Me Tarzan, You...live under rock.

Every once in a great while I escape for a few hours and get to walk among the big people. No one asks me to get them a snack, or refill their cup of juice and I dont have to break up a fight or put anyone in time out. I get to relax, have a couple of cocktails and enjoy the company of my friends. These events are so few and far between however, that I think I may have forgotten how to act.

I went to a friends baby shower this afternoon, and it was being held at another friends new house. This was the first time I have seen her home.
So I walk in and I am oooohing and aaaaahing at the wonderful open spaces and brand spanking new kitchen and all its shiny new gadgets. And as soon as get into the kitchen, my friend pulls me into the pantry and says "You have to see this!"
Im like, "What the pantry?" Cause....I know I dont have one, but Ive seen one before. Duh.
And she goes "No! This!" And leans over the stainless steel garbage can and waves her hand over it. It magically opens on its own. She giggles and is so proud of herself. I too giggle and am amazed at what I am seeing. I have to throw something away! I spit my gum into my hand and wave my other hand over the can and watch it open again. But we are both still staring at it so when I finally remember to toss my gum in, it closes before I can do it. So I wave my hand over it again and watch it open, yet again, and then throw my gum in.
We watched the damn thing open and close like three times. You would have thought we were cavemen looking at fire for the first time.
"Unga!"
(poking a stick at the glowing yellow flame)
"Gugg! Ooooma?"
poke. poke.

We pulled ourselves out of the pantry and joined the party. Another friend walked up and I asked her if she saw the garbage can, and she told me she had. My friend who owns the house over heard and asked what we were talking about. I pointed to the garbage and said "Your trash can." She looks at us like we had just hiked out of the Appalachians and were staring in disbelief at her indoor plumbin' and that fancy ice box, and says, "Guys, I got it from Costco. A long time ago."

I laughed it off and told her I shop at Sams Club, so that must be why Ive never seen that before. Man I gotta get out more. Whats next? Cars that park themselves and little robots that sweep your floor for you?? ;)

Words of Wisdom

Im trying a new approach to get my 4 year old to stop being a bully to my 1 year old. Apparently just telling him to stop over and over wasn't getting my point across. So I told him that he has to help me teach the baby how to be nice. He looks up to his big brother and wants to do everything he does. So lets show him how to do it. At first he just followed the baby around the house petting him on the head and saying "See Mom, this is being nice." Well yeah, I suppose it is a step up from pinning him to the floor like he did this morning.
Then he told me all the things you need to do to be nice:

1. Never pee in your diaper when the sun is up.
2. Don't pinch.
3. Share toys.
4. Never poop on someone. (this is an important one, I have to agree!)
5. Don't spray water on people, only grown ups.
6. Never kick people.

Thats it! Thats all I need to do? So next time I get cut off on the road, instead of mumbling something obscene that will eventually be regurgitated back at me by my son when I least expect it, Im going to simply say "I will not poop on you."
Who knew it was so simple?

Well since I have this soap box here.....

I just got done getting a snack for my son. I peeled an orange for him, broke it up into segments, lifting each one up to the light to check for seeds and then put them on a plate for him. He said I was the best orange maker in the world.
Hey I try.
My youngest took a 2 hour nap on my chest this afternoon, which left me sitting in front of the computer surfing the far corners of the internet. CNN is a favorite read, though rarely does it offer happy light reading. The stuff in the news is pretty disheartening to say the least. It sort of smacks me and puts things back into perspective.
Most of my posts here are just bitch sessions rolled up in candy and wearing a clown nose. It seems so much easier to ramble on about the numerous annoyances that go along with raising little human beings than it is to gush about how much I love it. And truth be told, who wants to hear that sappy crap all the time?
But at the end of the day, after the butts are wiped, the time outs are had, my voice is rested from a double shift of repetitive disciplining, these two little boogers are the absolute light of my life. When I hear my son tell me I am his favorite Mommy and I see my babies round little face peering at me over my husbands shoulder as we walk down the street, his big curls bouncing with each step, I melt. There are so many times when I just watch them and I'm in awe. I think I need to say it out loud more.
So please enjoy reading about all of my wonderful misadventures as I wander clueless down this path, with my two tour guides pointing at me and laughing, but don't think for one second that I don't see the bigger picture here and appreciate what I have.
With that, I will step down off of this soap box and put it in the garbage. Never did like those things. ;)

The Creature from the Laminate Lagoon

I decided to sweep my floor today. I don't do it nearly as often as I should. But really, its like painting a wall. Imagine you are trying to paint your wall blue, and with every brush stroke on the wall, there is your evil doppleganger right behind you covering up your blue paint with black. Pretty soon you wouldn't see much point in continuing to paint right? Im that way with sweeping. With each clean sweep of the broom, I have two little children right behind me covering my progress up with fresh layers of food crumbs, toys and juice drips.
As I'm sweeping this wad of crud thats snowballing down the hallway into a mass of "what the hell?" it occurred to me that my floor is a lot like a movie theater floor. Just as sticky, just as frightening, but without the benefit of a 90 minute escape into cinematic paradise.
Next of course after sweeping, I have to mop. This is just as much fun as the sweeping. Because the kids see the shiny wet floor and think its time for all skate. And no matter how much I threaten or warn or beg or plead, they cant stay on the carpet and wait for the floor to dry. Hell no. I may as well ask them to lick their elbows. Its just THAT physically impossible. My 4 year old is the ring leader, and the one year old is up for anything. So they snicker and give me sinister grins and charge down the hallway and inevitably slip on their asses, then coming crying to me wondering what happened and why didn't I stop them.
If you think about it, you rarely ever slip on a movie theater floor. The scary goo and popcorn crusties strewn about make for great traction. So really theres advantages to leaving the floor mucked up. Dont you think? ;)

...if only....

If screaming burned up calories
And yelling paid in cash
I'd be rich beyond my wildest dreams
and have a skinny ass.

Boys N Berries

Its not lost on me that men have such a love for their man parts. Gotta check on them periodically throughout the day. Make sure they are still there. I get it. What I didnt know, was how soon this fascination starts.
My 1 year old has already bonded with his little berries. Every chance he gets he grabs them. Tugs on them and likes to stick things on them. Whatever he has in his hand at the time of a diaper change, he wants to see how it feels on his bitty beads.
Lotion bottle? Hmmm, lets put it on my baby bits. Baby rattle? Put it on my baby bits. Ooooh mommys cell phone? Lets try THAT on my baby bits. Hotwheels, phone charger, sippy cup? You name it. If its in reach and his nethers have been freed from their pamper prison, lets try it out!
It must be some primal instinct. I imagine caveman babies did the same thing. As soon as the cavemommy took off the woolly mammoth loin cloth, the little cavebaby instantly took a cold rock and pressed it on his cavebits.
And so it was, and so it will always be.
And as proud daddies everywhere look on, they will puff up their chests, pound on them and grunt with pride.
Or maybe its just my husband that does that.

Wired

I cant prove it, but I suspect my son has an espresso machine hidden somewhere. My guess is that one of his little wooden trains is a tiny coffee maker. So when I hear his train set going "Puff Puff Wooooo Wooooo" its really just percolating.
I imagine it goes a little something like this:
(Mission Impossible music playing)
4 year old wakes up and sits up in bed, throws his covers off and tip toes to his door. He looks down the hallway and listens. All is quiet. He tip toes back to his bed and opens up his favorite stuffed ducky. (this is why he sleeps with it. It must be close at all times.) He reveals a secret pouch in the ducks belly and produces a small baggie of coffee beans. He closes his eyes and takes a big whiff. Next he goes over to his train set, pours the beans into the smoke stack of a yellow train. He takes the left over water from his sippy cup and pours it in. Then he sends the train off around the track a few times. Puff Puff Puff....Woooooooooo Woooooooo!
While his train is at work, he climbs up to the top bunk and rummages around in the blankets up there and pulls out a beautiful Royal Doulton espresso cup and saucer and climbs back down.
He pours his espresso into the fine china, and sits on the edge of his bed. He crosses one dinosaur pajama leg over the other and sips elegantly. Perhaps he even has a biscotti hidden somewhere that he dips in his drink. When he is done, he returns the cup back to its hiding place and closes up his ducky.
Then he waits.
When he starts to feel the effects kick in, he jumps up and touches he ceiling three times, spins in circles then picks his nose and goes out to wake his parents and start the day.

Them? They're my theme music. Every hero's got to have some.

Anybody remember that movie "Im Gonna Git You Sucka"? I love that movie. They talk about needing theme music. Every hero's got to have some.
Not that Im a hero or anything, but I think the theme song to my life right now would be the theme song to the Benny Hill show.
And put a day in my life on fast forward and it would be 3 minutes of me running around like a spaz chasing kids. Taking the baby off of the kitchen table, getting lunch out of the microwave. Getting the 4 year old to sit down and eat the lunch. Getting the baby off the kitchen table. Turning the TV off so the 4 year old will eat lunch. Letting the dogs out. Getting 4 year old back at the kitchen table. Taking baby off kitchen table. Letting dogs in. Waiting for 4 year old to get out of the bathroom. Getting baby out of the trash can. Wiping 4 year olds butt. Getting baby off the kitchen table.
Add that Benny Hill song and its quite comical.
The same theme song could be used for my alone time with my husband.
No. Im not talking about sex. (though THAT would be funny!)
I mean just being alone with him without the kids.
The stars aligned just right and both kids were in bed at a decent time last night. So I went into the study where my husband hangs out on the computer and we had the first half of about three different conversations. We never get to finish one because we are almost always interrupted multiple times by our children. I think they use echo location, like dolphins and if my husband and I are too close together they sense it and wake up. I bet if I listen really hard, I can hear them clicking in their sleep, trying to determine where I am in the house. Anyways by the time I have settled them back down and returned to the study I have either forgotten what it was I was talking about or have given up on it entirely. Our talks usually go something like this:
So how was your day?
It was good. Today our boss decided that we needed-
(crying from the other room)
Damn, I'll be right back.
(tend to child. return 10 minutes later)
So. I spoke to so and so today, they want to get together this weekend. Did you have any plans?
Um, I dont think so. Oh I wanted-
(4 year old yelling for more water)
Crud. Hold on.
(get 4 year old water and tell him to go to sleep.)
Anyways....where were we? Oh I got your outfit ready for tomorrow. Are you going-
(baby crying)
Shit.
(take care of baby. Return 10 minutes later)
We resort to one word sentences and grunts at this point.
Ok.
Hmmf.
This is fun.
Loads.
Long "standing in a crowded elevator" pause.
Tired?
Yep.
K. Goodnight.
Night.

Yep. That theme music fits perfectly.

Lets Make a Deal

I was warned about the terrible two's. We survived that then we were told its not the two's you need to worry about, its the three's. We picked ourselves up, dusted ourselves off, armed ourselves with a fresh arsenal of threats, promises and new parenting handbooks and went back to battle.
We fought long and hard to teach you its not okay to "poop on someone" and that just because you say excuse me each time, it doesn't mean we want to hear you burp 38 times in a row. We tried in earnest to remind you to pee IN the toilet, not around it, and its really okay to put your toy down long enough to use the bathroom. We pleaded with you to realize that your hair is not a napkin, your boogers aren't snacks and nothing good ever comes from blowing into your Capri Sun drink pouch.
So now, my sweet sweet boy. We have fulfilled our end of the bargain. We parented you as best we could, kept you alive, only slightly warped you and we have now celebrated your fourth birthday. Terrible two's and even more terrible three's are behind us now.
Its smooth sailing from here right? Anyone? Anyone?
Bueller?
.
.
.
Bueller?

I haven't heard anything about what turning four has to offer. It better be all cupcakes and bunny rabbits.
Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice, then I must be a mother of two desperate for reassurance and willing to believe whatever B.S. someone throws my way in an effort to convince myself that it will get easier.
(I think thats how the saying goes.)

Happy Birthday my amazing little monster.

Thats Wiggety Wack!

For Thanksgiving and Christmas, my husband likes to make his specialty: home made macaroni and cheese. My son absolutely loves it. He calls it Daddy Mac. (which apparently sets it apart from Mommy Mac, which comes in a little blue box with a packet of orange powder) This is great since his current menu has like 4 items on it.
So this afternoon I asked my son if he wanted some macaroni and cheese for lunch. He looks at me and asks, "Is it Daddy Mac?"
I tried to let him down easy. "No, but its the kind in the box in the cabinet that you like to eat. Want me to make that?"
He ponders this for a moment then says, "Um.....I think I'll wait til next Thanksgiving."

*tap*tap* Is this thing on??

So my son is a comedian. He likes to tell jokes. Really funny jokes. Great in both quality AND quantity. And when he gets going, he can tell jokes for hours.
Knee slappers like these:
Have you ever seen a bumblebee on a train with a tree branch underneath?
HAHAHAHA!!
Or:
Have you ever seen a dishwasher with a bowl of poop on top and an elephant sitting on it?
HAHAHAHA!!
Oh and you have to laugh with him or he will just repeat himself over and over until he gets the reaction from you that he wants.
Another great one is:
Have you ever seen a dog on top of a train with a poop (yes, poop again) on it?
HAHAHAHAheheheguguuuuuurg (banging head against wall)

Here, let me try:
Have you ever seen a mom with her hair standing up on end and falling out in clumps with one pupil bigger than the other, scream in octaves only dogs and/or dolphins can understand and leave a giant mom shaped hole in the front door?
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
Im serious. Have you?
Watch.

Shining ghosts from Christmas past

I was looking in the mirror brushing my hair this morning and what do I see? Smiling at me, all sparkly and pretty and winking at me like "YooHoo remember me?? Remember what fun we had when I jumped out of my bottle and stuck like krazy glue to the table no matter how much you scrubbed and cursed?"
A piece of glitter.
$#&$ glitter.
It was one tiny square on my face, right below my hair line. Im glad I caught it when I did, because I am fairly certain it had already called upon 40 of his closest friends and they were on their way over to line up there and form a beautiful glittery "L" on my forehead.
%&#$ glitter.