The Trip

It came as a bit of a surprise when my dad told me that he and his wife would "see us this weekend."  He lives 1,200 miles away and we weren't expecting him at least until summer.  The kids could not have been more fired up.  "Papa" always seems to bring a smile to their faces.  So it was quite an unfortunate turn when I started getting sick 2 days prior to arrival.  I figured I would kick it quick and all would be good by arrival time.  Boy was I wrong.  They weren't here 24 hours and my voice was completely gone!  I don't just mean a little bit, I mean totally inaudible.  The only thing I could do was whisper.  And that wouldn't have really been a problem except for the fact that my dad can't hear shit!  He is upwards of 70 and working around heavy equipment all of his life has taken a toll on the old man.  Again, normally wouldn't be a problem but the Ox (the original Ox) refuses to wear hearing aids.  I guess somehow it looks "unmanly" to need hearing assistance.  I don't think it has occurred to him to check what a guy looks like yelling "Huh!?" at every utterance issued him but whatever.  So the first day was spent doing just that.  It was a mess.  He would ask me a question, I would try to answer and he would shrug his shoulders and say "I can't understand you!"  A true nightmare for anyone who talks as much as I do.  I don't know how else to communicate.  He hasn't been around for the kids younger months so he hasn't had the opportunity to pick up on the sign language that has been taught in this house so we were at an impasse.  The only way we could communicate was through a translator (his wife, Virginia).  I would whisper to her and she would pass along the message.  I shake my head at the lunacy!  It was a loooong day!  Luckily by giving the old vocal chords a day of rest they seemed to come back around the next day.

This was a good thing because this day was the main event.  The reason for their 1,200 mile trek...The Denver Stockshow.  Virginia's granddaughter came out to show her prize-winning sheep at the show and she and dad came to see the affair.  I thought it would be fun for the female midget to see all the animals and such so we tagged along.  I wasn't expecting anything big.  Just a few heads of livestock, a couple peeps and a corn dog or two...Holy shit did I fall short in my estimations!  It took us 20 minutes just to get in the door.  There were people EVERYWHERE and animals of all shapes and sizes in mass quantity.  I also fell short in my estimation of the gals excitement of said animals.  We weren't in the sheep barn 5 minutes and she was already asking to go home.  It was 11:30AM...the showing didn't start until 5PM!  This kid was in for a rude awakening.  She didn't want to pet anything and didn't even want to hear of visiting the cow barn.  We sat out in front of it for about 10 minutes trying to coax her in to look at them and she was hearing nothing of it.  Dad tried everything.  She dug in her heels.

So we decided to take a walk and see what else the place had to offer.  We came upon the Miniature Mecca!  There was a whole section just for kids.  She found the motherland.  There were games, prizes, exhibits, and train rides.  She even got a chance to use a real loom.  She was too short to reach the peddles but she insisted that she get a turn too.  The lady was nice enough to oblige and force all of the 8+ year olds to wait patiently.  Luckily she didn't even want to sniff a pony ride because the line for that was easily 150 kids deep.  It was insane.  At one point she requested a "treat" which I later came to regret accommodating.  They had huge lollipops about the size of an adult fist in circumference and filled with rainbow swirl color.  She was so smitten with these that she just "had to have one."  I figured with all the hours of waiting we were going to be doing this might be a nice distraction.  She certainly wasn't going to finish the dam thing in the course of the day but it would give her something to work on while she was surrounded by animals that scared the bejeezus out of her.  I told her she could eat it after lunch (which happened to be a corn dog the length of my forearm.)  I still don't get why fair food has to be larger than life.  There were people walking around by the hundreds with these HUGE, I'm talking GIGANTIC turkey legs.  They were just mowing them down.  They must have been good because every other person was carrying one but to see so many carnivorous beasts devouring these barbecued bird legs just kinda made me puke a little.  It was like they had just scored a "kill" and were feasting on what was left of the carcass.  Just a little too "Wild Kingdom" for me and I had to avert my eyes when someone walked by with one cuz I truly thought I might lose my lunch.

Anyway, the child impressively consumes her meal and is panic-stricken for the pop.  Being a mom of my word, I unwrapped it then and there and let her go to town.  With each lick she had a different exclamation..."Mmmm goooood!", "Delicioso!", and "This is fantastical!"  I was applauding my decision to buy the pop.  But then the pop started to become a nuisance.  I picked up the gal and it got stuck to my shirt.  She would bop the pop into my leg and look up with the eyes and say "Oops! Sorry mommy!"  Being as big as it was, the thing was top-heavy and the wrist of this 3-year-old was just not up to par in keeping it steady.  I should have accounted for this later in the day...

We got to the sheep show a bit early so we could actually sit down.  The bleachers were packed with other sheep-peeps.  Parents, enthusiasts, kids and spectators.  We landed a seat at the very top.  Once we got seated the pop was requested again.  Dad pulled it out of the bag and she was back making work of it.  We made small talk with the people around us and the mini was making friends with them all.  They were commenting on her glitter shoes, pink princess cowgirl hat and larger than life lollipop.  She was prancing up and down and holding on to strangers for support.  She looked kinda like a drunken gnome.  Losing her balance, holding on, giggling, and huggin on anyone willing.  She was sitting so sweetly, face full of sugary sin and she suddenly lost her balance...again.  Only this time her beautiful, spit-laden pop ended up in the highly processed hair of the lady in front of us.  There was no brushing this off or acting like it didn't happen.  She fell forward and the sucker STUCK!  I instantly panicked.  I had NO idea what to do so I instinctively reached over and yanked it out of the lady's hair.  As I pulled, my jaw agape in mortification, I noticed that there were plenty of pieces of hair stuck to the pop.  I also noticed the "rainbow of fruit flavors" that colored the back of her head.  I seriously wanted to crawl under a rock and DIE!  I would have happily jumped in the ring to show a sheep sight unseen if I could just get out of this place!  I immediately started apologizing frantically (and so did my gal) and I tried to "fix" her hair to no avail.  She could not have been cooler about it.  She didn't get mad, she didn't say one ill word.  She was a total angel.  At one point I almost started crying.  I felt soo horrible.  She looked at me and said "Oh my gosh honey, your face and chest just turned beet red.  Please, stop!  Don't feel bad."  I could feel "the red" and I was sweating profusely.  I just didn't know how to undo what had been done.  Then I realized I couldn't.  This lady was so amazing about the whole thing.  Mya went about eating her lollipop like it was no big deal--hair and all.  I figured I should go on and do the same. (Don't you love taking life lessons from your kids?)  After all of the apologies were over my sweet girl looks up at me and says with complete nonchalance, "Mommy, don't be angry at me.  It was just an accident!"  That was the nail in the coffin.  She summed it all up in a few short words and she was right.  What would have, at one time in my life, ruined my evening and made me leave the premises was now just "an accident" and something to be forgiven.  I sat in awe that it took me 34 years and a child to figure this out.  It also gave me a flash of understanding that I am not my daughter.  She is her own person and will no doubt make bigger mistakes than dropping a lollipop in someones hair and I am going to have to learn to accept that, deal with that and love her in spite of her screw up's.  Easily said, not sure how easily done.  But this definitely gave me a glimpse at the road ahead of me and the work I will need to do in separating "her" from "us" and by "us" I mean ME!

All in all it was a great trip.  It wouldn't have been a family trip without a little more embarrassment though.  As Dad and Virginia were gathering up their last few items, making their list and checking it twice, shuttling things out to the car for departure, I figured I would help.  It's easier for me to sweep the house with the guest to find things that "don't belong."  So I search the kitchen for road trip food, the laundry room for forgotten clothes and the bathroom for toiletries.  I always seem to forget my shower stuff wherever I go so I make a habit of checking the shower for our guests.  I am running around the top floor willy nilly, throwing doors open right and left.  I run into the bedroom, throw open the bathroom door, only to find my dad atop the porcelain throne!  Talk about turning 15 different shades of red!  I screamed so loud and in such an octave that I startled myself.  In 34 years I have NEVER walked in on the man and now this!  Why God?  WHY!?!?  I really could have gone my WHOLE life without that.  But thanks for the laugh Big Man!  Ugh!

So we gave our hugs and said our "good bye's" and "thank you's."  Dad is snuggling on my gal when he nuzzles to her ear and says "Now it's YOUR turn to come and visit US!"  Her eyes light up and she promises she will!  They aren't gone 10 minutes and this kid is already packing her bags!  I explain to her that we would need to take a plane to California to go see them and that it would be some time before we would be able to do that.  "Some time" to a 3-year-old is obviously arbitrary terminology.  She gets to quick work creating an art piece to take on the plane...she thinks we will be departing that afternoon.  GRRR!  So now I am met with the daily question of, "Is today the day we get on the plane to see Papa?  He said it is our turn.  We have to take our turn, Mommy."  Thank you dad for coming here and planting the seed to grow eternal!  This will be one that will not go away until we are on that plane.  Bravo!  Your work here is done!

Turd Burglar!

I don't know how but it seems like a great many of the shenanigans in this house start with a shower.  Last night was another prime example.  I guess I like showering with the kids because it is a time saver...we all get squeaky clean simultaneous and then I am not forced to go into the Bathtub Wars with them.  It's getting to the point where there is as much water outside the tub as there is in it.  So opting for the shower seems like the easy resolve. 

I say the word "shower" and they both run with freakish speed to the bathroom and start stripping off clothes.  The male mini still isn't outta diapers though he isn't quite 2 yet so I suppose that is normal.  Hubba Hubba was kind enough to assist the venture yesterday and offered to disrobe him.  I'm workin on de-clothing the female, warming the water, preparing the washcloths...

Upon removal of the boy pants Hubba asks the kid if he pooped.  He says "ya" then quickly changes his answer to "no"...this back and forth is not uncommon as he is still working on grasping the English language.  We give little thought to it.  Hubba makes a bold gesture and proceeds with the removal...nothing really to write home about other than the coined phrase of my cousin--a "fart blossom."  In layman's terms, this is nothing more than a colorful addition to the diaper which did not actually leave physical evidence.  Previously known as the "skid mark."  That being said, he gives the boy the all-clear.

Hop into the shower and get all soaked and warm.  The kids are playing with their toys, splashing and such, when I suddenly get a glimpse out of the corner of my eye...NO...it couldn't be...it IS!!!  Almost immediately the other occupants notice what I notice and we all take a half of a step back from "it."  The three of us stood there in awe of this specimen for longer than a moment.  I, all the while, wondering what the hell to do.  I've been told you can pee in a shower but this?  This must be unfounded territory.  I am not willing to succumb to my urge to whoosh it down the drain as it makes me throw up a little in my mouth just considering such.  I am half tempted to yell for the "Customs Agent" who cleared this young fellow fit for showering and tell him he has some work to do on his nether region frisking, noting that we have a turd burglar in our midst and there has been a breech of security in the area of smuggling.  I hold my tongue. 

There is a tangible change of mood in the shower and the female variety starts to panic.  She has searched her mental Rolodex and has in fact positively identified the nugget on the floor.  There is no doubt in her 3 year old mind that she is standing amongst poo and she is NOT pleased.  She is clearly not comforted by the fact that she is surrounded by both water and soap.  This means nothing to her.  There is a niblet in her presence and something needs to be done about it.  I can honestly say I don't blame her as I am still debating a call to Customs and for some reason can't bring myself to touch.  Wipe the kids bottom no less than 3 times a day but somehow this is different.  The boy just looks at it like any boy would.  Minor inconvenience but nothing to get your panties in a bunch over.  Then I realize he may start looking at it like he does most kernerbals on the floor...as food fare.  I decide Customs is out of the question and I am going to have to make a go of it on my own.

I gingerly stepped out, soaking wet, and grabbed the toilet paper.  If you've never grabbed toilet paper while your drenched give it a shot and see how well said paper stays together.  That, in and of itself was a challenge.  But I unrolled a handful and scooped up the excreta for disposal all the while to the tune of the feminine "Ewwwwww! Chase pooped!" 

It was a lovely experience.  Luckily it was a quicker "clean up" than I am used to as previously mentioned we were surrounded by soap and water.  But bringing the story full-circle, I have to say the whole endeavor left me to wondering if I was really being judicious with time as there was now just as much water OUT of the shower as there was in it ever reminding me that as a parent, just when you think you're getting the hang of it and you've got yourself a system, someone tells you the truth!

Acceptance

I'm not sure where this latest phase is coming from but it is one that has made me chuckle on more than one occasion.  The female mini has taken to saying that she is willing to "accept" certain things.  These "certain things" are as follows:

On Christmas morning we gifted our children with a Little Tykes Bounce House.  The Hubba and I discussed what "big" gift we should bestow upon our mini's and he was emphatic about the bounce house.  He saw it in the Toy's R Us circular about 2 months prior to the big day and he just HAD to get it for them.  Being that it requires them to actually get off of their rumps and DO something I was game.  Especially since winter in Colorado with small kids who are sensitive to cold seems to be the never ending season of doom where at the end I would like nothing more than to shave my head and freak out like Britney Spears did.  The phrase "cabin fever" takes on a whole new meaning for me and anything involving an expenditure of pent up energy for the wee ones is certainly a great idea in my book.  That coupled with the fact that my daughter is a bounce house junkie made this all the merrier of an idea.  So, Christmas morning we inflated the monster and led the kids downstairs for the unveiling.  At first the gal was a bit scared.  She didn't really know what to do with the fact that there was a bounce house IN her house.  Loud and ready to swallow her, she wasn't quite sure.  Being the insistent mother I am, I pushed her in.  And boy you could just feel the joy.  They jumped and fell and squealed and ran...it was a morning of delight.  About 20 minutes into the tomfoolery she turned to Hubba and me and said "Thank you for this bounce house guys.  I accept this gift!"....Come again?  You ACCEPT this gift?  Are you serious?  I should hope f@(^%ng so!  This is the best gift a child of your age could ever hope to get aside from perhaps a pony which just ain't gonna happen!  You accept it?!  Sheesh!  I didn't make a big deal about it.  Just laughed and figured she had her words mixed up and wasn't quite clear on the true definition of the word "accept." 

Then a couple of days later we were having one of our infamous "Chats from the Throne" wherein she spills the beans both figuratively and literally.  I'm not quite sure why but that bathroom seems to be her verbal, expressive mecca and I (or any other human who is lucky enough to chaperon this expedition) get a full dissertation of her thoughts and feelings on a plethora of subjects ranging from death and heaven to butterflies and the okapi!  You just never really know what you're gonna get but chances are pretty good it will be interesting.  So on this eve in particular she shares her love for me.  This is a topic I can truly never get enough of probably because most of the time she is managing to show me with her actions that she feels quite the opposite.  So I am soaking up her compliments when she says, "You know mommy I wouldn't accept any other mommy than you.  You are my favorite mommy in the whole world!" (making me think that there might be other mommy's in the running here but whatever) Then she continues with her acceptance.  She states "I love our family and would accept no other family than this.  Our family is cute and friendly and kind to one and all.  I would accept no other family."  Then just for good measure she includes her love of our house and how she would accept no other house than this. 

All of these disclosures point to the fact that she is quite clear on acceptance and just what that word means.  So now I am left with the knowledge that while my girl is happy with all of the things in her life she is also QUITE particular and direct about what she will and will not allow in it.  This will be a tough act to keep up for the rest of eternity...

When it rains it pours.

I like to call what I have "dumb luck"...I define this luck as: "only someone as dumb as I could have luck like this."  Murphy has officially set up shop in my life and made himself at home.  I have learned to accept this fact and almost embrace it.  I don't know how.  Purportedly because it gives me something to write about and therefore can't be a total loss.  If I can make someone else laugh (even if I  am the only one laughing) at my misfortune then it can't really be considered a "bad" thing, right?  Friday was one of those prime examples.

My kids enjoy taking showers with me.  Another chapter in what I am sure could be called "Too Much Information" but this is where the story starts and omitting it is just not an option.  I don't bark about this shower imposition too much because I have the two of them wrangled in a confined space for at least 15 minutes and I am almost certain nothing bad can happen to either of them.  They splash and spit and wash and I actually get the opportunity to dig myself out of my previously acclaimed "troll" status.  I see it as a win-win.  But Friday was a special day.  I wanted to get some extra "work" done after said bath session as Hubba Hubba and had a hot date set for the following night.  Being that I generally feel less than lovely I thought I would take some extra steps on Friday to ensure loveliness on Saturday .  Nothing major.  Just a little facial of sorts.  So we hop out of the shower and there are towels all around.  The male midget quickly throws his to the wind and takes off streaking.  The girl follows suit.  So this gives me approximately 2.3 seconds before things go awry.  But because Saturday was a special day I assume that the planets will align and all shenanigans will be put on hold for the measly 30 seconds that is required for applying this facial exfoliating mask.  Boy was I wrong.  I slathered the mask on lickety split and then ran out in the other room to make sure that the minis were in line.  The girl I don't fret about...it's the boy who worries me.  So I walk into the living room to find 2 naked munchkins standing over a dumped bowl full of foam and felt fish.  My first reflex was "whew"...not 2 seconds after that sigh of relief did my boy embark on pissing out those fish like they were a forest fire and he was Smokey the Bear!  I dropped my towel and screamed out "Noooo!" like only a frantic mother could.  The girl jumped back about 5 feet and was begging "Mommy why is Chase peeing on the flooooor?"  Upon our hollering he sucked it up and stopped "the rain."  Then as I sat explaining to him that we don't pee on the floor and that we do it in the potty what does he do but unleash again.  I tried to stop the "stream" by holding his shirt over it but that just caught the slurry and back washed it more than stopped anything.  So I scooped him up and ran him to the toilet and sure enough once I sat him down he looked up at me with his sweet little man voice and said "All Done!"  GRRRR!  Seriously?  In follows princess to make sure she let's her brother know that she is "sad at him" for peeing on her fish.  These fish obviously had to be thrown in the trash and she was none too pleased with this repercussion.

So I continue on my "theme" of cleaning and break out the Little Green Machine.  Truly the best invention ever--gets more action around here than anything else.  Best $80 I've ever spent.  And I digress.  So I take to this carpet cleaning caper (all the while the face mask is burning the shit out of my skin) but I can't think to stop because with my luck Boy Wonder will get down on all fours and suck the carpet dry.  I wish I didn't have to go there with my thoughts but he has brought things to the table that I had never dreamed possible.  Never would have even foreseen as an option.  So now I am forced to dream big when it comes to him.  There is no attempt too grandiose and no act too outlandish.  I am shocked on the daily with the things he finds to be acceptable.  That being said I needed to act fast. 

Whilst I am on my cleaning-capade with the noise of the handheld wet vac creating a barrier I feel like I hear a scream.  I'm not sure it's a scream but it sounds like one.  I halt my mission, flick the switch and try to distinguish which child is in distress.  It's usually the boy crying about some injustice that his sister has issued.  This cry was LOUD, it was strong and it was worsening.  Towel still in hand I turn the corner expecting blood...and I got it!  Baby girl was walking toward me with a hand over her mouth and tears flowing freely.  (this kid RARELY cries from pain so I knew this was no joke)  Once she got close enough she took her hand from her face and all I could see was blood.  She was in a sheer panic.  It was all I could do to calm her down enough to tell me what happened and all the while I was just hoping and praying that all of her teeth were still intact.  There was so much blood pooling in her mouth and around it that I couldn't tell at first.  She finally screamed out that she was running from her brother and slipped and fell on her face in our bedroom (a cement floored bedroom).  The lip swelled so much she suddenly started to look like Dumb Donald from Fat Albert.  She was in hysterics and I was feeling like a jerk for going into neurosis over the pee-carpet.  Not that my intervention or presence would have kept this unfortunate mishap from occurring but at least I could have seen what happened in order to determine if a visit to the doctor was in order or not.  So all I could really do was wipe and wait.  She calmed down after about 30 minutes of disorder and finally decided that it would eventually feel better because amidst a crisis she is a fan of the phrase "It will NEVER feel better!  EVER!"  And so this glimmer of hope was a good sign.  Once I got all the blood washed away we determined that she would be losing no teeth and that they only hurt a little bit.  After a Hello Kitty cold pack to the face she is now only looking as though Mike Tyson got ahold of her for 1 round instead of all 10!  Luckily for me it's bad enough that I will be battling the "child abuse" leers from the folks at the store and other public locales for at least the next 5 days.  Thank God.  I wasn't sure I could get through this life without at least one situation where I was looked at as a psychotic mom who lost it on her kid and hauled off and punched her in the mouth.  Let me release yet another sigh of relief...WHEW!

So needless to say I finally got to wash MY face and remove the mask...after sitting in it for an hour.  I was hoping that all that extra time would just lead to extra pretty :)  Not quite sure it works that way but that was what I was telling myself.  It always seems at the crux of preparing for a night away from my kids they bust out with madness of this caliber making me feel either A.) guilty for leaving them or B.) guilty for asking another human being to submit themselves to this nonsense.  The shenanigans on Friday left me feeling a tinge of both. I sit wondering if this is by design or if this is a cleverly thought out and plotted plan by the miniatures.  I suppose I am giving them WAY more credit than they can rightfully take at this age.  But when antics like this hit the fan it just seems this way.  Maybe I am alone on this one?  But even if I am the only parent in the free world who feels this way, at the very least I hope that all who read this take note from the entry that, when buying or renting a new place you ALWAYS have the carpets cleaned before moving day!

**One month post-accident, the gals tooth roots actually died and she is now left with a grey Chiclet until this one falls out :( At least the tears/pain were validated by something!**

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...