shhhhhhhhHappy New YearZzZzZzZz....*

Its New Years Eve!!! You know what that means right???
It means:
At 7 o' clock the kids get put in their jammies.
At 7:20, I put on my best pair of pajama bottoms and a clean sweatshirt.
What? I dont want to look sloppy on New Years Eve! Dang.
At 8 I get the kids ready for bed. (which means I just threaten them. "Its almost bedtime! Im serious this time!!"
At 8:30, I update my blog. (because millions of readers are on pins and needles waiting for these tasty morsels. *snicker*)
By 9, I will have my kids in bed.
I will then have maybe 10 minutes to sit on the sofa next to my husband while we stare pitifully at the TV and reminisce about the New Years Eve parties of yore, while sipping a glass of wine.
Then he will probably turn on his Playstation, which will in turn lead to me downing the rest of my glass of wine and retreating to the bedroom. I will sit in bed and play my Nintendo game with one eye, while watching Dick Clark on the television with the other eye.
At 11:59:45, I will pause my game, sneak out of bed and go out into the den. I will either smack my husband on the head to wake him up, or I will stand in front of the TV, thereby forcing him to leave his buddies in the "trenches" (or whatever violent crap it is he is currently playing) and tell him "Happy New Year!" Give him a celebratory kiss. Then back to bed I go.

Doesnt get much better than that. =)
Happy New Year everybody!

Its a game of Cat(sup) and Mouse!

So my 1 year old has only two goals in life right now. To get the ketchup bottle out of the fridge every time the door is open, and to get my wireless computer mouse when I have my back turned.
He is swift and stealth.
He is like a cat who hears the can opener and knows its dinner time. He hears the fridge open and teleports from any room in the house and is there instantly. Seriously.
I was already in the kitchen getting coffee, and he was playing in the family room. My husband walked in from the den and opened the fridge just long enough to grab the juice. He quickly closed it. We have learned that you have to be quick or else the bottom shelf of the fridge gets emptied in a matter of seconds. Anyways, thinking he was successful at outwitting the baby, he closes the fridge door, and standing there directly behind the door was my son. Ketchup bottle in hand. My husband did a double take like "What the-?" You dont even see him grab it, he is just that quick!
Same goes with my mouse. I was sitting here at my computer and both boys were back in the bedroom playing. I heard my 1 year old start crying. (I will later wonder if this was just a ruse to lure me away.) So I go back there to investigate. I make sure both kids are in one piece and not bleeding anywhere. Then I start grilling my 4 year old to find out what happened. I swear I only asked one question, and I turn around, and my 1 year old is right there with my mouse in hand looking all too proud. How the hell he bolted down the hallway, grabbed the mouse, then got back in the room without me noticing is beyond me.
He is like that kid from The Incredibles!
Well I better go see what he is into now-
...wait.Wheres my mouse?...... ;)

Toys Are Us!

Welcome to the house of plastic and batteries. And nary a volume control to be found. (whats up with that? Do the toymakers do this on purpose?) As far as the eye can see, every wall in every room is lined with shiny new toys. Each with their own individual tune, or trick or flashing light to tickle a childs fancy and make the parents eyes cross and start twitching.
Ignoring the information we gave him, Santa apparently decided against coal and thought my son was indeed a good boy and showered him with all kinds of goodies. His current obsession is trains. Anything and everything train. Yesterday afternoon, he zipped from room to room trying to play with everything at once. He sat in the family room for a minute to watch his new Thomas the Train DVD. Then he would bolt to the dining room where he set up his new train set. Then off to the den where he left his Rail Road crossing signal set up next to Daddy. Back and forth he went for a good hour or more. I half expected to see him stop dead in his tracks spin in circles and pass out from overload.
*never happened though*
My step brother wanted to bring the boys some gifts and called me for ideas. Knowing that the kids were spoiled silly I didnt know off hand what toys they would want that they didnt already have. (I know. We're bad.) So I suggested either books, movies or perhaps pajamas with feet. He went with the pajamas. So he arrived with the packages and gave me this look like "Why'd you make me get pajamas. Kids dont like pajamas." Well you know a 1 year old could care less, he was more interested in eating the wrapping paper and sitting in the box his pajamas came in. This was to be expected. My almost 4 year old though was funny. He looked apprehensively at his present and looked to me for approval before tearing into it. And he pulled out two pairs of footed pajamas and again looked to me for guidance on how to proceed. Kind of like "Mom, what is this shit? What the hell do I do with this?" So I looked all excited and lead the way. (and truth be told, I was excited. They both needed new footed jammies!)
"Oooh! You got new race car jammies!! Thats cool huh!?"
And he took on this brainwashed look and nodded with me, half smiling. He whispered a soft "Yeah." Then he went back to the race track that my other brother bought for him.
My step brother looked at me and said "Look, you made me into THAT Uncle. The one who brings the dumb gifts no one wants." Haha!
I was fired on the spot and he said next year he will talk to my kids directly to find out what they want.
All in all, it was a great day. My poor husband was sitting on the couch slumped over half dead. One eye was already rolled back in his head and was sleeping. He had been up until 3 am assembling this humongous train set that came in 1,698 pieces. (ok, maybe not quite that many.) Then he had to get up early for Christmas, and carefully create and watch over his turkey masterpiece. So bed time could not come fast enough. And after no naps, too much sugar and waaaaaay too much stimulation, the kids finally went to bed. And so did we.
And to all....a good night. =)

Cant See the Forest Through the Sneeze

In the center of our mall, there is this play area. Its got these big plastic play things to climb all over. A hallowed out tree with a slide, a caterpillar and log and I think some mushrooms. I always cringe every time I see it. Luckily we are hardly there to begin with and when we are there, we usually go park by the store we want to go to and go directly in and avoid the common area of the mall.
But ever so often we are forced to navigate through the masses and of course there is just no getting past that "Forest of Fun" without our sons radar catching it. Where as he merely sees a caterpillar to climb on, I see millions of tiny influenza cruds dancing around, using chest cold germs as hula hoops, enticing our children to come closer, so they can pounce on them and infect them with cooties. And that log. Not just a log. Its a community tissue. Im sure the realistic texture of the bark is just layer upon layer of dried boogies. Yes I know I cannot keep my child away from all germs all the time. I know that one day he will be in school and I will no longer have control over his hands and what he touches and where he puts them.
*shudder*
But dammit. He's not in school yet. So let me obsess will ya?
When he points over there and asks to play, I scan the area, see all the kids and the chaos and the tired beat down parents sitting on the outskirts, I just cant bring myself to do it. I just cant. I know. My poor kids. I just hit the turbo on my stroller and race past it, and sing a song, chant "Blah blah blah, cant hear you!!!" or ask him some odd question to change the subject.
HAHA! Mommy-1, Cooties-0
Take that!

I believe in Santa and toilet paper.

Today my husband and I took the kids to ride the Polar Express. We didnt tell our 3 year old where we were going at first. The Polar Express is one of his favorite movies and we wanted to surprise him. He did question why we dressed him up in his pajamas and robe before we left the house. As is the usual routine when you have a freshly potty trained child, we made him use the potty before we left. Then when we got there we took him to the restroom before we boarded the train. He didnt have to go then. We warned him there were no bathrooms on the train. Then we got on the train and there was an announcement made again that there were no bathrooms on the train.
We pulled out of the station on our magical adventure. It was really cute. There were tap dancing waiters holding trays of hot chocolate and cookies, and they read the story to us on our journey to the north pole. We were talking to our son and asked him if believed. We were being dramatic and leaned in really close and said, "Well? Do you believe?? Do you???" And he leaned in right back at us and got really serious and said. "Well....I belieeeeeeve....theres no bathrooms on the train!"

When we got to the "North Pole", we had to wait for the engine to disconnect and go around to the back of the train and reconnect to pull us back home. So we were sitting there for a bit. Of course, on a train FULL of kids tanked up on hot chocolate and cookies, it was not quiet. Restless children were bouncing in the seats and sticking arms and heads out of the windows. It was like being in the monkey cage at the zoo. Monkeys in flannel pajamas. But slightly domesticated monkeys, as there was no poo being flung. As we sat with our monkey children looking at all the other parents who were sitting with their monkey children, my husband says to me, "I dont remember this in the movie."

Santa boarded the train and rode with us back to the station. He went to all the kids and handed them a little bell. As he was approaching, we told our son that now was his chance to tell him that he has been a good boy. (Despite what we tell him every time he does something ornery to his little brother. Daily.) He looks up ahead at Santa, then looks back at us and says, "Well...."
He begins his most thought out statements like that. "Well..why dont you just tell him that Ive been a good boy."
"Uh uh! We arent gonna tell him!"
(and I mumbled to my husband, "Im not gonna lie to Santa.") "You have to tell him yourself!"
He of course didnt say anything, being the stranger hater that he is. But he did accept the bell from him, which he then shook and shook and shook until we were ready to chuck it out the window. Then juuuuuust as the train pulled into the station, he said he had to pee. Eeek!
Luckily we scrambled off the train and got him to a bathroom in time.
We jingled all the way back home (damn bell) and hopefully gave our son some happy memories.

They're coming to take me away, HaHaHoHoHeeHee.....

Im convinced my children are conspiring against me. I think they have secret meetings cleverly disguised as "playing nicely in their room". They talk about what they can do to push me over the edge. They wont stop until they see me taken away by the nice men in the white coats who will whisk me a away to a happy place with pretty pills and padded walls.
The cold weather has kept us indoors more than usual and my 3 year old has had to come up with new activities to entertain himself. Fun games like "Take the toy from baby brother." or "Push baby brother down for no apparent reason." or "Get in baby brothers face and growl like a rabid bear and scare the piddle out of him."
You know. Fun games.
And then of course his baby brother has to entertain himself as well. He chooses such games as "Try to get big brothers sippy cup, then cry when I cant have it." and "Walk around all the tables and counters in the house and look for anything hanging off the edge and pull it down and make a mess of it." or my favorite "Push the buttons on the TV and turn the sound off over and over and over and over and over and over and over again." This last one provides all day entertainment.
The best is when the two get together and play said games simultaneously all throughout the day until I am ready to pull my hair out, sit in a corner and rock back and forth while rolling up little balls of foil.
Well break up the day you say. Do activities with them you say.
Okay.
A few weeks back my husband brought home an activity book so my son and I can make paper snowflakes. I had been avoiding this because inside this activity book is a little bottle of glitter.
Glitter.
You know what glitter is right? Impossibly tiny flecks of shiny shit that stick to every surface with stubborn might and duck and dodge all efforts to remove them and then 2 years down the road when you least expect it, something shimmery will catch your eye and you will look down and see a piece of glitter smiling up at you. It may even be flipping you off. So yeah, thats glitter.
Anyways....I saw my 1 year old playing nicely with his toys in the living room and jumped at the chance. I brought the 3 year old into the kitchen and we colored snowflakes. Then I put some glue on them and then I let him go to town with the glitter. It was good for about 15 minutes of sparkly fun.
After we were done, I started to clean my kitchen which by now looked like a disco ball exploded into a million tiny little silvery pieces, and my son took off back into the living room and snatched a toy away from his baby brother. Which in turn made him cry. So here we go again.....
If anyone needs me, I'll be in my driveway waiting for the nice men in the white coats. Whats taking them so long?

Pulp Non-Fiction

Orange pulp on the legs of my pants.
Orange pulp on my butt from when I sat in my computer chair.
Orange pulp on my elbow.
Orange pulp squished into my sock from walking into the kitchen.
Orange pulp in my child's hair.
Orange pulp balancing precariously on the top fibers of my carpet just waiting to be ground down into oblivion with someones foot.
Orange pulp doing a seductive dance as it slinks in between the bumps in the texture on its slow decent down the wall in the hallway.
Number 623,947 on my list of not so smart things to do:
Allowing my 1 year old to walk around the house eating mandarin slices. =/

Cuz who wants boogers with cavities?

Everynight when I tuck my 3 year old into bed, I hand him a small cup of ice water and two pills. One is his fluoride tablet, and the other is a Flintstones vitamin. And I hand them to him one at a time and make him crunch them while I am standing there. I didnt really have a reason why I did that. I suppose I had visions of him hoarding them under his bed then eating them all at once two weeks later. Or him losing one and the baby finding it and choking on it. No real reason. Until two nights ago....
I was busy nursing the baby back in the bedroom and asked my husband to give him his fluoride and vitamin. I heard him go in there. Then it was quiet. Then I heard my husbands muffled voice, obviously agitated. I heard something along the lines of:
"What the?"
"Where?"
"Why'd you?"
"Dont you ever!"
I couldnt make out the whole conversation and had to wait patiently for him to report back to me. He finally comes back to the room and in an incredulous tone says "He shoved the fluoride pill up his damn nose!"
He is staring at me with this serious look on his face like he just told me that our child stole a car or something. But you cant tell me that my kid stuck a pill up his nose and expect me to keep a straight face. I'm sorry.
I turn my head, tears streaming down my face as he explains that he handed him the pills, then walked across the hall (this is where he went wrong) and got his own vitamins to take. And when he went back in the room my son was looking uncomfortable.
(Sort of how I imagine one might look moments after they had inserted a pill into their nose.)
So he asked him where his pills were and he told him what he did. So he plugged up the free nostril and made him shoot the pill back out. Then in an effort to teach him a lesson, he actually tried to tell him he still had to eat it. Well of course that didn't work. He told him he didn't want to eat it because it had boogers on it.
And it did.
My husband was still holding the slimy thing in his hand as proof.
I'm still giggling and crying in my hands and my husband tells me "ITS NOT FUNNY!" But he couldnt get "Funny" out without bursting into laughter himself.
I suggested next time, that he stand there and wait for him to crunch his pills before he walks away.

He took the Who pudding, he took the roast beast...

This afternoon I, apparently still feeling the holiday high from 3 days of turkey dinners or the peppermint ice cream I had just eaten, decided to put up our fake tree and enlist the help of my three year old. The one year old, was left to his own devices. This is how it went down:
"Ive got a branch! Ive got a branch Mommy.
Mommy, heres a branch. Ive got a branch. Mom. Heres a branch. Moooooooom, I SAID heres a branch. Mommy I have a branch...."
(stop baby from digging in the trash)
"Mommy I have the next branch. MOM! Heres a branch. Awwwwwww I was gonna give that you. I said I would get the branch. Heres a branch Mommy. Mommy, look! He's got the remote!"
(take remote from baby)
"Is that the last branch? Heres a branch mommy. Remember when you were a little girl and you helped me put the tree up??"
*?*
"Heres a branch mommy. Mommy, heres a branch."
(Get dog food out of baby's hands)
"Are we done? Heres a branch. I got it before you did! Neener Neener Neeeener! Moooommy! Heres a branch. Take it Mommy, its heavy. Heres a branch Mom."
(Get baby out of garbage can again)
"Is Christmas here yet? I think its gonna snow. "
"It doesn't snow here."
"I think it does! The sun is going down, its gonna snow."
"It doesn't snow here."
(take two cans of cream of mushroom soup and a bottle of brandy away from the baby)
"I think it dooooooes. Its gonna snow a little bit. Heres a branch Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Are we done yet?"
"Yes!"


Thank God.
Where'd I put that brandy?.....

Wild Crayola Kingdom

This afternoon I decided to set my three year old up with some pens and paper so I could get my kitchen cleaned. By the way, cleaning a kitchen with an 11 month old on the loose is a little like rowing a boat with one oar.
In a whirlpool.
(whose idea was it anyway to have a designated Tupperware drawer within reach of a baby? It seemed like every house Ive been to that had kids, had a Tupperware drawer. And since I had a drawer that was full of knives, I converted it to a Tupperware drawer. Dumbest thing in the world. My kitchen now looks like the dishwasher threw up everywhere. All. The. Time. But thats a whole other story)
Anyways, I get the kitchen cleaned up (minus the floor, ahem.) and I put the baby in the high chair with some cheerios and Im watching my three year old draw. He takes requests even. So I suggest he draw a picture of his family.
"Okay!" He says enthusiastically. And he starts off with a big ass circle on the page. "This is your big humongous head."
Um. Thanks. Then he draws three other smaller heads. Whatever. I wont even go into how he drew my feet bigger than my husbands. I guess it could have been worse. I did appreciate the understated stick body he gave me. =)
He then finishes his drawing and holds it up to show me. I gush and tell him how wonderful it is and then he suggests we "Magnet it up on the fridge." But on his way he stops to show the baby.
And things get ugly from there.
He held his picture a little too close to the baby and like a crocodile who has been waiting in the water all afternoon for the unknowing Gazelle that stopped to take a drink, he sprung. Tiny fingers clamped down on the picture with no mercy. Cue in pissed off wind up.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh. LET GO!"
I jumped up and tried to stop him from pulling his picture away. After all you know that unsuspecting Gazelle wasn't successful at pulling his leg out of the mouth of the croc. Oh no. Big mess. But I didnt get there in time. The picture ripped. The pieces floated to the floor in slow motion. We all stood there for what seemed an eternity looking at the carnage, before my sons face scrunched up and he kicked the picture away, disowned it and stormed off.
I did tape the picture back together and "magnet it up on the fridge." We'll see if he acknowledges it or not. I fear it may be too little too late.
But my kitchen is clean! ;)
(except for the plastic roadkill on the floor)

The Hunt for Green November

So we have a rogue sippy cup in our house. Its got half a tank of apple juice and evil intentions. Its been MIA since yesterday morning. I started my search last night with no success, and its continued into this morning.
My children just drop things randomly throughout the house. I know. I kick them, step over them, step on them all day long. So why the top secret location for this cup? My three year old announces that we are going to play hide and seek. He tells me he is going to go hide under the covers and tells me to count to ten. Then after I get to ten, he yells "Ready or not, here I come!" and jumps out.
Three year old. Easy to locate. This cup? Not so much.
Its a race to see who gets it first. If I win, cup gets washed and we go about our lives. If the kids win....I cringe at the thought.
So until the elusive sippy cup is found, Mom is on high alert.

Bleach Bum?

My son wiped his butt last night with Clorox wipes.
That's all Im gonna say.

DingDongDingDongDingDongDingDong......

Last night was Halloween. (well Duh.)
We took the kids to a friends house, so all the kids could go trick or treating together. As I watched my 3 year old running up the street on the heels of his little friend, I came to the realization, that I need to get that boy out more. He was entirely too excited to be there. He was dressed up in a lion costume and practically flying from house to house, feet barely touching the ground, he would whiz past all the other kids so he could get to the door first. Then he would ring the doorbell 12 times, then knock 14 times. Then after he got his treat he would come barreling down the driveway holding up his bag of candy to show me. Then right back to flying down the sidewalk on the heels of his friend. We would tell him to slow down a little, quit running, stop pushing to the front, be patient, quit attacking the doorbell, stop yelling. We may as well have been talking to a rock. He ran, he pushed past people, he impatiently attacked door bells while yelling. I was afraid the other parents with us were secretly thinking that our "little lion" was really a feral cat.
But in the end, he got to dress up, get a bunch of candy, play with other kids his age and thats what really counts. It truly was cute to watch them all interacting with one another and talking to each other as only three year olds can. It was a Happy Halloween. ;)

Boo!

Halloweens here!
I’m gonna scream and shout!
The goblins and ghosts are walking about.
But besides the usual spooks and scares…
What really makes me freak
Is taking the little ones out tonight
For the annual trick or treat.
Kids falling over and candy scattering
Over indulging, and tossed cookies splattering
Don’t cry, its not a ghost, its just a covered tree.
What? Here right now? You really have to pee?
Stop fighting, stop hitting, give that lollipop back!
Quit running you’re giving me a heart attack.
Your feet hurt now? Well take it as a sign.
Its time to go home. No? Okay, one more time.
Around the block to collect more loot.
But this is it, I’m putting down my boot.
Get back here, get up here, slow down speed it up.
What is that? Don’t touch that! No we cant have that pup.
I’m not gonna carry you, come on we’re almost here.
Thank goodness Halloween comes but once a year.
Then home again to begin the task
Of rationing candy, oh where’s my flask?
One more piece, that’s the last one.
Its time for bed, I know I’m not fun.
No you can’t sleep in your costume and not with your candy.
But here’s one last piece (these bribes come in handy)
I survived the outing, the kids were really wired.
Now its time for bed, cause dang it, I’m tired!

It's on like Donkey Kong!

You remember Donkey Kong? All Mario has to do is save the girl. Seems easy enough. However he has to climb multiple platforms, and jump over various obstacles before he can save her from the ape.
This is a lot like me trying to get out the door with two kids. All I want to do is get to the store. But to do that, I have to tackle one kid, change his diaper, put clothes on him, and set him back down. Then I have to hunt the other kid down (who is bigger and quicker) tackle him, and argue over what underwear he wants to wear. Then chase him down again after the underwear are on and fight him to get his shirt on. Chase him yet again and get the pants on. Then we have the fun game of catch the feet to put socks on.
(while I'm playing this game mind you, the baby has gone off into a corner unable to resist a fresh diaper, and is pooping)
Get the socks on, send him off on a scavenger hunt to track down his shoes. Walk into the living room, get knocked over by the smell, locate the smell, and go back into the nursery to change his diaper for the second time.
Then back to the three year old who planted himself in front of the television instead of looking for his shoes. Remind him we are going somewhere. Go find the shoes myself. Watch as he puts them on the wrong feet.
Find baby again.
Remind three year old to go pee first before getting in the truck.
Get baby in car seat. Find three year old standing at the door naked from the waist down. Get him dressed again and strap him in next to his brother. Fight urge to run back in the house and enjoy the solitude.
Go to the store.
Forget 1/2 the things I needed.

*_*_*_*_GAME OVER_*_*_*_*

You Spin Me Right Round Baby Right Round.....

Tucking in my 3 year old:
"Wheres your ducky?"
"Um, I dont need my ducky anymore."
"You dont?"
"Um, no I can sleep. I dont need my ducky."
"Oh okay, you dont need your ducky to help you sleep anymore?"
"No, Im a big boy."
"Alright, if you dont need it then...."
"Um, I dont need my ducky. Buuuuuuuuuuuut I just need my ducky."
"So you DO want your ducky?"
"Yeah."
"Um.Ok. "


Im dizzy.

Creepy PeePee!

So Im chasing my baby down the hallway and my 3 year old is in the bathroom taking a tinkle. All the sudden I hear, "Mommy! Ma-ha-ha-ha-ha-meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
(Thats how he sounds when he is freaked out and needs to express how urgent and serious the situation is.)
So I rush into the bathroom, and he is standing at the toilet, pants around his ankles pointing at the black hairy spider making its way across the floor.
Apparently, this eight legged visitor dropped down the back of the bathroom door and onto the floor, surprising him mid stream.
*giggle*
Mommy took care of it. And all is well.
Almost.
I have to go clean the bathroom now.

Letter of Apology to my Mother

I would like to apologize to my mother for all the torment I put her through when I was a child.

Im sorry I acted like I knew more than you do. Im sorry I acted like my way was better than your way, even when ultimately my way crashed and burned and I ended having to do it your way, but never admitted that it was your way or that it was better. I am sorry I back talked, cursed, gave you dirty looks, disrespected and defied you. I am sorry that I refused to listen to you when you offered advice, then acted like it was your fault that I didnt take that advice.
For all of it. I am sorry.

And Id like to thank you too. Thank you for not selling me to the gypsies as you often threatened. Thank you for warning me that I would get worms if I didnt wash my hands or cook my chicken thoroughly. Oh, and thank you for telling me that the little white spots on my finger nails were from not eating my vegetables. (thats great advice by the way. I got lots of strange looks when I shared that one at school.) Thank you for not knocking my block off when I did things that truly defied logic. I am eternally in your debt.

She spoke to me prophetically when she used to say "I hope when you have kids one day, they act just like you do." Ha!
I think I have one of those now.


*Though let me add this: The apology, though sincere, only pertains to the small fraction of time that I was ornery. I do believe, and I think my mom will back me up here, that about 98% of the time, I was an angel.
What? 98% isn't accurate?
More like 60/40?
No?
50/50?
Eh, what do you know anyways? ;)

Be Still My Heart

Im nestled in my bed, next to my sleeping 10 month old watching TV. My three year old is asleep too. For now anyways.
This is my quiet time. The time I can just watch TV or read a magazine. Or play my Brain Age game. (gotta work on getting my mind back ya know) Anyways, so I am laying in bed and its approaching midnight, and I am going to watch the first 10 minutes of Nancy Grace before my eyes roll back into my head and I only hear every third word that Nancy is saying .
Well at the stroke of midnight, I hear this deafening static noise. It seems so loud, like its coming from inside my brain and my eyes fly open and I suddenly realize its the alarm on my clock radio. Obviously set to "radio", obviously not programmed on any particular station, and obviously turned up full blast. And most obvious of all.....my son has been in my room again.
I managed to fumble around and find the volume and get it turned down, then I try to focus my eyeballs on finding the off switch, each pounding beat of my heart shaking them seemingly out of their sockets.
I spend the next couple of minutes trying to regulate my breathing and stop the shakes.
How the baby didn't wake up, I will never know. But at least now I get to watch a little more of Nancy Grace than I anticipated.

Lennie likes da bunnies ;)

So I was watching Oprah yesterday and Dr. Oz was explaining how when women are pregnant, their brains shrink by up to 8% because the baby is sucking them dry of all of the Omega 3's! So you know what this means?? Mommy brain is REAL! I cannot tell you how relieved I am to know this.
This explains a lot. Right after my second son was born, I was sitting with my husband and we were watching LOST together. Now even on a good day, LOST can be a bit hard to follow.My husband was trying to tell me his theories on what was happening. Then he would ask me a question about something that happened 3 seasons ago and I would stare at him blankly. He may as well have asked me to give a detailed breakdown of the inner workings of a rocket engine. I tried hard to think of something relevant to say, I paused as if pondering how to express my thoughts, knowing damn well there were no thoughts to express. In the end all I could do was stutter and lie. Then he would explain to me what was going on and my eyes would glaze over and my shrunken brain would wander off into a black hole until he would ask me a question and my mind would drag itself back into the present and I would do the only thing I knew how at that moment. I stuttered and lied again. He looked at me like I had been eating paint chips my whole life and eventually stopped talking to me about it.
But you see? Its not my fault! My kids took 8 % of my brain!
On the plus side, as my baby approaches his first birthday, I feel like I may have regained some of my brain mass. And just in time for the next season of LOST to start up.
I WILL be taking notes. =)

The Doctor is In, and I am Out (of my mind)

My 10 month old has a doctors appointment today. My husband has always accompanied us on these excursions. He provides the wonderful gift of distraction so my three year old doesn't see the baby get shots. And since the three year old has a profound dislike of doctors or any adults he does not know who dare get within a foot of him, this is especially helpful.
Well he cannot make it this time.
Its just me. I have to take the chattering-doctor-hater and the newfound-fear-of-strangers into an office full of doctors and strangers. And whats worse, my three year old will get to witness the stranger doctor people poking at the baby and making him cry. Then in three months, I will have to take this three year old who witnessed todays horrors and expect him to sit still while said stranger doctor attempts to get dangerously close AND poke him too!
This is gonna be fun!

I have to go now, my three year old has taken the baby hostage and is torturing him with his own bottle by squeezing the liner inside and squirting him with juice.
Sigh.

Got Weeds?

My son does the sweetest thing. Lately whenever he goes for a bike ride with my husband, he will come home with a flower. As soon as he returns home, he jumps off his bike, bolts for the house yelling my name. Then, with his face beaming with pride, he hands me the flower he picked.
"I picked this flower for you! Do you like it?"
Do I like it? Are you serious? This one tiny gesture reminds me that the terrible three's aren't all terrible. Its maybe 85/15 now. ;)
I don't like it. I love it! I live for it!
I asked my husband if he put him up to this. He told me he had nothing to do with it. That makes it all the sweeter.
I will never look at a dandelion or a white clover flower the same again.

3 o' clock zone out

If I wasnt breastfeeding, I think my coffee pot would have a full time job. Everyday, no matter if I have been running around, or just sitting here, right around 3 in the afternoon, my energy checks out and I feel like Im going to fall over.
*GAME OVER*
The only problem is that it takes a miracle aligning of the stars to get both kids down for naps at the same time, so I rarely get a chance to recharge. Instead I just drag my ass around until I get my second wind around 4 or so.
Plus I really have a hard time wasting precious quiet time on sleeping. I would rather sit and enjoy the peace.
Sleep is for wimps.

Well this is intimidating.

Ive decided to join the countless number of SAHM's who blog. This is just what you do when you are home with the kids right? Where to begin. What to say. Does anyone really even give a rats ass?
I am sitting here, with my 10 month old passed out in my lap, and my 3 year old bellowing from his bed. He can never just go to sleep. Its a process. A long drawn out process that includes umpteen kisses, multiple tuck-ins, and peppered with a few threats.
And after all that, there is still no guarantee that he will sleep through the night. Theres a high probability that he will wake up 1,2 maybe 3 times in the middle of the night and whine that spine tingling, hair raising, blood boiling whine "I cant sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!" Then I have to peel myself out from under my co-sleeping 10 month old, tip toe to his room and do that combo kiss/tuck/reassure/threat routine then bolt back to bed just in time to catch the baby who has now woken up and is inching his way towards the edge of the bed.
Rinse, and repeat.
I have not slept since 2004. And I think it shows. ;)