Sled-scapades!

I have to say that I am fairly proud of myself at this point.  Against my better judgement (and that of the man in the store parking lot) I bought a sled for the kids on Wednesday.  There was snow in the forecast for Thursday and even though it has been as dry as the Mojave Desert here this winter I gave it a shot.  For some reason when weather.com forecasts 100% chance of snow I feel we've got a shot.  Luckily, they were right.  If they had been wrong I would have been pulling my children on the asphalt in the middle of the street regardless.  The female mini would have NEVER let me live it down and guilted me with her sad ass face to do so and I must admit I probably would have caved.  So I was taking a pretty big meteorological gamble with this purchase.  And being that snow isn't even sniffed in the forecast for the next two weeks it could have been a LONG go of it.  I envisioned actually having pulled them sans snow so many times that the cement would have eaten a hole through the bottom of the sled, rendering it unusable.  Fortunately this will not be the case as now they have a previously associated requirement for use of the sled...snow!

Honestly,  I was a little nervous about this next part.  I don't know where the thought came from but I foresaw pulling my kids in the snow to be a back-breaking experience.  I am so out of shape that I wasn't sure I would make it.  So I came up with an idea!  I figured, I have 2 kids at 30+ pounds each equalling roughly 70 pounds total...this is more than half my body weight...no WAY I could pull this sleigh alone.  Hubba is out of the question as he is away slaving at the salt mines.  There had to be another helper....THE DOG!  It was the perfect crime!  He's got tons of energy and as the 3YOG so nicely pointed out "that is what dogs are for Mommy...pulling sleds!"  This kid watches too much Diego!  So I get everyone bundled up, and ready for our arctic adventure.  An hour later we are ready to go.  I get the dog outside and bridled up and he is just fired up because he is finally going to get to go for a walk.  I first start out with the bungee chords.  HA!  That was a huge flop.  The dog looked at me like "You CAN'T be serious!"  The kids were yelling "Go Titin! Goooo! Vamanos!" and he just stood there heavily peeved, trying to bite off the chords.  I tried to coerce him and he snubbed me again.  So I moved on to a less rigid pulley system.  I found a really long rope to string through the front which I then attached to his leash.  I served as the go-between in the situation and let the horsey run in front while I ran in the middle to ensure that if the kids went flying I stood a fighting chance of catching at least one.  This arrangement he was ok with.  So we started to joy ride....

We ran while the kids launched over previously shoveled walkway piles.  They served as mini jumps for them.  They waggled on the ice, skid around corners and weeeeeeeed the whole way.  We sang "Jingle Bells" at the tops of our lungs (the neighbors must have LOVED us) and quickly changed the lyrics to a "one dog open sleigh."  Every time I looked back the kids had more snow piled atop their heads and bigger smiles atop their faces!  They both looked like they had just won the lottery.

At about a quarter mile I thought I was going to throw up.  This is the most running I have done in a looong time.  Mama don't run.  More of a water kinda gal.  And since having the kids well, let's just say when I run I don't exactly come back as dry as I left.  So I reserve running for times of emergency or immediately following a usage of the facilities.  I don't like to leave things up to fate.  This is usually the first ingredient in a recipe for disaster.  So needless to say I was a bit winded.  And being that the dog was pulling twice his body weight he was a little fatigued as well.  He started to sniff more and slow his clip to a mild speed.  No longer the "run like I'm being chased by a water buffalo" rate.  I then noticed a strong odor...clearly this little trip was taking it's toll on the poor pup.  The Titin Toots were killing me...being the go-between I could go nowhere for a breath of fresh air.  I was stuck.  He clearly needed a poop break.  This was my cue to end out little excursion and send this sleigh home.  The kids faces were bright red and I felt it was a respectable maiden voyage.  When we got home daddy came pulling in the drive only moments later.  We took another couple of spins in the "coupe."  I pulled them sans dog around the front yard.  Got going around a tree at a fairly respectable rate of speed and dumped the whole load.  They both went flying face first into the snow.  The 1st fall they thought was pretty funny.  The 2nd fall...not so much.  The Moose came up with a snow wash of the likes that I don't think I have ever seen.  Being the mean mom that I am, I tried to take a picture but most of it had melted by the time the camera was ready.  Hubba and I were laughing so hard it was almost mean.  Then I went to snuggle the little guy and he was back in the game.  Amazing what a little pity can do to a man.  Words to live by, no doubt!  

Post Snow Wash

Then Hubba took the reigns and led the princess down the street, around the corner and down a fairly good sized hill.  I've never seen this girl so happy.  She zoomed down with speed, precision and knowledge that she has the best dad who ever walked.  Metaphorically, a dad who would literally "pull her" through anything--it was quite a sight!  Leave it to me to spin a moment of glee into a serious life revelation...

All in all it was a great day.  I somehow managed to burn our crock pot dinner--don't know anyone in the free union capable of burning something in a crock pot but here I stand with my crown!  But we made our kids happy, ran the life out of our dog (he is STILL sleeping), I learned a little about physics, learned a lot about life and had the kind of day that I will look back on in 20 years and smile about.  As I was putting Mya to bed last night I asked her what she was going to dream about.  She replied "I am going to dream about all of the wonderful things we did today!"  Couldn't feel more blessed if I tried.  Happy New Year to one and all!  Much love, prosperity and health to you in 2011! 



                                                                                             Snow Angel :)



Diaper Dilemma

Here is my ponderance for the day...what the hell did people do before disposable diapers?  I know, I know, they used cloth.  But my question is HOW!?  There must have been one hell of a lot of laundry gettin done. 

I am brought to this ponderance by this morning's wake up call.  I hear "Mommmm, Mommmmm!" over the monitor and assume that the boy is up for the day.  It's 6:00...half hour longer than usual but it makes sense.  So I run up the stairs to retrieve the boy and in the dark of the snowy morning the little man bleats, "Woook!  Messss!" and points to some smatherings in his crib.  I've been a tad under the weather for the past 48 so I just assume that he has picked up what I have and has either A. An abundance of snot or B. Puked a little.  Upon turning on the light I found he had neither...it was a diaper explosion!

Somewhere along the lines of me feeling icky last night Hubba Hubba was kind enough to offer to put the Monster mimi's.  I failed to communicate to him that he needed to change him out of his standard diaper into his high performance, ultra absorbent, space derived sleepin pants.  That being said, the midget was ill-equipped for the night.  He consumes more liquid than a camel in the course of a day and no ordinary pants will do.  He'll shoot those right out of the water and that is precisely what he did.  He peed so much that this diaper didn't stand a chance.  It literally exploded.  And for those of you who haven't had the pleasure of experiencing an exploded disposable, the manufacturer of these diapers has found that inserting minuscule gel beads into the pants is the best assurance for absorption.  So when said pants hit their maximum capacity load this is what you get...gel beads ALL over the place.  It's actually pretty gross considering they are sticky and urine soaked and attach themselves to everything in the near vicinity.  Not only is there gel everywhere but the poor guy was laying down for so long that the pee had a chance to work its way both up and down the totem pole entirely drenching his jams clear up to his COLLAR!  Never in my life have I seen a kid more enveloped in his own excess.  How on earth he slept 11 hours in that state of affairs I will never know.  This is nothing short of a miracle.

So now I am faced with the question of "What did the cloth diaper families of yore do with their camels?"  Wrap an afghan around their asses each night and hope for the best?  How on earth did they survive having to do a wash every morning cuz the kid saturated yet another outfit, another bed sheet and another blanket?  Perhaps this is when daily bathing became vogue.  I can see why.  I surely couldn't stand to smell of a pee soaked kid all day long.  It's one of those days that I stand in appreciation all the more of my mom and the hurdles she had when we were babies and thank my heavenly stars for the kind folks at Huggie's for finding an easier, more sanitary way!  Bravo!!!

MOON DOUGH BLOWS!!!

I just need to put out my public service announcement about Moon Dough...this is a product that my princess saw on a commercial and just HAD to have.  This was the one thing she asked for from Santa.  Each and every time someone asked her what she wanted for Christmas she replied emphatically "Mooooon Dough!"  When they inquired as to what the hell Moon Dough was she would sweetly explain, "It's a kind of proof Play-dough that NEVER dries out!"  She would beam with delight and visions of this one day becoming hers. 

So the day came...Moon Dough was hers.  She was ecstatic.  She was overjoyed.  She could not WAIT to embark on a Moon Dough Adventure.  I was excited as well.  Who doesn't love to get something they truly long for?  Who doesn't love to see their kid so happy?  And for $15 I thought, this will be worth every penny.  Never did I dream that the contents within would come to be the bane of my existence. 

The creator of this product obviously hated their parents (or perhaps they hate kids).  This is the only logical explanation for this hellacious product ever hitting the toy shelves.  This is some vengeful plot that goes back to the inventors' childhood.  This revenge is deep, harsh and undying.  I think this person has fully achieved the desired goal to make both parent AND child miserable.  The child is miserable because she joneses for the Moon Dough morning, noon and night.  The parent is miserable because he has to choose whether to make the child happy and allow play to occur knowing full well the disastrous state the play area will be left in or to hear the child cry and whine for the allowance.  How could one little product bring so much hate and discontent?  The evident beauty of this product is that it never dries out...this is also its grief.  It is the consistency of light fluffy snow.  Cotton candy, if you will.  Push on it hard enough and it will form a ball.  But if you push too hard it disintegrates into dandruff flakes on the floor.  Knowing the dexterity of toddler/preschool aged children, you should know that "gentle" is a relative term.  I think they know WHAT it means but they just don't know how to make it happen.  Therefore, every attempt they make to form anything turns into a disaster.  It gets on their clothes, toes, shoes, HAIR and is subsequently dragged throughout the house where it sets up shop in the carpet.  Little tiny specks of colored kernerballs everywhere.  Truthfully it looks like a bomb has gone off in whatever room they are playing with it.  I have half a mind to write the company and share this blog with them so they know the smear campaign that I am embarking on.  My goal here is to notify as many parents/people as possible of what a colossal waste of money and spend of sanity this particular item is.  Had I done some reading prior to purchase I would have found many parents bellowing the same sob story.  You would think that the creator of this would have, at the very least, had a focus group of parents on tap trying this thing out before they started selling it.  Instead they just marketed this shit out of it and hoped for the best.  Unless you are willing to let your kids play with this crap outside I would highly suggest against the purchase.  Now I am faced with how to get it out of my house without notice.  As mentioned, this was the one and only gift from Santa.  <Head hanging low and shaking vigorously> 

Perhaps I should have read into the name a little deeper...Moon Dough--the shit that sends you to the Moon in fury and and has you crying "Dough!" (to the tune of Homer Simpson) each time it is used.  Looks like the makers of this nightmare are getting the last laugh...but thankfully I have the Internet and can disseminate my ire amongst friends.  Thanks for reading the PSA...

The other side of the bed

Last Thursday I was witness to a miracle.  Before I go any further I need to thank the new parents for even allowing me to be a part of such a special, personal life moment.  A birth is such an insanely private event that to be welcomed into the situation is nothing short of very possibly the biggest honor of my life.  Thank you so much for sharing this moment with me!

Oddly, being that I have 2 children, I had never before seen a baby born.  Not on TV, not in an informational sex education video and certainly not in real life.  I had successfully eluded that visual for 34 years.  Even reading about births scared the living bejeezus out of me so I steered clear of that until after I actually had one labor under my belt.  I didn't want "the mirror" in the delivery room to see what was going on.  I thought I might pass out mid-evacuation.  And they kept asking me if I wanted to "feel" for the baby before he/she actually came out...umm...NO thank you...I'll pass.  To be honest, the whole thing kinda freaks me out.  I know, it's my body, my baby, all my stuff but my answer is still "Icky."  Short story long, I am a WUSS!  So I was a little nervous about being on the other side of the bed for this rodeo...a place where I didn't know what to do, didn't know how to act, had no real "job" except for being the cheerleader and I was in virtually no pain.  WEIRD!  But oh sooo amazing.  To hold the hand, cheer the breath, (I'll admit I "pushed" each time she did--guess it made me feel like I was helping in some way although truthfully it probably just irritated Mama T) was like nothing I had ever imagined.  To stand in virtual helplessness while my love went through this strenuous milestone was also WAY more difficult than I had anticipated.  But it was also way more calming than I had anticipated as well.  To be anywhere but by her side for this would have truly been an act of futility.  Even being down the hall would have been a gut-wrenching, hair-pulling nightmare for me.  So I much preferred this seat to any other.

This side of the bed also gave me a new-found respect for the dad's in these shoes.  Holy shit would that be stressful.  Prior to this I just viewed the dad as a spectator.  A co-conspirator in the creation but really just another cheerleader and supportive hand in the end.  I now see the other side.  There in that room lies the woman you love, the baby you will come to adore more than life itself and very possibly the biggest ordeal either of them have endured to date.  It doesn't matter if the doctor delivering has seen 15,872 babies come down the shoot, somehow THIS is different.  There is no margin for error, no time for thought, no sitting on the fence.  The doctor will make good decisions and he will make them now.  If he doesn't make them now Papa Bear will question the shit out of him until he is pleased with the answer and feels better about the situation.  He's got a little lady in the bed who is none too sure about what is to happen next and he is in charge of settling those fears...if not for her, for himself.  There are freaky words like "forceps, vacuum, C-Section, surgery" being used...there is no option to bring anything other than the A-Game into the room.  As truthfully, this is all he has.  Our boys really have very little control over what is going on.  They can't stop the pain, they can't make many decisions and they can't help to "push" so they really stand as advocates which must be VERY difficult since most guys aren't big fans of this role of non-doer.  I guess before this I was just so wrapped up in being in labor that I didn't have time, energy or emotional capacity to acknowledge this "man" role.  I thought I was doing all the work.  I was the one who had to emit 9 pounds of human being from my body, what did he have to worry about?  Turns out, quite a lot.  Feeling a little "Papa-Bearish" myself, I can now appreciate why some men pass out.  When I'd see a guy go down on TV, I'd always think, "You pansy!" but the severity and the colossal implications of it all lend a bit of wiggle room now.  At no point did I think I was going to pass out...but I can now see how someone could get that worked up.  These are no small potatoes.  I can also cut the Hubba a little slack (albeit 2 years later) that it was a stressful time for him too.  The fact that I didn't see this until now further clarifies how self-absorbed I am and how unwilling I was to see anyone else but ME.  Shocking, I know :) Oh the work I still have to do!  And I digress...

Seeing "life" from this bird's eye view perspective was such an experience.  Not at all how I had envisioned it but then really, what ever is?  I've come to realize that regardless of the screen play I put together in my mind that life somehow shows me just how wrong I have it and usually creates a better version for me to experience.  Even if it's not better, at least it's real.  Watching a new born baby squeeze her way into the world was like nothing I have ever seen.  And I just sat in marvel at how all that baby fit inside my tiny gal.  And then marveled some more at all of the amazing things the first hours of life brings...1st breath of fresh air, 1st self induced meal, 1st look at the world!  Thank God they are virtually blind at that point or it would all just be too much.  No wonder they sleep all the time...well, some of them. 

All this to say is I am SO glad that I followed my gut and drove up North when I did.  I was planning on waiting until Hubba Hubba got home from work at 2:30...baby girl graced us with her presence at 2:58...WHEW!  Thank God for women's intuition...and thank God even more for amazing nieces who fly in to the rescue at a moment's notice to hang with the previously birthed miniatures.  Everything worked out as though it was a well-orchestrated plan.  And I suppose it was...it just wasn't MY plan :)  WHAT a day.  To see life make its way into the world, to see love fill a room in an instant and to feel completely insignificant amidst it all was nothing short of fantastical.  I have yet to find another experience that brought on such emotion in one fail swoop...stress, anticipation, anxiety, fear, pain, exhaustion, exuberance, love, accomplishment, relief and miraculousness all in one.  What other life experience delivers all of this in such a short amount of time?  None that I know of.  Reminded me that life truly is a gift!

And I sat in joy and appreciation that I was able to be a part of it all.  To see that baby girl take her first breath.  To feel an instant connection and undying love for her--almost at the level that I felt for my own kids--was truly unparalleled.  It was a day for the record books.  One that I will remember with fondness and magic for the rest of my life.

Pie anyone?

I’ve never really considered myself an “eye for an eye” kind of gal…perhaps I was wrong.

Last night while running the bath for the kids the 3YOG was running around naked, excited and just generally pleased to be getting a bath (perhaps I should bathe them more than once a week—KIDDING!)  So when the mini’s get excited there is no choice but to generate some juice from the pooch as well.  I guess he believes somewhere in there might be something fun for him too.  If nothing else, he gets to see his little peeps leap and he wants to be in the mix for all such occasions. 

The streaker finally settled back in the bathroom waiting patiently for the water to fill, hands on the side of the tub, jumping up and down.  The dog followed.  Now he couldn’t possibly give the allotted amount of personal space required of this situation.  He had to come in and stand RIGHT behind her…operative word in this story is “behind”…so this is where my revenge comes in…

The femme notices the pooch’s presence at her rumpus and proceeds to sit on his back and swoosh back and forth as though he was some sort of Canine Caboose Cleaner…a use for a dog, that prior to yesterday, I had not considered.  Oddly, he just stood there taking it.  Hubba Hubba and I laughed with hysterics as the mini showed no signs of stopping and seemed to be having a great time.  The dog simply looked annoyed and a bit miffed but he was getting some attention (albeit an ass-wash)…he wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.  I wanted to chime in and say something as “The Mother”…this was inappropriate behavior, was it not?  And isn’t that what I am in charge of around here?  Thwarting inappropriate behavior?  Ruining all good times especially when heavily cloaked in toilet-humor?  I could have SWORN that was in the job description.  I certainly know MY mom was in charge of that.  So, really, I should say something...

I am milliseconds away from ending this exfoliation escapade when it hit me…this is payback!  This is retribution.  This is direct and comparable vindication for every single time the dog has come in from the great outdoors, only to rush down the stairs, do a few victory laps around the basement and proceed to wipe his hiney on my carpet as though it is just a large slice of toilet tissue!  (Not sure if anything he does makes me angrier or more disgusted—aside from the barfing of course.)  But this was the perfect act of reciprocity in my eyes.  I don’t think the two will correlate in dog-speak but it made me feel a whole lot better about the situation.  Now don’t think that the next time he stops, drops and wipes I am going to be hailing over him with a midget looking for my immediate gratification but this was just a small slice in the pie I like to call “Sweet Satisfaction.”  A tick mark in the “Mom” column in the game of Dog vs. Human, if you will.  Rarely am I awarded these triumphs and today I sit, basking in the glory!  Hope you have the opportunity to “bask” today as well!

Penance...

Boy oh boy did I pay off some sins on Sunday!  I didn't realize I still had so many to amend but clearly I do.  After a long morning of Christmas shopping I came home with The Missy and embarked on an outdoor play date with her and her brother only to find that I brought home a lot more than just Christmas presents from the store...

I didn't feel quite well but I also didn't feel like hell...yet.  When dinner time came around I was getting there.  The Hubba was convinced that since I hadn't eaten since morning and that 75% of my meal was consumed by the beggars I was just REALLY hungry.  I liked that idea.  So I was hoping that eating dinner would be music to my tummy's ears.  It was not.  In 2 hours time I was curled up in the fetal position on my son's bedroom floor.  Bedtime Bonanza had to be turned over to the Man of the House as I was in no shape for such.  I thought if I supervised from the 6x3 space of carpet I was populating that would be good enough.  I think The Man thought I was exaggerating when I told him I felt so bad and he abruptly said, "Well, if it's this bad you should just go to bed!"...at 6:30.  So I heeded his word and did just that, thinking that a good night's sleep would whisk this away.  O contraire, mon frere.  I laid in bed groaning for awhile and the little lass jumped in to check on me.  Said "Mommy, why do you look like this?" and I explained that I didn't feel well.  She peeps, "Oh that's ok.  You'll feel better after you sleep."  Sound advice coming from a kid who sleeps 45 minutes in any given 24 hour period, but whatever.  She then sheepishly leaves the room to retire herself and like a ton of bricks it hit me.  Oh no! 

Hubby came downstairs after the "good nights" and admitted, he too was not feeling so hot.  Being that I had already "lost it" once and didn't find it necessary to share with my husband every single last secret I have, I decided to sleep upstairs.  I had also hoped that he was merely having sympathy pains for me and didn't really have the bug.  (Denial is a true friend of mine.)  And if Hubba was just suffering from sympathy pains I was not about to put the nail in the coffin and breath on him all night long.  Clearly what I had picked up at the store was an adult-sized, heaping spoonful of shit and "sharing" this is not really the Christmas spirit I am all about.  Turns out, I share and I share well...holidays or not I like to give to my brethren.  We were both miserable all night.  Aching, sweating, tossing, turning...and well, you know the rest.  At one point, whimpering on the bathroom floor, I actually made "The God-barter"...you know the one...similar to the one you make when you are suffering from a hugely obscene hangover and you bargain that if He just makes it go away you PROMISE never to drink again.  But this scene involved no alcohol...just the begging!  And for some reason I had a distinct feeling that this had to be punishment as both my husband and I got it at the same time.  I don't know many better forms of torture than to have 2 grown adults rushing to the bathroom every 5 minutes while trying to care for 2 small children.  If this is not penance it certainly resembles it!

On the plus side, being that my body felt like a freight train had been running routes in it all night long and I could hardly stand up straight from the muscle contractions I made a wise choice to take a swim in our hot tub.  At about 4:30am I decided to throw in the towel because I obviously was not going to be able to sleep and went outside for a minuscule moment of relaxation.  It was a nice, cool morning and completely clear.  Not a cloud or even the slightest sighting of the moon--DARK!  Stars all around, I looked up and realized it had been eons since I had seen a shooting star.  Couldn't remember the last time.  Because really, when was the last time I had truly taken the opportunity to just gaze up without thoughts of children, taxes, groceries or laundry.  I was so sick the only thing on my mind was the present...totally incapable of thinking of anything else.  Lost in my misery, gazing up above, what did I see?  None other than a shooting star!  I was so amazed that I asked for something and received it immediately.  Had it been December 24th, I would insist to you that Santa gave it to me.  Then not 2 minutes later I received another gift--another shooting star!  I was astonished.  Double the pleasure.  Getting double what you want?  When does this happen?  And the only answer I could find was "always."  Just gotta be paying attention.  It reminded me of the time in 6th grade when my mom and I got into an early morning fight before shcool.  She ended the argument with "Fine!  Then you can just take your bike to school!"  Psha--GREAT--Fine is right!  My whole trip riding to school I was writhing with anger and reciting "Please God, let me get hit by a car."  (I know, dramatic, right? Hey, I was going to Catholic school at the time. Who else was I supposed to talk to?)  And this was my plea because in my mind if I were to get hit by said vehicle oh how bad my mom would have felt about the argument and the decision to make me ride my bike to school.  Much to my chagrin, no vehicular encounter.  Went along with my happy day.  Got to school and forgot all about the fight, the plea, everything.  Riding home that afternoon SMASH!  Got hit by a van.  No injury aside from a pair of torn Keds but holy shit did that get my attention.  My 1st real brush with the Big Man and one that should have scared me right into the convent.  The lesson I learned from that was heavily laden...Pray carefully!  It was also proof that we often do get what we wish for--but we have to keep our eyes open.  Sometimes it's big (getting hit by a car) and sometimes it's small (a falling star).  It was just a sweet little reminder for me that I have everything I could ever need and want--and THEN some!  Funny how the little things can get me right out of that pity party and right into "What a wonderful life!"...even when I AM serving a penance ;)  Thanks for reading my woes :)

Are you STILL here?

I'm sure I am not the majority here because I don't think most people have the honor and privilege of getting to stay at home to care for their kids and therefore, don't really have the time to get sick of them, but don't some of you ever just look at them and wonder "Are you STILL here?"  I am ashamed to admit that these words have trickled through my mind...and more frequently in the past few weeks now that I think about it.  But I will admit these things at the risk of sounding callous, ungrateful and downright mean in hopes that my words will make another human being feel not so much like an a$$hole for thinking the same...

I envisioned putting up the Christmas tree with my kids to be this magical day filled with love, wonderment and joy.  Instead it was a day filled with me playing defense and being completely frustrated while trying desperately to hide the frustration so as not to "ruin the memory" for my kids.  Truth be known, I am sure neither one of them will remember a lick of the experience but in my mind they might.  And if their memory is anything like mine, only the "shit" will stick...most of the good stuff slides right out the other side.  So here we are.  The Ox broke 4 ornaments within 2 hours time.  And he couldn't have broken the stupid glass balls that were purchased at a bulk rate on the clearance aisle.  He HAD to break the sentimental ones that actually meant something and held reminiscent flare.  He would walk up to the tree as to throw it a high 5...across the room the ornament would go and crash to the ground.  The gal broke nothing and was gentle and delicate with each little piece.  Granted she hung all 320 ornaments in one spot on the tree, but she did so with great care, pride and adoration.  At the placement of each she would say "Look!  How beee-tiful!"  This pissed her brother off to no end so he would just try to knock 'em out of the park.  I estimate it took me twice as long this year to adorn the tree as it did last year.  All the while I just wanted to stash the Moose in his room or outside or in a meat locker.  All of which are surely frowned upon by the National Academy of Child Development.  And speaking of locking, ironically, earlier that morning after my departure Hubba Hubba was all alone with the kiddos and encountered a slight mishap.  Whilst he was making some adjustments to the females bedroom door to make it shut with ease there was a backfire in the previous parental move of flipping the door knob around and putting the locking mechanism on the outside.  Evidently much delight was taken by the midgets knowing they had a hand in locking daddy in the bedroom.  He was NONE too pleased with the arrangement and apparently there were some colorful statements bellowed from the other side!  To say he was livid is an understatement.  When I asked him what finally convinced her to unlock the door he stated "Nothing!  I had to take the damn thing off the hinges!"  I guess the silver lining of that was that he had the wherewithal to fashion some tools out of the princess toy box and emancipate himself.  He would never have outlived the litany of jokes had he not escaped on his own volition.  Thankfully for him he is one savvy man!  Needless to say, when he broke free they were both still there...

It's just that we're NEVER alone.  And I don't want to be alone much...but sometimes would be nice.  Maybe just once a day.  We eat together, shower together and God forbid one of us has to go to the bathroom...there's at least one audience member if not both.  The boy enjoys sticking his head between the hubby's legs while he goes...the girl used to do the same.  Then one day she tried to "grab the yellow rain" and that put a quick kibosh on that accompaniment.  I realize at this age they are sponges and need this contact.  All I am saying is there are times...

Yesterday the "why's" were so incessant I could hardly stand it.  I felt like the Ragin' Cajun...you know the guy from CNN's Crossfire?  I could hardly get my answers out to the first "why" when its partner "but why" came to follow.  Hubba Hubba laughed from the other room while smoke streamed from my ears.  At which point, I almost uttered "ARE you still here?" but refrained.   

And for the past 5 nights the female has decided that she will again grace us with her presence shortly after lights out.  This is all new so I am still trying to figure out how to handle it.  The 1st night I was just in that beginning stage of REM sleep and Hubba leaned over to tell her to go to bed.  I must have launched 3 feet in the air from shock and fear.  There's just something about a 3 foot human standing at the side of the bed against the pitch darkness...whispering.  The silhouette of it all is enough to just send me through the rafters.  My mind immediately goes to "The Exorcist" and suddenly my daughter is Linda Blair speaking Latin, crawling upside down and spinning her head 360 degrees.  I realize I reference "The Exorcist" frequently in my cyber rants but I contend that it is the single freakiest movie ever put to film and every child has this potential after seeing it.  Didn't sleep for 3 days after the 1st viewing.  Just sick.  And it doesn't help that The Moose, in his very early, highly communicative state has taken to demanding objects by way of yelling "Dimi!!!" (translation--Gimme!)  So he repeats "Dimi! Dimi!" over and over and I am again taken to the damn movie and the young priest's mom is crying "Dimi! Dimi! Why you do it Dimi?"   I'm seriously on the verge of issuing time outs for this "offense."  He is being rude so I am not totally out of line here but truth be known I would more want to "put him away" because he scares the hell out of me when he says this than actually being angry. And I digress...

So back to Senorita Sassy Pants...seems as though after about an hour in her room, reading by nightlight, she gets bored.  She ventures down the stairs like a bull in a china shop and then loiters at our door for a spell.  She finally makes her way through the door--closer to our bed--where she proceeds to sigh loudly, huff or "accidentally" kick something.  The first couple nights, post-sigh/huff/kick I would inquire "MYA! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"  She would reply, "Oh, Hi Mommy!" (as though we were just  meeting for the first time and this is totally normal.)  Then she proceeds to recite this lavish story about how she'd had a bad dream and was scared and needed a kiss.  She is still not onto the fact that we have a monitor downstairs and can hear, loud and clear, all 183 chorus's of "Police Navidad" over the waves, knowing full well she has yet to fall asleep.  I call her on her shenanigans and her shoulders drop in defeat.  She says, "Fine!  I will just go to bed then."  Other nights I have feigned sleep just to see what would happen.  Could she simply just go away on her own?  Tonight she hovered with her audible antics for about 5 minutes, realized she was getting nowhere, gave me a kiss on the arm and then scurried back upstairs-my plan worked!  Believe me, I am fully aware that just because it worked once doesn't mean I won't be asking her tomorrow "Are you still HERE!?"

But at the end of the day I ADORE my kids.  Wouldn't trade them for the world.  Couldn't be more grateful that they are healthy, happy human doings...Lord knows they aren't "be"ings.  There are times, sometimes every hour, but times where I want to hop a plane to Mexico and call it a day but you know I never would.  I mean, what would life be like if my Ox wasn't puking on the Christmas tree skirt?  It would be boring.  It wouldn't be my life, that's for sure.  Who needs sleep anyway?  Entirely overrated!  Privacy?  Should have known upon delivery that I would never sniff an ounce of that again.  Sanity?  HA!  I wasn't sane before so I might as well celebrate it in grand fashion.  Crazy is en vogue, right?  If it was, I would be working it on the cat walk in Milan right now!  Instead I am sitting in my "nice sweats" reflecting on who I was vs. who I am.  Change is good and truth be known I wouldn't change my life for all the money in the world.  I will go to bed and simply pray that when I wake up and say "Are you still here?" they will reply "With f#@!ing bells on, lady!"

Oh My DOG!

I feel sort of bad.  I have neglected to introduce you to my "1st born" and it's led me to a pang of guilt.  He is truly the biggest baby in our family and the one that got us primed for parenthood.  He deserves his due.  I suppose he has been an oversight because I believe most of you have met him.  This leaves little to the imagination as nothing I will say will come as a surprise after you have had the pleasure.  I have also come to notice that I rarely have anything nice to say about him anymore.  He has unfortunately become a pain in my a$$ who just seems to know precisely when to wreak havoc and tears shit up just when I think things couldn't get any worse.  He is, of course, The Titin Dog. (pronounced titan)

I realize that the allowance of the dog to commit any of the bad deeds he is accused of is completely left in my lap but I still choose to see him as a kid in a dog suit.  He is not a true dog.  He is a person.  Just ask him.  He tries to sit at the table with us.  He lays on the couch.  He sleeps in our bed...under the covers...with a pillow under his head.  This is no true canine.  He has never really been "normal" as most people are quick to point out.  We got him as a baby boy and I immediately took him to work with me at the rock quarry.  For 3 years he accompanied me to my job.  He was more of an employee than I was and truth be known, I believe he is missed more than I am, as well.  He took his job seriously.  Took pride in it.  Like the greeter at WalMart, he knew it like the back of his hand.  This is where it was first discovered that he was simply a human in a dog suit. 

It would rain, he would sit at the door and wait for someone to carry him to the car.  If my hands were full, my co-worker Gregg was all too happy to oblige as he was NOT about to walk out there in that slosh, get wet and get his "suit" all muddy and cold.  He would sit there with his super sad dog face, shivering as though just dipped in an ice pond and wait for an unsuspecting sucker to escort him. 
He sat in my office chair with me, snuggled in right behind my butt in my jacket.  It looked like I had a tumor growing out of my back as he would only poke his head out from under my coat if someone was there to pet him.  I don't think he believed people showed up for stone.  He believed they were there to see him.  I will never forget when we were wooing a big government job and the head peeps were out at the quarry for the Q&A and taking pictures.  We were all on our best behaviour and the meeting had gone quite well.  They had been there for about 2 hours and were just about to leave...just a few more photos.  Low and behold Titin comes flying across the yard, jumps front and center of the camera toting none other than a deer leg between his teeth (a neighboring individual was evidently a butcher of wild game who was none too concerned with the secondary parts).  So there is Titin flaunting this blood-stained leg (which was about as long as he was) and just begging to be recognized.  I truly thought I was going to die.  I was mortified.  Talk about a blown first impression.  Luckily these guys had a sense of humor and saw the little runt as comical.  Needless to say the Day of the Leg become lore at the quarry and we even kept his trophy around for a spell.  I think he truly wanted people to believe that he had, in fact, scored that kill and was living to tell about it...if not brag!

His laundry list of misdeeds is quite exhaustive (as am I!) but I will share some of the noteworthy fodder...As my Mr. Mini has, Titin has found "flavor" in some unsavory items over the years.  Most notable would be 2 whole outdoor couches.  I didn't think a puppy could actually consume ONE couch much less two!  I must say for the record that the squirrels started it but he was more than happy to join in the reindeer games.  I wish I would have photographed what these items looked like when he got done with them as I think you would agree they were no where NEAR recognizable as previous pieces of furniture.  Then there were the birth control pills.  Little bastard was rootin through my work bag and decided that those looked like fair game.  Called the vet to make sure he wasn't going to explode or anything and their only response was, "Well, at least we know he won't get pregnant!"  AWESOME!  He has also ingested innumerable mouse carcasses, cat turds (which I discovered by him licking my face--gross!!!), an entire bag of freshly purchased Costco dried fruit large enough to feed an army, shoes by the heap, things from the trash that I won't mention out loud but will leave to your imagination as my husband would remind me, "Nobody wants to hear about THAT!", diapers, socks, peach pits, whole boxes of cereal, crackers and cookies...you know, standard dog fare.  The list truly goes on.

And finally there are his "tics."  I suppose most dogs have these but Titin's neurosis is second to none.  He still chases his tail in hopes of catching it.  I thought only puppies did this...he is now 6 and still working on it.  Has caught it a couple of times and then looks confused as to what to do with it. **He is also not the smartest dog I've ever seen**  He also has a habit of carrying things in his mouth so he can "talk" to you.  At work it was his chain, at home it's whatever he can find.  But he can't talk unless he has something in his mouth?  Weirdo!  And this one kills me every time...when he sneezes he does so in such a boisterous, violent fashion that he bashes his face into the ground.  One would think after the first few times he would catch on and stop beating the shit out of himself but again, 6 years old and still going strong.  One day at the quarry he got into a cactus patch.  The dog literally sneezed no less than 84 times, one right after the other.  I had never seen anything like it or since.  Neither had my customers.  We laughed so hard I almost peed myself.  Again, the hysterics displayed when he releases are so dramatic that it was almost impossible for me to move to help him because of the constant onslaught.  If only I'd had a video camera--I'd be writing this from Lanai instead of Longmont...

The thing about this dog is he looks ferocious.  Like he could just rip the jugular right out of a guy.  When in actuality he is the biggest pansy dog that ever walked.  Nothing phases him.  I don't think I have ever seen him mad.  My cousins dog seriously tried to hump him for 6 hours straight and Titin just allowed it.  Had a little girl at the quarry walk right up to him and swipe the bone he was chewing directly out of his mouth and he responded by licking her.  My son attempts to ride him on the regular, pulls his tail while he is eating, as well as gets on his hands and knees to join him and the dog just wags.  I swear if someone broke into our house he would usher them from room to room in exchange for some love.  He is the biggest love whore I have ever known and he has NO shame in this game. 

So while I constantly complain about what a nightmare this dog is, I also don't know what I would do without him.  He comes to snuggle me and then almost instantly pukes 6 inches from my head--yes, I want to kill him.  The thought, at that moment, sounds oh so nice.  But I'd never do it.  He puts on his sad dog face, waggle bottom deluxe and crawls into my lap as though he's been invited and I just can't bring myself to kill him.  I will continue to accept the fact that he is in costume 24-7 and truly just trying to take the title in being "The One" that sends me to the loony bin.  He is, at present, sharing the chair with me.  Some things about him will never change...nor would I want them to!


Have a seat!



Cat Nap...



Canine Comedy...



Titin the Pig-Nosed Reindeer



Girl's Gone WILD!

I just needed to say out loud that the past 24 hours are ones I don't wish to duplicate anytime soon.  I am sure they will resurface.  Check that...I KNOW they will resurface.  They will probably be 10 times more dramatic than what I just experienced.  This is a fact that I have learned to accept and embrace.  But not the long, romantic "embrace" you might be thinking.  More like the "Please stop touching me" hug that you are entitled to give certain individuals in your life.  You know the one.

So I just get done spouting off about what a sweet little angel I have in a gal and I shit you not, someone swooped in and snatched that right out of her.  Stole it for their own.  It must have been one of the people in the grocery swooning over her princess costume.  And then I start to wonder...has there been any research conducted on female offspring and their mother's going through the "grumpies" together during that beloved segment of each moon?  I would be willing to fork over some tax dollars to that kind of study.  I have a hypothesis of my own.  At least I would have something to blame her psychosis on and not feel like such a failure of a mom. 

I just don't see how she could go from this happy, cooperative, sweet, loving little being to a total train wreck in the course of a day.  She woke up pissed off on Monday that she couldn't have a milkshake for breakfast!  My first thought was, "What the hell are you smoking?"  Note this was only a "thought," not something I actually uttered.  She literally cried for 30 minutes about this.  That must have been one hell of a milkshake dream that she had awoken from.  Then we got home from pre-school and it was just down hill from there.  It was as though she had lost her mind somewhere along the way.  "No" was the answer to everything.  When bedtime came I thought fire might come from her eyes.  She was so adamant that she not go to bed and so resistant to walking upstairs that the litany started.  Running room to room hoping to dodge the bullet.  Meanwhile I am taking away items like it was a yard sale.  This just pissed her off and made her more certain that she was NOT going to bed. 

Once I got her upstairs the pajama shenanigans ensued.  Legs and lungs a-flying!  At one point I got a size 9 right to the chin and decided something else had to go.  I requisitioned "her love" (a sweet necklace her cousin Krystal gave her to symbolize their love so she could have it with her all the time--her true FAVE) she LOST it.  I thought certainly removing this special token would get her to realize just how serious I was.  It did nothing of the sort.  Then she started offering things for me to take!  "Here, take my glow stick, take my dress."  Really?  No one wants yard sale items pushed on them.  They want to find them like a needle in a haystack.  They want to come upon the item so unsuspecting and take it to the front only to have the seller say "OH NO!  Not that.  How did THAT get out here?  It's not for sale."  She was saying no such thing.  I'm thinking she is working Jedi mind tricks on me.  I am just desperate to get her teeth brushed and get her to sleep as this is clearly the issue--exhaustion, right?  So I somehow get the toothbrush in her mouth, all the while she is foaming, screaming and saying "None teeth brushed!"  I trek on.  I wasn't sure if I might lose a digit in the process with this feisty pit bull but I was willing to take a chance.  Finally, the necessities are complete and I go to walk out thinking she just wants/needs some time alone.  Walking out sends her reeling even more so.  Now I am worried that she is going to wake the midgetier midget and then I will REALLY lose it.  So I enter again, saying "Ok, what do I need to take now?" to which she replies "NOTHING!"  I swear I heard a hint of Linda Blair in her voice.  Possession would make sense at this point.  Call in the priest.  But on she carries with the wailing so I remove her nightlight which I am thinking may, in fact, be an issue.  Read a study on how the presence of dull light in a room of sleep leads to depression.  The study didn't mention schizophrenia.  When I took her "book reading light" she about popped a gasket.  Then I went downstairs to leave her to her devices.  She exited her room and I could her the pitter pat of tiny feet up above.  I scurried up the stairs to see what was going on and she ran back to her room.  Stood at the door for about 3 minutes as I knew she would be coming out again soon.  All the while she is talking to herself in code and I am sure wishing horrific things on me.  Finally, she came out.  Finding me in her threshold she meekly and quietly says "Hi mommy."  MJ is that YOU?  Are you back?  Have the demons released you?  I almost hugged her but thought better of it. This may be yet another trap.  She simply said "I can't find silky (her beloved blanket).  She's no where to be found. Can you help me?" to which I reply "Ummm, sure. [then decided I should insert my bargaining chip here] If I find silky will you lay down and go to sleep?" and she says "Oh yes mommy I will go right to sleep.  No more fits or crying or naughty."  So the blanket was retrieved and the night was over.  Whew--this kid exhausts me.

So I am thinking after a good night's sleep she will wake up a new kid and we will have a new day...orrrr we can just pick up where we left off from last night.  Went to return a switch to Office Maxx and decided this wasn't really a cart-worthy situation.  5 minutes tops.  Well, the kid behind the counter wasn't so adept in her item return skills and my littles were onto that like flies on shattner.  They quickly saw the aisles of the office store looking like laps of NASCAR and took to running.  I kept giving the Office girl my desperation face of "Hurry or they may break something expensive!" and she was soo not feeling it.  I tried voice commands to no avail.  I can't really blame the Mr...he is just along for the ride.  He just goes along with what his sister is doing.  And each time I called her back she would stop, look at me, smile her devilish grin and continue, knowing full well that my hands were tied and there would be no issue until my transaction was complete.  I was so infuriated that I couldn't even see straight.  Cross-eyed with anger the cashier finally finished her business and sent me on my way.  I then headed to retrieve my herd.  Upon seeing my release the elder darted.  She took her "laps" to new avenues.  Could the aisle BE any longer?  I think not.  She ran all the way to the back of the store and the little man was not much further behind.  I was trying not to sprint and give the other customers cause for concern.  Don't know why I actually cared what they thought of my horrible parenting abilities but I wanted to keep the urgency to myself. Finally caught Senorita Disaster Child and gave her a stern talking to...she laughed!  This is NOT my daughter, I thought.  She took off again...she went one way he went the other...he's catching on quick to this little game.  I had copies to make so I figured I'd let them run while I did that.  Perhaps exercise is what they were needing.  But alas, it came time to leave and the bi-directional scamper continued.  I finally chased down the smaller of the two, picked him up (legs kicking all the while) and then proceeded to give the female a chance to leave the store with dignity.  She scoffed at my request so I just said "Ok see ya later.  We're leaving."  Walked away and never looked back.  Oddly she wasn't calling me on this one and decided to follow.  I then raged the entire way home about how disappointed I was, what a poor example she was setting for her brother and how they were both going to be spending some time alone when we got home.  She was not impressed.

So we got home and as promised Chase went straight to his crib.  Funny how the doctors suggest 1 minute for each year they are old.  He is 20 months old and I have done the math to incorporate those extra seconds!  Anyway, she goes to her room and begins taking off her store outfit and putting on another.  The Mr. had since been released from prison and was wanting in on the mix.  For no more reason than it felt like the right thing to do at the time she hauled off and kicked him in the chest.  I laughed in disbelief and proceeded to take both the newly requested attire and every single book I have ever purchased her.  For some reason, physical abuse sends me through the rafters.  She then decided she needed some time to be in her room and reset the computer.  She had obviously short-circuited.

The next hour was OK and then I made the mistake of inviting her to shower.  When I turned off the water to get out you would have thought that I had ripped her toe nails out through her nostrils.  She sat in the shower, wet and clothes less for 15 minutes screaming.  I again, laughed in disbelief.  Luckily we were saved by the arrival of her cousins for a bon voyage dinner.  My nephew is moving and we thought we should have a little meal for him.  My niece also joined in the reindeer games and the afternoon was awesome.  The Mr. and Ms. Mini were in heaven, as "cousin time" is always a good time. 

So I am cringing at what today will bring.  As I write this, Ms. came downstairs from her slumber and cuddled in my lap.  She notified me that she thinks I am a "good mom" and she loves me.  NO CLUE where this came from and I really don't care.  At least I have her fooled and she likes me for the time being.  I am just realizing today is the 1st of December and time to hang the much-awaited 1st ornament on the beautiful Advent calendar that Grandma Susan made.  Maybe this is the start of something good?  Hope this month brings the beauty and magic that it should!  Happy December 1st.  Wish me luck...I'm goin' in! :)