hour later, in prance my sisters, Meghan and Michelle, the last two members of the birthing team. I had given them the option when I got pregnant with Jacob to be in the delivery room if they wanted to. I had never witnessed a live birth before having Kendall, and I kind of wish I had, to kind of know what to expect. You know I like to start with my best foot forward, and I didn't, and I was a royal mess with her, and had no idea what was going to happen to me next. So I graciously presented them with this option of witnessing a gory mess that produces a beautiful child. My sister Meghan had been prepped by my mother for a week or so before hand, 'Meghan, if you feel like you are going to pass out, step away.' See my sister has this whole fainting thing going on, and she isn't really a fan of blood and bodily fluids, not so much an m.d. candidate.

So like I said, the prance in, and they sit, and they look at me in all my birthing glory, hooked up to monitors, wearing a hideous garb, and basically just a big fat blob. It is written all over their faces, 'wonder how long this is gonna take.' If this experience taught them anything, it taught them that birthing a child is no episode of 'Baby Story,' and over lickity split. This is an all day process, make yourselves comfortable.

So I get hooked up to the pitocin at about 10 am, and things start going, and it is a little mind game I begin to play with myself. Let's see how long I can wait before begging for the epidural. I see the computer monitor, I see the mountains going up and going down.

Then a resident comes into break my water. Welcome to the Big Show girls. The resident is with a medical student who looks like she is 16, and she is going to assist a girl, the resident, that looks like she is 18, with breaking my water with what looks like a knitting needle. My sisters come over to the bed to hold my hand, and the 18 year old begins her journey to my cervix, and twists and turns as I writhe in pain about to kick the 16 year old in the face, and then 'pop!' The floodgate is opened, and I am about to tell everyone to hop on the bed and grab life jackets on the way out because this water came rushing out in mad force, I thought we were going to be floating down Old York Rd. within seconds.

By 11:30, I am pissed about the pain. People are asking me questions and I am pissed that they even bother asking me how I am. How dare they even talk to me!?!? When in pain I am one of those crazy people that wants people around them but doesn't necessarily want the people addressing them or the issue at hand. I want them to be concerned, but not ask me what they can do to help. It's a little twisted, I know. But it's pain, it is my cervix that is going crazy, and it is my vagina that is going to birth a child the size of a large watermelon. I agree with my mind that I am going to make it to noon, and then ask for the epidural. Not so sure why I had to play this mental game with myself, its like I was trying to prove to myself that I am in fact She-ra. So at noon, not a minute later, I ask for the epidural. At 12:45, the anesthesiologist that my husband almost knocked out comes in. (long story, but in the end he conceded to keep his mouth shut, which was a good idea since the man was about to stick a needle into my spine) By 1 p.m., I am in another land, a peaceful one with no pain or unhappy endings.

To be continued...Birth Story Part Deux, The Birth of the Child with the Chubbiest Cheeks and the passing on of the Lyons' Awesome Chin Gene to Another Generation.

You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance. ~Franklin P. Jones

2010-06-16T22:40:00.007-04:00

Holy Moly life with three is absolute chaos. Nope, I ain't going to lie and sugar coat it, you know you won't find that here. It takes at least 2 hours to go anywhere, including the mailbox, and I said, 'at least.' My Grandmother is still doing my wash for me, otherwise we would be all strutting around here naked. My kids do not eat meals at normal times, it gets to be 2 in the afternoon and I look at them, and go, 'what you are hungry again, we had breakfast at 8 a.m., your day certainly cannot be going as fast and as slow as mine.'

It is possible people to have your day move fastly slow. For instance today, we took Jacob to the doctor, bright and early. I had to get 3 children fed, dressed, peed, and in the van by 8:30 a.m. This began at 6. By 10 a.m. we had been to the doctor, Kendall stunk up the restroom there while she and E laughed hysterically out loud for all to hear that it was quite possibly, 'the worst smelling poop ever!'Ethan then promptly got his fingers pinched by an elevator door, then fell in the parking lot and skinned a knee, and Jacob, following in his sister's footsteps dropped a major deuce, which went up the back of his onesie, that Kendall then stepped on on her way out the door when we got home. And then I looked at the clock again and it was 3 pm, and I really feel as though I have done nothing, but we are all alive, and this is all that matters. And yet I sit and wonder, why am I not in my jeans yet? It is pitiful. I also laugh when I think to myself, 'gosh two was so easy.' My two tyrants, 13 months apart going for over 3 years now was easy, if I could go back in time and tell myself that I would have said this I could have saved myself alot of sanity.

But I love little Jacob. My little red headed screamer.

He cries a lot, and let me tell you that if this was my first child I would have secured that baby in that little bouncy seat, informed a friend, and ran straight out my front door and would not have stopped until I reached the Pacific Ocean. We are still trying to figure out the tears, and I do exaggerate a lot, I suppose. I mean he does coo and smile just as much. But with the tears you feel such empathy and tension at the same time, and all he is really doing is telling me that he; a. feels like a piece of crap, b. has to fart, c. is exhausted, d. is hungry, or e. wants to drop kick his brother and sister because their terroristic shouting is driving him crazy. Red headed boys have this connotation surrounding their existence that they are 'fiery.' I will keep you posted. He does have a lot of explosions out of the caboose,one might categorize as fiery, but we shall see. All I know is that it goes fast. Soon he will think that passing gas is hysterical, not life threatening. So for right now I am going to just kiss those chunk cheeks all day long. I mean they were made for that.

Birth Story to come...

In Hibernation Mode

2010-05-31T14:20:00.003-04:00

When I figure out how to blog and take care of an infant and 2 needy preschoolers, I will certainly update. But for now I am just going to sit around and sniff, 'big red's', head and snuggle and snuggle some more. Officially, Jacob Michael's arrival came on May 4th at 5:34 pm. He weighed 8 pounds, 15 ounces and was 22.5 inches long. He was induced, he was all back labored, my tail bone still hurts like heck. I will provide the birth story soon. He has some nice red, well orange, hair, and he is mine all mine!

“[Watching a baby being born] is a little like watching a wet St. Bernard coming in through the cat door.” ~Jeff Foxworthy

2010-04-28T10:36:00.002-04:00

So I am here to say that when it comes to the inducement of labor through some home remedies it is really just a waste of time. Let me just break it down for you, real simple. I am also going to give you my fair warning, that this post is not censored in anyway, so consider yourself warned, (men).

O.k. first things first.

Walking. Pretty sure I could walk to visit my friend Christine in China for tea and back and still not go into labor. I realize that this is impossible, you do not have to remind me, but I am looking at the distance of it. She is the furthest person away from me presently. Our library is about a mile walk away, give or take a few steps. We had some things due last friday so I loaded up the Radio Flyer with 73 pounds worth of children and about 10 of books and movies, and embarked on my journey. Andy asked upon my departure, what are you going to do if you go into labor on the way there or back? I really had no plan. I am sure someone could come pick us up as I lie screaming in the fetal position on the trail and traumatized my young children for life. It doesn't matter, nothing happened anyway. I passed another Mom on the way, she took one look at me and asked, 'trying to go into labor?' I replied, 'exactly!' She replied, 'best of luck.' And we continued on our ways. I have come to realize that we women are a little strange. Hauling close to 100 pounds at 9 months pregnant, and the only people who are not going to be concerned is another woman who has been in the same spot. Who cares if we give birth right there amongst nature? The baby is out. Mission accomplished.

We have also walked other places, like all over Kohl's for 2 hours pushing their double stroller cart which is like pushing a small locomotive. I mean at least if my water broke, they had some towels handy, and some pants, and I am pretty sure they would have given me an awesome discount.

I have also worked. And I have pushed my med cart up and down hallways and willingly volunteered to do rounds to walk briskly up and down hallways to no avail. Although I did feel like a royal piece of crap after being on my feet for 8 hours, it wasn't the result I was intending.

Now I walk with a limp and I move slower then a 95 year old woman who uses a walker, we raced. And since I have mentioned before that in many cases songs come to my head like a little soundtrack to my life, what comes to my mind when I get up and start walking is 50 cent, 'In Da Club,' and it is tremendously annoying. At one point he says, 'I been hit with a few shells, but I don't walk with a limp.' It really has nothing to do with me limping, it just has the word limp in it and therefore it is in my head, so 'Go Shwaty, it's your birthday...' It's in your head now to. Annoying.

Squats. Somewhere I read squats help. I also read that bouncing on one of those giant exercise balls works also. I don't have one of those. There is one at church, but I think that people would think that it is a little strange that a fat pregnant lady is bouncing on a ball in the aisle to the worship band. So I decided to do some squats after walking up and down the stairs 20 times, taking them two at a time. I did about 20 squats while holding on the crib for good vibes or something like that, and then I was about to pass out. So I stopped. Now here comes the result. No baby, or contractions, but when I got out of bed the next day I was stuck in the squat position since my thighs were killing me. They still are today. I think that the squats and bouncing are to bring the baby into position, and since this child already is, and had been for three weeks, it was a little redundant. I can already feel the head in my crotch, so we won't be doing those again, ever. I mean don't you think it would get a little annoying to be doing a headstand for weeks on end? Not only that, imagine doing a headstand into like a piece of foam or something that encases your head and staying like that for even a day. I would be like, 'get me out of here!!!!" Not this kid.

Spicy Food. Did that one last night. Thanks to my awesome neighbors and friends, Phil and Sue. We had chicken fajitas better then they make in Baja. Not that I ever had fajitas from Baja, but I imagine they were better. I mean he cooked the seasoned chicken on the grill people, and they had every single topping imaginable. I had a very full belly, and loved every bite, but there was still nothing. It was definitely a craving met. And again, I say, this child is fed so well, no wonder he doesn't want to come out. Did I ever mention I love my neighbors?

I also have a pineapple ripening on the counter. I sent Andy to get it the other day after I read that they might work. I did not want it from a can, I wanted the real thing with all the acid, so I have to wait until it is good and ready. My entire mouth swells when I eat too much fresh pineapple, like more then 3 cubes, and my tongue gets all itchy. I refuse to admit that this is an allergic reaction because I love pineapple. So I get to the point where I sound like a blubbering fool when I talk, and then have a few more bites for good measure and scratch my tongue with my teeth all day long, its really attractive. There are other foods that are said to induce labor, none of which I enjoy, like Eggplant Parm or licorice. So I will just skip that, because the thought of eggplant parm, makes me want to barf.

Sex. I am not going to divulge into my sex life here. I have mentioned it before that sex when you are this big and pregnant is not only almost physically impossible, it just makes me want to laugh, which probably isn't very encouraging to your partner. I will just mention that this past Sunday when I was having contractions, someone said to me, 'you are having contractions because of me, right babe?' I just rubbed his back and said, 'if this baby comes out today honey, it was all you, congratulations.' I mean the man is being robbed in that area, so the least I can do is build up his ego.

Gardening. No really, I did this, and it resulted in that trip to the hospital. My Mom Mom, the kids, and I were getting the vegetable garden ready by turning over the soil. I picked up that hoe and went to town. What was the worst that could happen? My water would break or something. No, just contractions that started up dilation, which is something, but it did not finish its job. And although we will have really good tomatoes this summer, and I did get to go to the hospital, I was not more then 4 cm, so it was a waste of my time, now that I am typing about it still pregnant, a week later.

There are some other things you can try, that I read about, which I am not going to do at all. This kid could actually stay in for another month, and I would not. One of which is Nipple Stimulation. The entire thought of this is just weird to me. 'Oh don't mind me, I am just pinching my nips.' And they say to do it for 15 mins a side. What in the world? Who has that kind of time? And who would want to?

Castor Oil. Someone asked me if I was trying to poison myself, or something like that, when I mentioned Castor Oil, I won't name names here. It quickly hit me that he had no idea prior to me mentioning this that it was not motor oil, but in fact a natural laxative. I have mulled over this idea for a few minutes, and then remember that I panic in the face of loose stools. When I feel the rumble I am running for the Pepto, which of course backs me up for days, but I don't have to feel the cramping. I think it reminds me too much of birthing contractions, and I shudder. So I have thought to myself well they must go hand in hand, and then I think, if it doesn't work, I am screwed.

There are some herbs you can take, but I do not feel like spending time and money hunting these crazy hippy things down. I am a drug store/pharmacy girl, so really these home remedies have me a little skeptical, but I was willing to try them anyway. I know what will work, starts with a P, and it is Pitocin, and all you natural birthers can just go ahead and shake your head in shame, and I say back, Yeah Epidurals! Although this time might bite me. I have this feeling that unless I move my butt like it is on fire to the hospital when labor does start I will not get there in time for my shot of peace and tranquility, I mean it was invented for a reason. And I will then be arrested promptly after delivery for domestic violence because I beat up my husband, and property damage since I destructed the birthing suite.

There are many things out there that people say work for labor. I mean just google it and you have everything from eating tree bark, to doing somersaults. I will go ahead and eat my pineapple when it ripens, but my bets are now on an induction.

I would put some pics in here to highlight my attempts at inducing birth naturally, but you see my camera has been in the hospital bag in the van since last week, and I am just too lazy to go and get it out, and not only that, my legs are so sore from squats it would take me 30 minutes to get out there and back.

There have been some that have said to me, 'When the apple is ripe, it will fall from the tree.' I will just go ahead and refrain from the reply that my mind entices me to say aloud. You don't say things like this to a woman with the belly the size of a small island.

Hormones are Fun!

2010-04-23T10:34:00.006-04:00

A month has gone by since I blogged. What is that all about? I have been nesting I suppose, and growing, to the point that I do not think there could be anymore space in my body. I think that they are going to have to apply skin grafts to stretch my skin more, because the elasticity is shot. I mean the shear agony of thinking about all the flabby skin I will have to stuff into my jeans for like 3 years at this point is terrifying.

I am not overdue. Thank you to those who continually remind me. It's really sweet of you. Like that will make the situation any better. 'Oh well you are as big as freakin' Shrek,(little shout out to the movie we are watching), o.k., Fiona, in pregnant ogre form, and feel like knives are being shoved up your vagina, and that your lower back might actually erupt and leave you paralyzed, but you aren't actually due until Sunday.' Thanks for that. Or,'you haven't even dropped,' that's another personal favorite. I will remind you that you don't drop past your first pregnancy. Your body has already experienced this drop, and so, it will not happen again, your body has already been wrecked. But I don't say that out loud. I just smile and nod.

In this past month, I had an ultrasound for size check because one of my doctors thought that the baby may be a little large, and that it is always good to be aware of this before going into labor so that if it becomes necessary, we know why the head is not going past the hips. Funny that this doctor was a woman. Go figure. Now this was over a week ago, this little ultrasound, and keep in mind that the size may be off by a pound plus or minus. This child was looking to be about 8.6 pounds, one week ago. So technically it could have been 7.6 or 9.6. Now let's also keep in mind that each day they are in there they put on some weight, about a pound a week. You do the math. The doctor that came in to meet with me after the ultrasound said, 'well at this point it is not a monster baby, a large baby, sure, but not monster sized yet.' Uh, yet? My sister last night said to me, 'wouldn't it be funny if the baby came out and it was only 6 pounds!?!?' No it would not be funny, it would be a miracle. A gift from Sweet Jesus who decided to grace me with a blessing, a small child, with a pin head like his father. Have you seen my children's heads? Not gonna happen.

This week I went to the hospital due to the fact that I was having contractions for over 24 hours, but they were pretty inconsistent. Mind you, again, it was the female doctor who decided to send me in, just to be certain everything was ok, that the fluid levels were still up where they were supposed to be. And yes indeed, I was having contractions, no I was not past 2 centimeters dilated, and my fluid levels were fine. The nurse told me I could walk around the hospital and she would check me in an hour, or I could go home and be comfortable, able to rest, and eat and drink. I felt like an ass for coming in and so decided to go home, only wimps go to the hospital thinking they are in labor, didn't you know? But I mean here is the thing, my justification for being a wimpy ass, I am never the perfect going into labor girl. I have never and will never be 5 minutes apart lasting for one minute. It just doesn't happen. The nurse at the hospital said, 'well your contractions seem to be inconsistent, 20 mins, then 6, then 13.' No kidding, why do you think I am here!?!?! Now hook me up to the pitocin and let's call it a birthday. But, no, I waddled out, in pain, tired, actually hearing women screaming in labor and thinking, 'I wish that were me.' That is sick people, by the way. There is something hormonally wrong with you when you wish that.

At my appointment in the office yesterday the doctor said to me, 'well Lisa, the nurse you saw said she thought you were 50/50 on coming back last night in full fledged labor.' I assured him that it was not going to happen, and asked if that was supposed to make me feel better. I know my body. I know that at this point, since they are waiting until I am overdue to flag me, that my uterus heard that and completely gave up on me. I am going to give it some pep talks, maybe eat some spicy food for dinner tonight, and maybe, maybe have sex. There will be no promises. This is a subject all on its own, but how can sex be enjoyable when there is something the size of Mt. Everest standing in between you? I guess it isn't about 'enjoying,' anymore, per se. It is a possibility of a means to an end, so maybe. My poor husband, but then again, I wasn't the only one who contributed to this current state. So my uterus is going to have to completely take matters into its own hands. It is going to have to bust down some doors, kick the crap out of my water bag, and be in shear madness for it to want this child out. Because I will tell you, he is not going anywhere on his own.

He pronounced me almost 3 cm, 80% effaced after an exam that left me thinking his hand was going to come out the other side by means of my mouth. He was probably thinking, 'woman, you want this kid out, I will stretch the heck out of that cervix, and have you hunched over on the way out.' Well it didn't work. He said to me, 'we can't induce you until you are overdue, so after next weeks appt., we will set you up for an inducement. There is really no medical reason to have you induced earlier, hang in there.' I promptly responded, 'you mean my vagina exploding all over the delivery room due to the size of this child, is not a medical reason?' I really don't think he had heard that comment before, or expected to hear that comment from me, but he was left speechless with the nurse laughing hysterically. Part of my hopes he is in the delivery room, and so when he is stitching my up for 6 hours I can say, 'I warned you.'

I am definitely in crazed pregnant woman mode.

We are going walking today to the library. And I am pulling the wagon. I don't care. Stay out of my way!

Yes, actually I would like a little cheese with my whine.*

2010-03-24T10:21:00.003-04:00

I have decided that one of the first things I am going to do when I get to heaven is track Eve down. I am going to march right up to her and say, 'Hey thanks a lot for eating that apple.' Not that I might not have been tempted myself, but I wasn't offered a tainted apple.

Here is the good thing about pregnancy and consequently,child birth. The baby. The end.

I understand that there are women out there that would suffer through much more pain to have a child come from their womb. I sympathize with that, and at one point I was right there with them. I am still right there with you, doesn't make childbearing and birth, again, thanks to Eve, any better, but I just want to encourage you in the fact that the plan for you is greater. Could you just imagine? We were right there, saying well obviously we aren't supposed to get pregnant to raise a child, let's explore other options, and BAM, pregnant with Kendall. This my dear friends, let me tell you, is my challenge and purpose, this girl was given specifically to me. No doubt about it, chosen with humor and purpose. 'Ha Ha, you asked for this!' Not that Kendall isn't a wonderful child, and that I don't love every single ounce of her, she is just Kendall. Simply put; she is just Kendall. I have a strong faith in the fact that the desire to be a mother is not overlooked, the means may be different for each person, but it is there for a reason, and will be fulfilled if you are seeking actively to fill it.

However, with that said, the chosen method for me after much doubt that it would ever be this way, is through child bearing and birth. Not without its challenges and heartaches, which you can read about in my past blog entries, but none the less, this is the means to our end, our little cherubs. Does not mean in any way that it makes it any easier. Does not mean that I won't whine, because I will. Give me a podium, I will go on for days.

But I mean come on, 8 months pregnant with a sumo wrestler? This is just not funny anymore. I will be getting an ultrasound to check the size of this child within the next two weeks. My doctor asked me what my cut off was for vaginal birth. 10 pounds, I guess? My She-ra friend Trista says that I can do it, no matter what the size. Uh, yeah, have you seen the size of my children's heads? They themselves weigh 6 pounds at birth. She also seems to think that breastfeeding is a wonderful thing. Not knocking it, because I haven't tried it, but I think I am going to with this one. However, it does not help that every single thing I read about breastfeeding lets me know that it is very painful. One woman went as far as to say that it was walking around with a paper cut on your boob that is constantly being irritated and then sucked on producing liquid that makes it sting. Awesome. My friend Cherie says that once I clear the 3 week mark with it, I will be fine. Excuse me? 3 weeks? How about the 3rd time, or the third day? Does she not remember not sleeping more then maybe 2 hours a day for a month, and then to top it off you get to have your breasts tortured?!?! I don't know people. Specifically, I don't know you la leche leaguers, I might fail you big time. And don't even try it, don't even say it, 'oh you are setting yourself up for failure.' Just shut up. Every time I am in Target that aisle with the formula just says to me...'this will make your like one million times easier.' If it makes me a wimp, well then, I will take getting picked last in gym class. I am going to try it though, alright? I invested in books, Cherie gave me her pump to use. But calloused nipples? What in the world?!?? But I swear if it doesn't grant me some weight loss, I am so selfish sometimes.

I must though confess the greatest selfishness in all of this. During your hospital stay you have the option of taking the baby to the nursery through the night. Now if you are a formula feeder, they feed the baby every two hours through the night. You get where I am going with this right? Before I had Kendall a piece of advice was bestowed upon me, 'since you are going to be bottle feeding, send the baby to the nursery at night so that you can sleep, because once you are home, there is no nursery to send them to.' They of course bring the baby back to you at 6 am, before the shift change, but just the same, the drop off happens at 10 p.m. So with this knowledge, Andy and I dropped Kendall and Ethan off both nights we were there for their first sleepover parties. I am certain that the nurses were like, 'lazy mother,' in complete honesty, I could care less. If you breast feed, this option is still open to you, but since your boobs aren't velcroed on, SURPRISE!, the baby is delivered to you each time it shows that it is hungry. And then you actually have to ring the bell and actually tell someone that they can take the baby back to the nursery. I don't think I would have the balls to do this, and so guess what? A wretched breast feeding beast is formed. Hey, I told you it was a selfish confession, but having gotten home with Kendall and having 3 sleepless nights in a row right off he bat, I was thankful for the sleep I got in the hospital.

So you know, breastfeeding sounds like fun...

Right now I am in the end stages. I waddle worse then a duck. I am not sleeping at night, because when you get to this point you have to rotate sides to be comfortable thanks to the hip pain about every hour or so. I am out of breath when I simply just walk across a room. I seriously pant like a dog. When this child is growing I immediately feel it, and he wants to be fed. Last night I was up at 2 a.m. feeding it cocoa pebbles. Nutritious. And I get to hear every time I see someone, 'Wow you are bigger then the last time I saw you.' Just what every woman wants to hear. It's really uplifting. And the charlie horses, oh the charlie horses! They are worse after I work, obviously, because I am on my feet anywhere from 8-16 hours on a shift, yeah, that's right,now you all know where I will most likely go into labor. But anyway, the other night I seriously thought that someone was taking a power drill with the biggest bit attached, and going straight into my calf. I woke up screaming and crying, if I could have moved I would have torn the place up since that is what I do when I am in pain, I kick or throw things that are near me. That is why an epidural is pretty important. Otherwise Andy would have forceps flying towards his head in the delivery room. I have to be paralyzed. Andy of course, tried rubbing it, he actually leapt out of bed, I think he thought I was in labor, but just the same, it was bad, and they don't get any better until this child comes out.

And that is my piece. My venting.

Again, you can run Eve, but you can't hide. I am on to you.

Pictures are proven evidence that I am as big as a small house with room for 3, and giving birth to a super size.

Good Day Sunshine!

2010-03-17T10:54:00.014-04:00

After days of rain...rain that soaked Stanley so bad each time he went out to pee that I swore the wet dog smell would never leave him, the sun is here. I contemplated litter box training him...anyone ever had any success with that? I think had that happened Lily would have put on her rain poncho and slickers, packed up some Friskies, and been done with us.

But now the sun is out. We have runny noses, slight coughs, and pants that don't stay up on pregnant bellies, but we still made it outside to play in this weather, and plan on doing it again today. I love the exhaustion that comes over little kids in the first days they are able to play outside again at bedtime. It is a peaceful, deep sleep, and you know they are having the best dreams ever!

I of course, cannot let the first tee shirt wearing weather go by without some tunes about it. I was singing them all day long to the kids. They of course by the end of the day were, 'enough Mommy!!!' So now I have to share them with you. So open up the windows and let the 'hood hear how happy you are this wretched winter is over...and I swear if it rears its ugly head for one last hoorah I will refuse to take off the flip flops! Take that! I don't even have flip flops yet. This is a disgrace. I threw mine out from last season because I could actually feel the concrete through the sole, vowing that I would replace them when the sun came out. Well it is time! I need to get to Old Navy. Honey, take me to Old Navy I need my 2 for $5 flip flops today before the navy blue and brown ones run out and I look like a fool wearing the black ones with a brown shirt. I will do it though...I love my flip flops, don't test me. Just roll me right in the front door. I need black, brown, navy blue, and a pair for Kendall to make it an even 4, because you need to buy 2 to get the 2 for $5. They don't mess around. However, I am going past an Old Navy today on the way to and from my doctors appt. I think I deserve them since I will be put through the agony of getting on a scale. I'm just saying. Anyone need some?

I also took the time to take some pics of the kids in the warm weather because all I have is cold weather pics of them in the house as little decorations, and you know that just won't do, we have to be seasonal around here, right Cherie?

So the tunes...
to accompany the pics...
press play now, sing along, dance along, get out the bikes, oh and the band aids, and the sunscreen, I forgot that yesterday...poor cheeks.

1. 'I Can See Clearly Now, the Rain is Gone' -Johnny Nash
Ok, so seeing clearly is debatable since I am over 8 months pregnant, and nothing makes much sense anymore, but the rain being gone is probably going to make things a little easier.

2. 'Here comes the Sun' -Sheryl Crow
I sang this to E when he woke up yesterday morning. He isn't a big fan of morning serenades, but I am his mother, who can't sing to save my life, but dream I can, so he has a long road ahead of him.

3.'Lollipop' -Mika
This one you are going to one to turn up and call in the kids. We love to dance to this tune. Kendall loves to sing it. She was even singing it when I was snapping photos of her yesterday.

4. 'Walking on Sunshine' -Katrina and the Waves
This chick is really excited that some dude is knocking on her door when she thought he wouldn't. Good for her. I am just happy she sang about it, added that she was walking on sunshine, and added a beat that we could dance to, and correlate with good weather.

5.'It's a Sunshine Day' -The Brady Bunch
Anything the Brady Bunch sings is so annoying to me, and to have this song in my head was really annoying yesterday. I put on a short little diddy so you can feel my pain. What dorks.

6. 'Boogie Shoes' -KC & the Sunshine Band
Any band that has Sunshine in their name is fair game, and KC he has a good band. Yesterday I sang this because we have boogies all over this house right now, and if you can't have fun with that, well you will get grossed out and gag like Sue.

7.'T-Shirt Weather' -The Lucksmiths
This song makes you want to get on a beach cruiser and weave back and forth on the road with your sunglasses on. Ok, maybe not. But I love t-shirt weather. I think its grand that someone made a song about it. It makes no sense, other then the fact that they are happy it is finally warm out.

8. 'You are my Sunshine.' -Elizabeth Mitchell
This song is depressing when you really think about it? Why do we teach it to our children? I think of the movie 'Beaches,' when I hear it. Me and my friends used to watch it in Jr. High to make ourselves cry. We were dumb. Regardless, my kids are my sunshine...and they do make me happy when skies are gray, but I do hope that someday they get how much I love them.

9.'You are the Sunshine of My Life' -Stevie Wonder
What is a day without Stevie Wonder? I love his tunes. He mentioned the word sunshine and so of course I had to mention it. Oh and of course because Andy is the Sunshine of My Life...cheese, but I do like dancing in the kitchen to it with him while I sing off key.

Can you find the missing word in the pile of art before anyone else? If you do you win my first bunch of flowers blooming for your dining room table. Hint: It's the story of my life!

Have fun outside!

Pee-ers Progress

2010-03-09T12:46:00.007-05:00

So it turns out this potty trainer has outsmarted me a bit. I fully admit I do not have a penis, SURPRISE!, and I do not know how the urination process works for gentlemen. I am learning. By the time this baby is ready to be trained,I think I will have it down.

Day one we were 50/50. But I learned on this day that Ethan cannot have anything on down there. There can be no sensation of something covering the little wee wee. This reminds him of a diaper, apparently, and he just feels free to go. So Toy Story pack of undies, yeah we went through them in about 2 hours.

Also it turns out that there needs to be some tucking and direction involved. I also learned this the hard way. Standing in front of him coaching him on, yeah not so much. I think I went through 4 shirts on the first day. Apparently the force the urine produces is similar to a super soaker, who knew?

So with that day coming to a close, we have the sensation issue nipped in the bud, as well the tuck and point down. Ethan will go bottomless for a bit, and I will stay out of the way once I am certain he has gotten it all squared away.

Day 2 we head to Walmart in search of a potty with some sort of deflector. Because apparently little boys training have no idea when they are done and they will say they are done and open to release the tuck, soaking anything in the way. We come home with a Lightening McQueen cushioned potty chair that sits on the big potty with a deflector. This is solving two problems because now he will not have the red rings on this rear end from sitting on a plastic chair, and he will also not be concerned about falling into the bigger toilet and can focus on the task at hand.

On this day we are doing well. But then I start to think that this once Super Pooper, with an average of 3 times a day, has not relieved himself in two. Problem. So during nap, we strap on the diaper, because I am not about to clean sheets, air out mattresses, so on and so forth. I am not ready for that stage yet. When he wakes up from nap I give him some privacy, watch him sneak into his room to find a dark corner. I ask him if he has to go poopy and that we could try the potty and get a big prize, he turns down the offer. But he pooped. He was upset about it, but I am certain his belly felt better. When it comes to the beginning stages of potty training, I am all about getting the pee under control first. Everyone has their own style. But I am not about to use a suppository, enema, prune juice, stool softener, etc... because the child has not gone in a week. This experience would horrify the child and I have set myself back about a year in the toileting process. Pooping is apparently a control issue with my children, and on day 2 of training, they aren't going to give it up to me. 'You can make me pee lady, and I will take the peanut butter cup, but if you think I am dropping the deuce for you this easily, you have got another thing coming to you.'

Day 3. I am at work all day. Andy promptly puts on the undies. He learned the sensation lesson real quick. I tell Andy he is going to have to poop and it is going to be a project, give him his space, an opportunity to drop his kids of at the pool. 10 minutes later, phone call, 'he pooped in his pants, and I am mad.' Now I do not have the patience of a saint. But when it comes to potty training, I sympathize for some reason. I do not remember myself being potty trained, but perhaps my subconscious does, and it must have taken me some time. So I am all about going up the potty training mountain with an easy does it mentality. You push, we fall, and we have to start all over again. Andy is the, 'now we decided we are going to use the potty, so use it,' type of person. Perhaps that is why I am a push over and he is not. But you know, we give and take here. I will get it, some day. But probably not with potty training. But as the day went on, there was progress.

I also worked Sunday evening, and the boys must have spent some time together going over the basics. Like a little class, 'Peeing with a Penis 101.' For when we went to attempt the potty that morning, Ethan and I, he promptly corrected me. 'Mommy don't touch, I point it down with my fingers like Daddy does, see!?!?' When he was done, he then says to me, 'and then I shake it.' This was similar to a hose that was just on being shook, but I got the idea. This was man's work, I just watch in the wings in case I am needed, and hand over the candy.

We talked a bit yesterday about pooping and how Kendall got a big prize for going poopy on the potty lots of times. Kendall was involved in the pep talk, 'yeah E, I picked out the Mulan movie, Molly and Brynnie got me the Mulan doll, we got lots of candy.' I said 'yes, now see you can pick out a big prize for your box too. ' I asked him what he would want, he said, 'me not sure.' Kendall not missing a beat says, 'well E, how about like RC, or a movie, or something, or like a trip to Disney World.' Whoa, hold your horses sister. We are talking pooping on the potty, not scoring a 1600 on the SATS at age 3. I quickly tell her that she needs to stick with the RC, and movie suggestions.

Today Ethan has gone pee on the potty at least 15 times. No joke. This kid now has some control over his bladder and knows that if he doesn't release all of it each time, he will need to go again in 5 minutes, thus getting another trip to the candy jar. Tomorrow the undies are going on, with the, 'you keep these dry, each time you go to the potty you get a piece of candy,' speech. We need to up the ante a bit.

Now pooping. We work at it. We try to explain to push like you need to fart. Yes, this is graphic, yes, I did just say that, I also did say, 'Peeing with a Penis 101.' So you will just need to move on.

There has been evidence he is trying. These are from the iphone last night, when I, at work again, was not around. Andy was tutoring him through the class, 'The Basics of Pooping of the Potty 101.' He told him to push like he had to fart, as previously mentioned by the professor, there was no pooping taking place, but clear effort was presented by the student. The concentration was there, obviously, but the student is still holding back. So right now in this class he is holding at a B-. It was going to be a C+, but the biting of the lip brought him up 2 points.

'But pleasures are like poppies spread: You seize the flower,--its bloom is shed.'

~John Bunyan, Pilgrim's Progress pt. II

Here we go again!

2010-03-03T09:50:00.006-05:00

So it seems we must get a little tough, or a little more hefty with our bribes. I'll admit it.

My dear son. He has a problem.

To my husband it's quite serious. Especially with an impending birth on the horizon. The tug on his wallet is pretty strong. Because lets face it, kids aren't cheap. I mean their expenses effect things you wouldn't necessarily even think about when you plan on having them. Like I don't know, a new DVD player, since someone decided to jam a few into the player at one time because he thought that would be fun to watch a few movies. Also, your water bill. My children like to brush their teeth with the water running, just like we do, and I will be honest, sometimes when they are doing this, I like to throw on some wash, or make some beds, or both, and then I realize, whoops, it's been awhile in there with the teeth brushing and water running. 'Honey, I couldn't imagine why the cost keeps going up, what can I say, water is expensive I guess!?!?!'

So back to Ethan's problem. He hates being potty trained. Andy's problem, he does not want to buy both sons diapers. If you asked Ethan he would say, 'It's ok, I go in my diaper.' He is a typical male when it comes to this since I am certain that when a great game is on tv, and it is so tight, if you were to get up you would miss a life changing play, but you have to pee so bad it hurts, when presented with the option of a diaper, many men would say, 'ok.' They of course would never admit to this as grown men, but that is where the toddler boy and their uncensored honesty comes in. When it comes down to leaving a great activity like trains to go potty or go in your diaper, well they are going to say, 'It's ok, I go in my diaper.'

With Kendall it was cool to go on the potty, something different to do, and if you were going to give her prizes for it, well then she would pee all day long. Pooping was the issue, definitely, until we figured her game out. With Ethan, he could frankly care less if it is cool, the big boy thing to do, if all his friends are doing it, or if you dangled candy in front of his face. I sit him on the little potty sometimes for so long he has a red ring encircling his cheeks and upper legs, and he didn't go. When I put the diaper on for a nap or a movie, it is wet within 10 seconds. This is laziness and stubbornness. 'I told you lady that I want to go in my diaper, I don't know why you don't listen!!'

Andy tends to lean towards discipline for not accomplishing this task that is necessary for life. I am the briber, and he has conceded for the time being. Since Ethan has never gone on the potty, not once, how can I truly know for sure he gets this concept? It's puzzling, and can keep you up at night. I know he knows what the potty is for, I am not that dumb, but I know for certain that he doesn't have that, 'I have to go pee, I need to find a toilet,' idea down. To him, it is a nice concept, and makes a lot of sense, but he doesn't have the time to be bothered with it. And this is where I come into play. He is not Kendall. He is not going to come up to me and say, 'Mommy I want to go pee pee on the potty today,' and I am going to slap on a pair of underwear, never look back, and call it potty training. With Ethan, he embodies every sense of the word, 'train,' and that word implies, work, and guess who gets to do it with him.? That's right, his 8 month pregnant Mother. Sounds challenging? Like a lot of fun? Absolutely not.

As you have read with Kendall, I wrapped a large empty diaper box and put it on top of the fridge because she had some issues with poo. I enticed her even more by wrapping this giant thing, which she thought was stuffed with everything a girl could dream of, with princess paper. I posted a chart, told her you poop 5 times you get everything that is in this box, and the rest is body functioning history.

With Ethan, I could wrap a box the size of the Taj Mahal and he could care less. So we have decided to purchase a coveted item, not wrap it, and sit it on top of the fridge to taunt him all day long, and to make mention of it whenever it is in our line of sight. Andy wanted to also let Kendall play with this item since she goes on the potty. I think that is just torture. This may be my italian mother protection over my boy, but I think this is his to earn, key word being, his. So again, Andy I am certain, humoring me, has conceded. Lord thank you for giving me a man who will concede at times I need him to, so he can later laugh at me.

Here is the bigger question...where is my big wrapped box filled with treasures as an incentive to potty train the untrainable beast?

So today is has started, well sort of started. He knows tonight Daddy is taking him to the store tonight to get his coveted item for being potty trained. When he gets home he will have a chart on the cabinet in the same place his sister did. If he fills those boxes, I think there will be seven of them, he gets the prize. I am toying with the idea of the boxes to be checked off being 7 days, not just seven times.The fun part will be getting the toy home and taking it out of the bag, and putting it on the fridge. This kid is going to flip a lid and throw the biggest tsunami of tantrums you have ever witnessed. Because I don't think he really gets it. I think I am going to get it on film for you.

He is already pissed at me because I won't give him a starburst until he goes on the potty. He threw a tantrum, which I promptly ignored and let him have, since it is tough to lose privileges to a favorite candy. I typically give them to him when he helps me clean or something, not today pal. This is a new day. We are going to have to pick up something else for being a big helper, like gum or something. The kid loves gum. At least five times a week there is a pink wad in his diaper for me. Thus again proving gum does not stay in your stomach for 7 years, he is only 2, and poops it out on the regular.

All this bribing you say? Hey, this is my house, I don't get on you for not sanitizing your door knobs once a week, get off my back.

But what I love about potty training a boy, since there is actually something, is little boy underwear. Why are they so cute in them? I am not a fan of the tighty whities on grown men, and if Andy wore them, I would just bust out laughing and take a picture so I could laugh all day. I don't know why I think they are funny, some men wear them, prefer them, and that's ok, but I still think they are pretty funny looking. Why do they cut so low on the leg? Must have something to do with chaffing prevention, I don't know. But who am I? Wear any kind of undies you want. Ethan prefers Toy Story undies, and he just looked so cute and proud.

He has been on the toilet every 15 minutes this morning, with questions in between. I had just finished cleaning the breakfast dishes and when I turn around Ethan is there, 'Mommy, I can have a Starburst, I pee peed.' There is a puddle on the floor to prove it and Woody, the movie character, is all wet.

We are off to a smashing start.

There better be a box with my name on it, there just better be.

33!

2010-03-02T10:09:00.002-05:00

Today our old man turns 33! To commemorate this event the kids wanted to sing a little diddy. Not sure what all the silliness was about, but they were satisfied with the end result. Nothing like early morning video shots...they look so ~~puffy~~, pretty!

Happy Birthday Daddy Donut!

Fat Guy in a Little Coat

2010-02-26T10:27:00.013-05:00

Being pregnant is not fun during snow storms. I mean if you don't like snow storms, then it never would be fun, but then maybe you should live somewhere where the chance of snow is not likely at all, like Mississippi. You thought I was going to say Florida, didn't you?

If you don't live in the Northeast, then let me just tell you, we have had a lot of snow this winter. Like we live in Wyoming or something. We are not talking flurries everyday, in fact it doesn't snow everyday, but when it does, it is like the sky just opened up and a dump truck just decided, hey this is where we will put it all. SPLAT! And we have like 75 inches of snow on the ground until June.

This of course is the worst part, the clean up. Where do you put it all when it doesn't melt? We need to ship it to Mississippi so those kids can go sledding or something.

So back to being pregnant...in the snow.
During one of the storms, I can't remember which one, my husband turns to me and says, 'you are no fun, why don't you put on the snow stuff I got you and come outside and play?'

Rrrrrrright.

If he didn't notice, which is nice if he really didn't, my girth is about 20 times the size it was 7 months ago. I think I would look like the biggest fool with my pants hanging wide open, zipper down, jacket flying open in the wind. What comes to mind when I picture this scenario in my head is Chris Farley in, 'Tommy Boy,' where is sings, 'Fat Guy in a little coat...'

And then I would have ripped my jacket, and no one would have been happy.

So my options are pretty limited. I can't go skiing. I am always pregnant in the winter, and so I have not been skiing in years. I am hoping it is like they say, and it is just like riding a bike, or a horse, you just get on and go, like you never stopped. But since I was wobbly on both attempts to complete these activities after some time off, I am certain I am going to break a leg.

I cannot go sledding. I think people might call child protective services if I attempted this. There is something completely wrong about a pregnant woman sledding. Beyond the risks, I think it would look pretty ridiculous, and in all honesty, I don't think I would be able to stand up without first rolling around on the ground like some beached whale, attempting to gain some leverage.

I cannot ice skate. Well, I can't ice skate at all to begin with. A funny thing happens when I go to put on ice skates, as I am lacing them up, dementia comes over me, and I think that I can ice skate. I then stand up and start wobbling on my ankles like I am on some tight rope or something. You would think that there would be more support involved in those stupid things, like a brace or something inside the skate. How does those girls do it? They make it look so easy. Perhaps that is why I think I can skate when I am strapping them on, how hard can it be, I couldn't do it last time, but maybe I can this time. Every time I am wrong and never make it out the door with them on...since about age 20.

The good thing is is that I cannot shovel, well I am sure I can shovel, but it's not really recommended that I shovel, and since it is not very fun to shovel, there is no way you will see me out there shoveling. However, when overdue with Kendall I decided that I was going to shovel, and you better believe I was out there hauling snow. No baby came. What a waste of time.

The worst part about being 8 months pregnant and it snowing is the getting from here to there in this deep snow. I actually think that Andy needs to get me a little sleigh that I sit upon and then he pull me and all my things to the van and back. So what if I weigh 535 pounds? And so what if it is 50 feet? I will tell you I am ready to pass out after going up the two flights of stairs in my house, getting from the door to the van in 3 feet of snow makes me just want to fall over and give up, I am thinking of purchasing a white flag and painting in bright red layers, 'HELP ME!', on it and just carry it with me whenever I am outside because I am bound to pass out one of these times.

I feel as though this winter I may have instilled a dislike of snow in my children since I am not all gung ho, lets go build a snow man and stay outside until we can't feel the tip of our nose anymore all kinds of excited to get on out there. I mean they go out in it, but it isn't that fantastical scene where they scream and run all over the house because it is snowing and they can hardly wait to get out there. In all honesty, I line all the stuff up, after I have searched all over the house for the missing glove, line up the children and dress them, and then when it is done, 45 minutes later we are all a grumpy mess of sweatiness. I have my work cut out for me next year, they must love snow, what child doesn't?

My children, enjoying the snow with their friends, see I don't keep them cooped up.

Same with dear Stanley.

He loathes the snow. He looks out there when he really has to use the facilities, turns back and looks at me like I have lost my mind, and is then instantly shuddering in fear because he knows he can't hold it anymore. It must be rough having to stick your rump in something freezing just to take a dump. He looks out the window when it is coming down and it is written all over his face...'I am not going out there one more time until there is something green for me to lift a leg to.'

When I finally get him out there, I feel just terrible. Look, you try to pick up a scent in that mess.

My first year of college, I went to a wilderness college. I am sure if you didn't already know this you are laughing, saying, 'yeah, and I don't believe that for five seconds.' But I really did, great year, I am sure I will go on more about that later. But more importantly, one of our assignments was that we were to go winter camping in the snow, and sleep in igloos that we made. I know. I hated every second of it, and compare it to the same sort of torture as putting thin pieces of wood under a toe nail. Really it was that bad. But I now sympathize with my dog, and having to have your fanny right there; hovering over or possibly on the snow in the freezing weather. It's cold. Real cold.

But he does his business fast, and the picture you are left of is similar to all of us at this point with the snow...

You just see our tail end as we hurry back inside.

Thus producing cabin fever which has us dressing like it is 80 degrees and we are heading to Mardi Gras.

Earning my Cookie Badge

2010-02-18T10:26:00.006-05:00

So it's Girl Scout Cookie time, well it must be because although I don't have a Daisy, Brownie, Junior, Cadette, Ambassador, or any full fledged Girl Scout amongst my cherubs, I do have 2 boxes of cookies, compliments of my sister for my kids for Valentine's Day.

And let me tell you that these over priced, tiny boxes of cookies are just wonderful. Presently we have the Peanut Butter Patties, which also are known as Tag a longs, and the Thin Mints. Thin Mints are like a staple aren't they when it comes to Girl Scout Cookie Flavors? Everyone has their favorite that they purchase and then they throw in a box of Thin Mints just because.

Were you a Girl Scout? I was, well I think I was for like 3 or 4 years, and then it wasn't cool anymore. Because things are awesomely cool and not cool when you were growing up, and then you come to find out later that those things that weren't so cool pay for college, get you a good job, etc. I was a Brownie first and remember crossing that little wooden bridge into Girl Scout Land, and that was about it for me. Now when I was a Brownie I specifically remember Girl Scout Cookie time. I also remember my best friend and I scrambling when it was about 2 weeks before the badge ceremonies to make up ways to get our badges like our rank in the eternal Girl Scout land depended on it.

Oh, but aren't the uniforms just hideous? I mean seriously, when you put on that ugly brown or green thing it might as well earned you the,'I know I am dressed like a Loser,' badge. Poor things. I can remember watching,'Troop Beverly Hills,' and thinking; 'Why can't I have a uniform like theirs? Why can't we do fun Girl Scout activities like they do, Why can't Shelly Long be one of my Troop Moms?' Maybe if I lived in Beverly Hills I would have been a Girl Scout longer, who knows.

Let's face it, these Girl Scouts, really have an edge over the Boy Scouts when it comes to the selling of food products. I mean they may be able to tie a mean knot, get you out of the wilderness alive, and 'Be Prepared,' but they sell Popcorn. What does that have on Girl Scout Cookies, really?

One year my mom was 'Cookie Mom.' This granted her the power over all cookies for our troop. Boxes of cookies were stored in my garage, this is a chubby prepubescent girls dream. Ok, so it was baby fat, no really actually it wasn't, but whatever.

My favorites are Carmel DeLites, or Samoas. Why do they keep changing the names? This is not a very effective marketing strategy, but I guess the Girls Scouts of America Association didn't ask for my opinion. Should have. Because had they asked my opinion on the cookies in general, I would have said, keep the names, and put more in a box. Really,there is like 5 in a box, with the exception of Shortbreads and Thin Mint, they really pack those suckers in and you get your money's worth. And on the subject of unacceptable name changing of Girl Scout Cookies, Shortbreads are also called Trefoils. What in the world is that and how in the world do you say that? You see what I am saying? And in reference to the amount in the box, when you sit down with your Carmel Samoas DeLites and battle with your inner fatty whether to just finish the box or not, you begin to curse the Girl Scouts, 'PUT MORE IN THE BOX, DARN YOU, YOU GREEN DRESS WEARING TROLLS!' It's that serious.

What is the price of Girl Scout cookies this year anyway? I think it is about 4 bucks a box. If a buy a case of Samoan DeLites do I get a discount? I am not knocking the Girl Scouts here entirely, in fact I think it's a wonderful activity for today's youth. I mean where else can you learn and earn badges for hundreds of wholesome activities, like 'Home Improvements' and 'From Stress to Success'? Mind you none of them involve the, 'Wearing your Uggs properly,' badge or the 'Your Skinny Jeans and You,' badge. It's a shame that being a Girl Scout isn't cool, upon further research, they really do attempt to produce wholesome, self-sufficient, well rounded women, but if they could just give me like 5 more cookies in a box, that would be great.

The best part about being a Girl Scout is that no matter when or where, you can always remember the pledge, its unreal, get your three fingers in position and recite after me;

'On my honor, I will try to serve God and my country, to help people at all times, and to live by the Girl Scout Law.'

Buy a box today.

And now she is 4...

2010-02-17T10:29:00.005-05:00

Over this past weekend my little girl turned 4. 4!! That was enough to make me want to run to a stack of her baby photos and weep about how she has grown too fast. I mean in reality, like her mother suffered through, she doesn't even have all of her hair yet, and she still has a little fence on her bed so that she doesn't fall on the floor, but this is going to be her last year with me at home. No we don't kick them out 5, but she certainly won't be home with me all day, this is just the start of the process of leaving the nest, and I can't bear it.She is going to be going to preschool in the fall, she is going to start reading her own stories, she is then going to be five, and you know what five means...kindergarten. That is not humanly possible. That happened way too quickly. She is going to learn how to write her name soon, and I am going to cry my eyes out.

A few months ago we began discussing her coming birthday. Kendall LOVES her friends and she knows that at birthday time she can bring them all together to one spot. The shear prospect of this is enough to send her into fits of excitement and anticipation. I asked her what she wanted to do for her birthday party and she said a sleepover. Hmm... Her friend Juliana had just had one in the fall when she turned 5. I tried to pull this excuse with her, 'Well Kendall, Jules was turning 5, you are turning 4.' To which I got, 'So?' Good point. So I go to run this by her Daddy, because certainly I can pin the fact that she can't have a sleepover on him. He just says, 'ok.' Thanks pal.

Equipped with the fact that we are going to have a sleepover, when it comes time to plan the party, I tell her that we are only going to invite her closest friends. She starts rattling off this list with names of little girls I don't even know. We begin to narrow it down, and with her brother in the mix, we have a list of 8. Well 9, if you include her friend Sarah, but she could not come due to the devastating fact that she is allergic to everything. No, seriously, Kendall has already said that she will sit with Sarah at special tables at school. That's friendship people.

So leading up to the party, like every child, Kendall asks daily, 'Is today my party? How many sleeps until my party?' Isn't this just so much fun? I couldn't get her to function to complete any tasks on the days leading up to the party, unless it was, 'Today is the day,' it was of no importance to her.

So we had the party and it was, 'Little Girl Fest 2010.' We played Barbies, we whined, we dressed up, we watched princess movies, we ate candy and got really hyper, we threatened to never be each other's friends again, we cried when it was time to leave. It was a success.
Stanley enjoying the movie, 'Ella Enchanted,' with his special buddy for the night, Gabby.

And personally, to those that think it may be too young to have sleepover. I will tell you this; way easier then when they are teenagers. And here is why: At 11:30 p.m., I told these lovely ladies that it was time to get into their sleeping bags and go to sleep, we shut off the lights, and after a brief discussion between two of them about turkey bacon, (don't ask me), they were asleep. Another convenient thing was that I did not have to ship off her brother. When Kendall is 15, Ethan 14, there is either going to have to be the shipping of one to the grandparents for the evening, or he or she will have to wear those electric shocking dog collars that don't permit them out of their room. This being the only downfall of having a boy and a girl so close, the teenage years. So being young and getting in the birthday sleepover parties now, is something I favor.

Kendall had a fabulous 4th birthday, with a trip to the little girl spa with her aunt on friday afternoon, a sleepover that night, a nice birthday nap, dinner with Mom Mom and Pop, which was her favorite; tuna fish sandwiches, and then a family party that night.

Growing up way too fast.

My appointment with Snow White's 8th Dwarf

2010-02-04T15:30:00.004-05:00

I sit here in my third trimester looking as though I could just about birth a 15 pound baby at any moment. I am officially uncomfortable.

I get that I am to eat so that this monster inside of me can thrive, but after I consume anything I literally feel as though my stomach is just going to bust open at the seams and explode all over the place. It's a bit of a graphic scene in my head, but don't worry, the baby is fine.

Today I went to the doctor. Saw the micro machine man. No really this doctor moves at a wickedly fast pace all of the time. And talks at warp speed. He delivered Ethan and in the throes of labor pain I asked him if he ever slowed down, and if he drove his wife crazy. He of course is efficient, I mean Ethan's birth was flawless, but just the same, every time I have an appointment with him it is like I have entered a cyclone and spit out in the reception area when it is all over. He's lucky I like him, and that he also looks like one of the seven dwarfs, otherwise we may have some issues to work through. An ob/gyn who talks a mile a minute and just may be the 8th dwarf, I am ok with this? Once again I will tell you that when you are in labor, you don't care who is on the receiving end. Preferably someone who can catch is the only requirement.

My appointment goes something like this:
I calmly get my blood pressure and weight taken, turn in my pee, and then I am led to the examine room by the nurse.

I literally step up on the little step to have a seat and he is in the room. Talking at least 89 miles an hour:
'O.k., everything o.k., any questions, concerns, what's going on, you feeling alright?'(At the same time, he is scanning the chart), 'Alright, looks good, had the 3 hour glucose, ugh, I hear that is as boring as watching paint dry, but you passed, so any thing else going on that I should know about? This is the third right, wow, you must be tired, oh look, who is this? Kendall, did I deliver Kendall? No, too bad, that's o.k.,the other doctors here are o.k., are you o.k.? And then he takes his first breath.

'Let's see, you are taking your folic acid, let me get a listen, lean back, whoa this sucker moves around a lot, huh? Your weight and blood pressure look good finally, that is good? You have any questions? April 25th is the due date? Wow, this one is going to be a big one, definitely over 9 pounds I am thinking. You o.k.? Let me measure the belly, yup definitely over 9 pounds is my guess. You think you will go early, no you didn't with your others, well that's o.k., you give me a call on the 26th alright?

Mind you, I have not said a thing other than, 'uh huh,'still.

'O.k., there is the heartbeat, you are in your third trimester so I should see you in 2 weeks. Yup, you will be 31 weeks then. Time flies when you are having fun. O.k., you o.k., have any questions for me? Any concerns?'

ME: 'I don't think so.'

'O.k., then you behave yourself and stay out of trouble and we will see you in 2 weeks.'

I look down at my belly and am reassured that there will be no getting into trouble since I move about as fast as a slug and am already knocked up.

As Kendall and I are standing in the reception area making my next appointments, he whizzes by, 'alright Diane, babies to deliver, see you tomorrow,' and he is out before the receptionist can even answer him.

God bless those women writhing in pain at that moment waiting for one of the doctors from the practice to arrive and put them out of their misery and extract a child. They are about to experience birth with the 8th dwarf, Speedy, before they can even bat an eyelash.

I will not be seeing him in 2 weeks mind you. I will see another doctor in the practice whose name Andy thinks is just hysterical in a 14 year old puberty stricken boy sort of way. I can't say the name on here, wish I could, but ask next time I see you ask me, or ask me on facebook, I suppose it is a bit of an unfortunate last name.

So dwarfs and weird names? I am ok with this? Well I have 2 children that lead me to have faith in them. Listen, they give me the o.k. for the epidural a little early, they listen to me whine about wanting to me induced when I am a week overdue, and they present beautiful and healthy children to me, what's not to like?

So unless there is an abdominal explosion here, I will have at the very least 11 weeks left. This is when I start to panic and look around the house, the baseboards that need wiping down, the baby stuff to gather. I don't even have diaper rash cream, and I want a new boppy, and I need to find a sling I like, and I really want two body pillows so I can sleep at night comfortably. Please, someone.

Someone tell my husband to pick two of these up for me, with pillowcases at Target, PRONTO! All I want is for my hips to have a break. Is that too much to ask?

This child also needs a coming home outfit. And am I really going to breast feed and pump? Cherie needs to get over her and provide me with a very candid tutorial on working this pump, which right now looks like a torturing device. I need to make room in the freezer for frozen breast milk. Yummy. Do I really want to feel like a cow? And I need to prepare meals, and I need new binkies. Why is it that with Ethan it all came together? Oh that's right because I had a baby already, it's been three years. A lifetime, well for maybe a bird, but still. Where is my swaddling blankets? And where is that thing that sucks boogers out of noses? And this kid needs socks, because Lord knows who ate the others, there are no matches.

See, see...this is why you stop at one. This is why in India pregnant women live with their mothers until birth. It's insanity.

The Goose Egg

2010-01-20T09:32:00.005-05:00

They say that pregnancy can make you clumsy. Again with the 'they,' and again I will ask,who are, 'they?' I suppose I am part of 'they,'because I have been pretty clumsy while pregnant. Am I clumsy when I am not pregnant? I don't think I really pay attention to that. I suppose because when you are clumsy when you are pregnant you are hyper aware of it so as to not crack the egg that sticks out in front of you. How then, I suppose, can you not be clumsy when you have this thing sticking out in front of you throwing off your balance?

When I was pregnant with Kendall, in about my 8 month, yeah real good month to fall, right, it was a cold and blustery day, and I was late for work. Without thinking for one second that there could perhaps be some ice on my front step, I charged out the front door, and after some theatrics which included some arm flailing, legs moving a mile a minute under me, and some twisting motions in an attempt to keep myself upright, I landed flat on my bottom on the bottom step. I of course sat there and cried and waited for my water to break like a pathetic loser, and nothing happened except for a really bruised backside. Kendall was still 2 weeks late.

Now you are thinking there is nothing clumsy about falling on ice, it happens all the time, but I will say this, that if did not have 20 pounds sticking out in front of me, with no junk in my trunk to even things out a bit, I would have been able to catch myself. Or would have flung myself forward onto the grass, but those that have been pregnant know, you do not by any means of the imagination let yourself fall forwards while pregnant. Things move in slow motion when you are falling while pregnant, if you didn't already know. It's as if you have time to think some logistics, 'well I am going to fall, and so if I move this way just slightly I will break my hand, but save the belly.' You are able to contort your body in all these crazy ways, if you are lucky, so that the belly is not smushed.

While pregnant with Ethan, I fell down the stairs. Oh no, it gets better, while carrying Kendall, and most likely a ton of other things because I am an obsessed multitasker like that. I have no idea what contributed to the fall, with the exception of carrying a million things and a baby, no that isn't enough. But before I knew it my legs came flipping forward from under me. In the again, slow motion movements, I knew I had to readjust Kendall so that I didn't land on her legs and cripple her for life from my weight, and to brace her and the belly for the fall. BAM! On the step. I swear my butt bone is going to break with one more of these impacts.

So onto the clumsy mishap of this pregnancy, which has topped all the others. So it was trash day. Imagine that, the trash can still sitting there, not by the curb, I might add. My husband conveniently cannot remember what day is trash day to save his life. It's like selective memory, and in just the last week they changed the collection days, so now it has only gotten worse. I am 100% certain many of you ladies can relate. There are many times that the trash is just about ready to get up and walk itself all the way to the dump before it is set on the curb. And I don't want to get into why I just don't do it. There are times I do, like this time I will talk about, but this is a man's job. And I don't care what anyone else has to say about it, there are certain things in a household that are strictly to be a man's job if there is one cohabitating with you, and taking out the trash is one of them, along with shoveling snow, and a few others.

So feeling annoyed about the trash situation I had going on that day, I decided to take it out. I had people coming over that night and smelly trash really is not make for a fine welcoming committee. But that wasn't where the problem was. The trash and the recycling were successfully put out on the curb that day, oh and again, by me, the pregnant one. You know, the one giving and sustaining life to another human being. The Merry Maids should be here daily. But then you think of the women in the fields who would just pop a baby out and keep on going, and then even just taking out the trash becomes a little prima donnish by comparison.

It was bringing the items back in that created the issue. I am always one moving with a million things on my mind. Going on to the next task with one half of my body while the other is completing the last one. This can become very hazardous, and has. So instead of using the steps, so wonderfully provided by our contractors to make life easier, I decide to grab onto one of the posts that holds up the porch that has the open space next to it. Because that was a 2 foot short cut? Seriously, because it was a two foot short cut which bypassed the chair that is sitting on the porch. So I have the recycle bin in one hand, grab onto the post with the other, pull up to plant my foot, and miss landing on the porch by a good 3 inches. This throws me off balance a little bit, and as my body wants to fall forward, directly into the concrete porch, with a direct landing on my belly, I pull forward hard and up. SMACK! That's right, face slamming into post. Awesome feeling. My immediate reaction is, 'I have lost teeth. I have lost teeth, I will not be able to get surgery because the baby can't have the medication used, and I will go into the delivery room a toothless fat person, the nurses are going to make fun of me!' I am not lying, this truly is my thought process. My second thought, also completely rational, 'I am going to kill Andy, if he had just taken out the trash this morning, this never would have happened.' Disregarding the fact that I was bringing in the empty trash receptacles that have nothing to do with taking the trash out in the morning when you really think about it. But that was besides the point, it's his man job!

So I walk inside, head spinning, lip swelling, forehead throbbing. I call Andy to let him know what happened and that if I am unresponsive on the floor when he gets home, he will know to always take the trash out for his future wives. He promptly tells me that he will hold ice on it when he gets home. I am will not even go into girls, not even for a minute.

I then decide to inspect the damage in the mirror. This is the first time I check the teeth since I am having major anxiety attacks surrounding the entire possibility of losing teeth. So I stick my tongue to where they are to be and feel resistance. Hallelujah. I then start moving them all around with my fingers to check and see if they are loose in any way. Nope. But my lip is all puffed out, and I have some cuts on the gum. Not to worry though because Andy is going to put ice on it when he gets home from work.

I move further up the face, nose will not require plastic surgery, good, good, and then there it is a goose egg sitting right there in the middle of the forehead. And then having the trash pile greeting my guests for that evening became a whole lot better of an option then this mountain growing on my forehead.

Once bruised and out in public the next day at BJ's, my neighbor, Danielle, thought that perhaps it was Ash Wednesday, I reminded her it was Friday. Her husband, later that evening, just thought I had a really good priest who got his hands on some really good ashes that didn't wash off as fast as the others. And ever since then people have asked, 'Is that a bruise and bump on your forehead?' And I get to retell the stupid story over and over again.

There are a few things I have learned in regards to this goose egg.

1. Is that they really do hurt, mine still really hurts when touched, or when I stick my head directly under the shower's flow.
2. When my children get another one of these on their heads I will not expect them to get over it in 10 minutes, more like 10 hours, or maybe even 10 days.
3. That a man's job is a man's job, let it be.

2009...wait...wait...2010

2010-01-05T15:10:00.011-05:00

Happy New Year. Welcome to 2010. I still am dating everything '09, which is really great when you work in the medical field. Usually I transition just fine into a new year writing the dates and I get all proud of myself, I am a loser like that, but apparently my subconscious does not like the '10. I keep thinking of this baby and when he is old and gray,and it is the year 2093 people stating in disbelief...'You were born in 2010!?!?!' I don't know why 2006 and 2007 don't hit me like that,and why I don't feel bad for Kendall and Ethan in the year 2093, but I don't. It's this new decade, at the end of it I will be in my 40's, and driving a different minivan, and that people, is unfathomable.

To commemorate this turn of the decade, which some people for some reason like to make a stink about, that it hasn't been a decade, I don't know, they are stupid, it was 10 years, to me, that is a decade. Phew, this baby is kicking away right now, my fingers just kind of uncontrollably moved when it jolted my body. This one is going to be a porker. I am going to go ahead and say, this one is easily going to clear 9 pounds. I am going to talk to my doctor on Thursday about scheduled c-sections. And my argument will be, Britney Spears and all those famous people get to have them, why can't I? Do I need to schedule a press tour, because I can write a book or something. No in reality, he will look at me like I have lost my mind, offer me some medication, and tell me that he will see me and my vagina sometime at the end of April.

Side Tracked, back on... I decided to list my Top Ten Mommy Accomplishments of 2009, since after all, I am a Mom, and well, we are pretty awesome.

1. How could I not start with this one, Getting Kendall to poop on the potty, and not in my neighbor, Sue's, immaculate basement. What a feat, I thought we were both going to die...Sue almost did.

2. Having the tubes stay in Ethan's ears. I know in reality, this has nothing to do with me, however, what me and this kids ears have been through since his birth deserves some recognition. I was always on edge about his stinkin' ears. Screams in the middle of the night would wake me and have me buying bulk baby ibuprofen, regression in his speech would send me in a panic. But it looks as though those second set of tubes stuck. Way to go CHOP.

3. Taking over the entire basement as a playroom. What started as a man cave, with an itty, bitty corner for Kendall's toys, has now evolved into a full fledged playroom. So the big tv with the sound system is there. Nemo sounds pretty good on it. But the poker table is gone. The fridge is still down there, but it is now home to juice boxes and plastic food items. I left his Eagles football things on the wall because I don't have frames for the kids artwork that is going to go up in their place yet. But you know, if you move slowly and slyly, complete domination can be achieved.

4. The Wooden Spoon. Enough said.

5. Getting, or should I say, inheriting, a dog. I mean every family should have one. Sure he sheds. But when you get back from being gone for 15 minutes and he greets all of us like we were gone for months, you'll take never being able to pull of black again. They love Stanley. Stanley tolerates us, even if when he goes out to play in the snow, he too, has to bundle up...look how happy he is!! He adores us, it's so evident.

6. Teaching Ethan how to pedal a bike. It was so sad and funny at the same time to watch him with his little tricycle and having to push it with his legs because he couldn't figure out pedals. Kendall took to bike riding like she was Lance Armstrong and pedaled right out of the womb. Surely all kids just learn this easily, right? Wrong. Then there was my sweet Ethan, my soon to be middle child, who fits the description to a tee. However, with a little determination, some tantrums, and a little self pity, because all the other kids went, 'too fast for me,' oh and the push handle, this kid is ready for a bike with training wheels for his third birthday.

7. Getting rid of cable and living to tell about it. So taking a gander at the budget and seeing that HUGE cable bill every month was killer. So were we up for the challenge? I decided to tell Andy to get rid of it. We nixed. We joined many of our friends and got rid of the cable, goodbye access to children's shows whenever they are driving you up a wall. And let me tell you. I was a huge, huge t.v. watcher. You know I love Oprah. You know I am a judge on American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance. How am I surviving? Actually how is Andy surviving without ESPN? Well all I have to say for him is iPhone. Without it and its glorious apps, this man would have never survived. Me? Well I read more then I did before. The kids? Well they are now enjoying, 'Movie Nights,' where we all snuggle up and eat popcorn and watch movies together. And during the day, they watch some shows on dvd. But let me tell you, this whole thing has put my creativity to the test. Mommy is the Entertainer, full time. To those who don't let their kids watch t.v., you are like, well, 'duh, it's your job.' Thanks. So all in all, we spend more time together. Just like the parent magazines want us to, oh we are so perfect! We now have a little converter upstairs in our room only. I mean I would like to know if there is some world crisis I should be up on, but that is it. And let me tell you, honestly, it is no easier today then it was the first day. I can honestly tell you I miss putting the kids to bed and just vegging to the nonsense that would ensue on t.v. But I suppose I am better for it, right? I am, I think, right? Just tell me I am. The biggest challenge is yet to come. The first six weeks after birth when this baby sleeps on his own time. I used to go down to the basement and snuggle with the baby and console myself through the fact that I never got sleep by watching a show or something. Not this time! It is me, an insomniac, and a wall. Post Partum craziness, anyone?

8. I got knocked up...again. I went back and forth with this one, really I did. When I committed to the third child, I essentially committed to the fourth, since my darling husband doesn't want a middler. Was it that traumatic for him? I am fine either way, and so in a few years, read that honey, in a few years, if I am able get pregnant again, well I am committed to the fourth. I really wanted another baby. I have gone and lost it. However, when I had the miscarriage, I was like, here we go again, and I doubted that I could go through with all the testing, the shots, the medication, the appointments, for years on end again. So in my mind I wrestled with the whole thing. Why mess with a good thing? Two happy and healthy kids, maybe I should go back to school in a little bit? But Andy and I agreed to try for a bit, and low and behold thanks to my fabulous doctors and a some major intervention from the one who creates life, he showed us that his plan for us was another one, come what may, he chose us to be this little man's parents. For a little plug; I highly recommend both my God and my doctors if you are having some fertility issues of your own.

9. Completing Kendall's Disney Princess Barbie and movie collection. This child is all about princesses. She is a princess, she plays with princesses, and if you don't like princesses, well then don't come her way. This Christmas when asked what she wanted from Santa she replied, 'Pocahantas and Tiana Barbies, and the Pocahantas movie, that way the set can be complete.' Good thing Santa could come through with this request, and that Santa stood in line on Black Friday in the Disney Store at 7:30 a.m. to get that special Tiana doll from the Disney Store, because they are 'fancier.' They are, I will attest to it. So we have appeased our wanna be princess who asks her Daddy if he would like to dance on the kitchen floor which in her mind is not covered in crumbs, but is a great ballroom, and then proposes marriage to him. Every.Single.Night. It also seems like Ethan will have to be the gallant prince who wakes the princess with a kiss at least 20 times a day upon demand, a little longer. But just when you think you are through, and the set is in fact complete, it is now, 'Well we will need all the princes to go with these princess dolls, and when does Tiana come on video so we can watch it here?' Thanks Disney.

Drumroll please...the 10th Mommy Accomplishment...

10. So this really isn't an accomplishment, well it is, you have to understand the wonderfulness of this to really deserve this. You have to have provided well for your family using alternate methods for a really long time to understand the true meaning of this. And you have to commit yourselves to provide even better for your family once you have this. You have to give it it's own space, clean it daily, and sit and stare at it at least 3 times a day.

You have to know what to use this for properly to really be an accomplished and respectful user:

That's right, mashed potatoes do taste better when whipped by the whisk attachment to your own...

That's right, there she is, Black Beauty. I screamed for 10 minutes straight when I opened this Christmas morning. That my friends is a true devotion. It was set in it's place that evening and has been pissing off all the other appliances since it's arrival, most especially Mr. Hand Held Mixer. I will again state that; No Trista, the hand held mixer is not easier then the Kitchen Aid Mixer, you have lost your head.

Thanks Mom and Dad.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-24T14:34:00.005-05:00

You won't be hearing from me until after the Christmas Festivities, so until then Feliz Navidad. I hope you get all your gifts wrapped, I am not even close. Enjoy the videos!

Must Have

2009-12-23T11:59:00.003-05:00

Ok, so I am perusing the web, catching up on old posts of other bloggers, and I come across these posters on cjane that she is advertising, and for a moment, my world stopped spinning. I cannot go on with my life without some of these prints for my home.

Here is the main site:

http://www.zazzle.com/logophilia/gifts#products

Here are those that I must have, in the near future, preferably, so that I can gain composure again. Nothing excites me more then a good find for the home that fits so perfectly you want to scream your head off.

http://www.zazzle.com/11_x_14_raise_hell_then_sleep_well_full_bleed_poster-228770560495137703

I do not care one bit that the word 'H' 'E' double hockey sticks is used in this poster. I think it is hilarious and perfect for the boys room when they get a little bit older to understand that it is a funny phrase, not one we use, per se, but very appropriate. I can hear my mother now, 'I cannot believe that a mother of small children would have that on her wall.' She is gasping and making sounds like she thinks it is the worst offense, when really, she thinks it's funny too.

I also have this half wall separating my kitchen from my living room that is just dying to have these 3 prints on the kitchen side framed in black, right in a row. I'm just saying, it might look good, that's all.

http://www.zazzle.com/11_x_14_julia_child_i_multi_color_poster-228987609937231753

http://www.zazzle.com/11_x_14_woolf_on_food_i_solid_color_poster-228913973144487167

http://www.zazzle.com/11_x_14_russian_proverb_solid_color_poster-228806644044916643

I think this may have overtaken the black kitchen aid mixer for a couple of moments, time to get on it babe, these are way cheaper!