If you are
HERE,
You need to go
HERE.
Same Rambling, Same Awkwardness, Just a New Name on a New Blog.
Enjoy.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
My Nugget
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
One of those Days
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.
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.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The U-Haul is Here!
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.
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 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.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
It's Stanley's 3rd Birthday...he has a few things he would like to share.
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
It's Coming...bring on the Pity...
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.**
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.**
Friday, January 14, 2011
Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Darling
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.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
“If you treat a sick child like an adult and a sick adult like a child, everything usually works out pretty well” ~ Ruth Carlisle
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 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.
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?
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
'THAT' Toy
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.
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?
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?
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Why I Love 3 Year Olds...
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Why I Love 4 Year Olds
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Home Goods Holiday Spenditure
**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.
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.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Chub in a Tub
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.
Friday, December 10, 2010
O' Tannenbaum
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.
'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.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
This One Time...
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.
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.
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