Good Day Sunshine!

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

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!

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!

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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.