Ha-ha-ha

Saturdays are typically a Wild Child Free For All in our house. Something about both parents being home inspires our children to work extra hard at driving us nuts. It makes my husband very grumpy. It drives me to do a lot of extra housework to try to stay out of their way.

But G redeemed himself of an entire morning of naughtiness by presenting my husband with a sparkly and gold string of beads and instructing him very earnestly, "I need you to make me a yak nose with this, Daddy."

Yes, you heard that right. Why a yak NOSE? Where did he learn the word "yak"? Why with a BEADED NECKLACE? Why do four year olds say ANY of the things they say? Wouldn't you love to get in their heads sometimes?

At any rate, it was enough to elicit some much-needed hysterical laughter from the husband, and I may have wet my pants a little, and also screwed up the lettering on the cake I was trying to decorate (it's okay Lucy, I fixed it!).

Listen up, ladies...this is where we're headed when WE retire

Can I just tell you how much I love assvice from total freaking strangers? Because, oh yeah, I love me some of THAT. (Blog-land advice excluded, of course, because you all are actually KIND and HELPFUL).

I love when someone asks my children, "Aren't you COLD without a COAT on today?"

I love when certain parenting magazines give me tips on "Mothers Who Discipline Without Yelling."

And what I really love?

When the old retired woman working as a Walmart "greeter" stops me on the way out of the store, when I have been shopping for thirty minutes at nine in the morning with an unruly four year old crammed in the back with the groceries (and rum, if you must know) and a flailing, wailing two year old who is about to climb out of the Proper Child Seat of my cart, and I'm finally doing everyone a favor by getting OUT of the store.

Yes, as I am grasping said two year old's coat while she kneels, screaming, in the Proper Child Seat (refusing to sit on her bottom) so that she will not crash to the floor, and as my now miraculously calm and quiet four year old rides on the back of the cart (you know, with his feet on the rack below, holding on to the edge of the cart "like a monkey!" because that way at least he will not run from me and get hit by a car while I'm trying to manage the wild two year old and not hit cars with my cart), the greeter actually touched my arm and gestured for me to stop.

Sounding nearly frantic at the sight of G riding on the end of the cart (but seemingly none too concerned about L about to catapult herself out of the Proper Child Seat), and I'm sure having disgusted thoughts along the lines of Honestly, These Young Mothers Today, she says, "Ma'am! Ma'am! You can't let your son ride that way on the cart! It's very dangerous!"

And then, APPARENTLY BLIND TO MY TWO YEAR OLD, WHO HAS NOW TWISTED OUT OF MY GRIP AND IS MAKING FINAL ADJUSTMENTS FOR HER PLUMMET TO THE CONCRETE FLOOR, she actually waves her hand over the "safety instructions" printed on the Proper Child Seat, which just so happen to be right under the two year old's kicking feet, and says, "See? It says right here that they can't ride that way!"

And internet, I just couldn't contain it...I rolled my eyes at her, and said in my Overly-Cheerful-And-I'd-Like-To-Knock-Your-Head-Off-Voice, "Excellent. I'll have him walk next to me and just hope he doesn't get hit by a car!"

Her very relieved response? "Okay! Thank you!"

I keep on moving, totally irritated, and horrified that I have been CALLED OUT by the Parent Police, and she keeps on talking..."I'm sorry about that, ma'am, it's just not safe!"

Still rolling, looking straight ahead at my goal of hiding my rude and ugly self in my car, I shout, "You know, when you have two kids under four, you just do what you have to to get OUT OF THE DAMN STORE!"

Epilogue:

Since I am medicated now, I didn't hang onto this all day long like I normally would. It did not ruin my day, like it would have in the past. And for all I know, that sweet little grandma has four grown children of her own who once were illegal cart riders and she was just trying to be helpful.

But REALLY. Did she have to STOP me? I've heard the freaking shoplifter alarm go off and seen those greeters look flustered, trying to figure out what to do, and they're so slow that the person who is probably shoplifting is already halfway to their car.

Maybe I just need to move faster than the grannies to avoid their wrath. Silly Hily, I may need to sign up for your Jazzercise class.

I shall add this to her therapy tab

Yeah, you know how it's always funny to hear SOMEONE ELSE'S Bad Mother Moments? Well, I've got one for you.

So we arrive at Target and L, in accordance with her personal goal of Peeing In Every Bathroom In the Southern Missouri Area, insists loudly that she "NEEDA PEEEE!" the moment we walk through the doors of the store.

Our (Super!) Target has bathrooms right at the front, (obviously designed by a Mother), so we trot right in. Of course the "Family" bathroom is taken, so we are forced to use one of the regular stalls in the regular restroom. You know, the "regular" stalls, the ones where you have to wedge yourself in between the toilet, the paper holder, and the wall just to get the door closed?

Yes. So I cram myself, G, and L into the stall. G is busying himself trying to look under the wall into the next stall (don't you HATE kids who DO that? Gah. Don't their mothers teach them ANYTHING?), and as I am trying not to bust through the door with my ass, I barely manage to hoist a wiggling L onto the potty seat, which is gigantic and frightening to her tiny two year old bottom.

I get her up there, start unrolling toilet paper for her, and in one quick moment of Huge Potty Fright, she lets go of the seat and reaches out to grab for me. Um, yeah, oops, do you see where this is going?

I totally let my two year old baby fall into a public toilet. I mean INTO...like, big-splash-of-water-legs-sticking-up-in-the-air-falling. And, um, yes, I may quite possibly have laughed at her hysterically before regaining my senses enough to pull her out.

Ahem. Now, back to my rehearsal sessions for the Mother Of The Year award.

I am BORING...where is the funny?

Good grief.

Still no drama.

I'm happy, carefree.

My children did their best this morning to make me lose my mind, but I did not.

I was totally irritated with them for throwing rocks down the stairs (a BAG full of sea stones that SOMEONE thought would make a great birthday gift for my rock loving son), but didn't lose it.

I was mildly bothered when I found they had taken off all the couch cushions and were jumping on the springs of my couch, but I did not freak out.

I was able to ignore the fact that they picked half the flowers off of my freshly planted mums.

I had to stifle an actual giggle when I found G trying to "fix L's boo-boo" (imaginary) with a cotton ball full of calamine lotion.

I did laundry and dishes today.

I read blogs, I took a nap.

My social calendar is full this week...scrapbook class with my friend E tonight, visiting with another stay at home mom friend tomorrow afternoon, margaritas with a buddy Thursday, short visit to an out-of-town friend on Friday, and not a panic-attack in sight.

Is this what it is like to be normal, or have I OVER MEDICATED MYSELF?

Wait, if I'm worrying about that, I must still be "me". Nevermind.

The Drama. It is missing.

I am feeling so SANE these past few days, I'm at a loss for any drama to share with you, bloggers! So, once again, I resort to random thoughts and ramblings.

1. I've been cheating on my Carmex with Neutrogena MoistureShine Lip Soother Cooling Hydragel in "Shimmer". It smells delightfully melon-y and is nice and glossy. Mmmmm, tingly lips. And for a woman who spends approximately $12 a year on makeup, it's $6 a tube - so I shall pace myself.

2. Last night was a big night in our house - the premiere of "Desperate Housewives"! Oh, how I love that show. And I love it even more now because last night, when Bree's new man was about to get DOWN and dirty, she sat up and said, "Stop! I don't do that! I'm a REPUBLICAN!", and then freaked out and went to the doctor, only to discover that she'd had her first big O. Bwaa-ha-ha-ha! Good grief, you Republicans out there - see how much fun we Democrats have been having?

3. Is it wrong to go from sample booth to sample booth at Sam's Club (kinda like a Costco, for those of you not from around these parts) and call it my children's morning snack?

4. After a hellish day of errands with my children, I rewarded myself with Starbucks...but instead of my usual 500 calorie Banana Caramel Frappuccino, I was a good girl and had a Light Caramel Frappuccino, tall, with no whipped cream, 140 calories! That's less than a 20 oz. bottle of soda, and it was actually pretty good!

5. I've begun calorie counting again, and it's gone well today. I also put on my tennis shoes with the intention of getting on the treadmill. I did not actually get ON the treadmill, but PEOPLE! I got the shoes on! That's the first step, right?

6. I am watching CSI Miami right now. David Caruso's character's name is Horatio, which my husband and I think is an insanely funny name for a main character. We love CSI night, because we get our kicks by responding to his always profound statements by making up other crazy "H" names and saying things like, "You GO, Hector", or "Way to give 'em hell, Horace." Anybody have some more "H" names to make our Monday night game more fun? And yes, I know, we are weird and need to find a better hobby than talking to the television and laughing hysterically at David Caruso's devastating profound-ness. "NO WORRIES, MA'AM. AND ERIC, THAT HUMMER DOESN'T LEAVE YOUR SIGHT." You totally rule, Heinrich.

7. G told L today, "You're NOT MY SISTER!" And L told G he was a "Shooey poop head". Ah, the sibling love. It just melts my heart.

8. I'm considering buying L one of those obnoxious shirts with an obnoxious phrase on it. I normally don't go for those (hello, WHY would you put your terribly behaved preschooler in a shirt that says 'I'm A Brat'?), but I'm making an exception with this one - it says "WARNING. I AM TWO." I also plan to order the "WARNING. I AM THREE" shirt for future use, because I don't think we'll be seeing a light at the end of the Tantrum Tunnel for quite some time.

So, that's about it for today. I will try to think up some witty and exciting blog material in my sleep tonight!

Attitude adjustment

Now, I hope I am not jinxing myself by writing this, but I seem to be feeling more stable these days. Ah, yes, I still have mood swings and my children are still driving me bananas and I am still obsessively making lists. BUT! I can't explain it fully, but I just feel more "normal".

I'm not sure where to give credit for this nice, new feeling, but I've got some ideas:

1. G's birthday party is over! The stress, the planning, the shopping, the cleaning of windows and ceiling fans (don't ask)...ov-ah!

2. I quit the babysitting gig. She was an adorable baby, and I miss her now and then, but I now appreciate the EASE of caring for only TWO children. It's all relative.

3. It's fall! Missouri's trees are about to get gorgeous, I just might be able to snuggle up in a blanket and watch a local football game, Halloween is on the way, the weather is turning cool, AND I can hide inside big, cozy sweaters!

4. New shows are back on TV! Gah, how I love me some TV. Hubby was saying the other day that it felt like life was getting back to normal again now that all of "our shows" are back on. I have a slight addiction to television...but that is a post for another day.

5. My friends rock! I've had a rough couple of weeks, and they have all stepped in to "rescue" me in one way or another, from good phone conversations, to stopping by with ready-made margaritas, and more. You all know who you are, and thank you.

6. Possibly the most helpful (ya think?): I have finally gotten myself some Official Help, by way of a few good prescriptions. Yay, anti-anxiety pills and anti-depressants! And since it's only been a week, I'm guessing I'm experiencing nothing but a placebo effect, but who cares? I'LL TAKE IT!

Because CAKE puts Blogger in the MOOD

THIS ONE'S DEDICATED TO MRS. S

*DISCLAIMER* I was all happy with Blogger for letting me post pictures, and now it's getting some sort of sick revenge by not letting me put breaks between my paragraphs. So good luck trying to read this - whip out your freaking reading glasses.

I've been telling you all for quite a while now that I decorate cakes (and sometimes make scrapbooks) to generate a little extra spending cash.

A few months back, my husband decided to let me start a "cake fund". Any money I make on cakes or scrapbooks goes into my little account, and I also must buy supplies from there. However, the most I've accumulated in there is $78, which also happened to be the day I got an $80 speeding ticket.

This whole cake thing got started back in my childhood. My Granny always decorated our family birthday cakes, and has amassed a huge collection of Wilton cake pans over the years. I remember spending HOURS poring over those Wilton cake decorating books, and wanting in the worst way to be able to make those pretty icing roses.

I messed around with it through the years, making cakes here and there with Granny's help. But when I was on maternity leave with G, I signed up for a cake decorating class with Granny at a local craft store. I loved it, so I ended up taking two more. I still can't make the roses, but I make a damn fine apple blossom.

So, because I'm so freaking excited that Blogger is in the mood to let me put up pictures, some cakes I've made, for your viewing pleasure! And because, you know, it's fun to be a show off now and then.

Oh, and by the way, thanks for all the sweet comments yesterday...I will be adding pictures to the birthday post this weekend, so come back to check them out!

And also? Silly Hily, I firmly planted my behind on the couch tonight and watched Grey's Anatomy...love it! Aren't you proud of me? Now I can participate in all the water cooler discussions with the cool chicks.

So, without further ado: The Cakes (okay, some of the cakes)

And the Grand Finale:

The first, and last, wedding cake I ever made. Made for a very trusting childhood friend. The planning for this cake made me sweat bullets for a month.

It did not collapse when cut.

Whew.

*sigh*

Four

Today is my son's fourth birthday. I keep starting and deleting birthday posts, because nothing I write can really put into words what I feel for him.

During my (very planned!) pregnancy with G, I had my share of aches, pains, worries, and swollen feet (okay, and also swollen hands, face, toes, and fingers).

I was also just beginning to get a taste of what it would be like to be a working mom...the night I went into labor with him, I had been at school until 10 pm trying to get everything ready for my maternity leave substitute teacher.

My work at school was not done, but I was exhausted, so I went home, took a shower, cleaned the bathroom (nesting, anyone?) and fell into bed just before midnight. When I woke up at 1 am, I knew I was in labor. My first words to my husband were, "We've got to go back to the school...I can't leave that mess for my sub!" And then my contractions got to be about 3 minutes apart, so we did not go to school - we called our doula instead. This was the first moment that my Having A Baby In The Most Perfect Way Ever Plans went awry.

When I arrived at the hospital at 3:30 am on September 19, I was only 3 cm. dilated and in MAJOR PAIN. They admitted me and said I was in such a good contraction pattern, they bet that I'd have a baby by noon. They were wrong. At noon, I was barely 5 cm. dilated.

Labor, which I was attempting totally unmedicated, lasted a total of 24 hours and 24 minutes. I caved and got the epidural at hour 18. Pushing took 3 hours, a vacuum extraction, and an episiotomy. This marks the second time that my carefully made Having A Baby In The Most Perfect Way Ever Plans did not go as expected. G was born at 1:21 am on September 20.

On going home day, I put on the size 18 shirt I'd brought (because that's BIG! Screw bringing MATERNITY clothes!), it barely squeezed over my still pregnant looking tummy. I gained 50 pounds while I was pregnant and was so swollen I could have popped, so no, I don't know what I was thinking. All of my Plans were quickly being shot to hell.

When we left the hospital with G, I cried all the way home. I am still not sure why - hormones, I suppose. Part of the crying came from the realization that we were out of the hospital safety net, and Something Bad could now happen to my new baby...it hit me hard, the fact that I would do anything, ANYTHING, in the whole world to keep my child safe from the Big, Bad World. Those Mothering Instincts can really take your breath away.

But mostly, I just felt so overwhelmed. My tummy was hanging and stretchmarked and uncomfortably empty, my boobs hurt, my clothes didn't fit, my awesome stay in my Maternity Suite was over (not kidding - unlimited TV, a baby to cuddle, food delivered on demand), and I was still shocked at the fact that my baby was a BOY (we chose not to find out the sex before delivery). And also, NO ONE tells you about the ick factor of childbirth. Plus, the part that is shameful and selfish to admit, I was sad because Me And My Pregnancy were no longer on center stage...now it was all about this new baby. The whole experience was a total shock to my system. Beautiful, amazing, and momentous, but still a shocker.

G was about 10 days early, and I was sleep deprived even before his delivery from trying to be absolutely, totally READY to bring home a baby. I wasn't READY. I wanted a do-over, where I was completely ready to start being a mother. In truth, I was probably more prepared than any new mother ever was...but I so loved being pregnant, that I could have stayed in that pregancy cocoon forever and been content. Pregnancy was fun, exciting, new...I hated that feeling of it all being ripped away from me without warning.

We sat on the couch with G that first evening, just staring at him, not sure what to DO with him. I told my husband that it seemed like his mother should come and get him. I loved him with all of my heart, but the whole thing just came upon me so suddenly that I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that he was OUR baby, to take care of FOREVER. I felt so pathetically unprepared. Needless to say, I had some interesting post-partum issues during the months that followed.

As much as I was in love with my baby, as much as I needed and wanted him, I kept waiting for my life to return to "normal". To get caught up. To sleep. To get my old body back.

"Normal" never returned. I still feel "behind", like I just need a few days to get "caught up".

And here I sit. Forty pounds later. Two anxiety medications later. A thousand tears later. After leaving my 8 week old newborn to go to work and crying all day long, after weaning my child from breast to bottle, after anxiously watching my baby's first steps, after coaxing out his first word (dog), after potty training, after enduring binky addiction and recovery, after delivering another child nineteen months after the first, after a new house, new jobs, and a new car. After taking G to his first Chuck E. Cheese party, to his first ride on a pony, and to his first day of preschool.

Here I sit, with a four year old son. I can still see the baby in his face, the precious face that I memorized during those never-ending middle of the night nursing sessions.

G was an easy baby, a fact that we did not realize until after his not-so-easy sister came along. He has NOT been an easy toddler. In fact, he makes me want to lock myself in the bedroom and cry more often than he makes me laugh. But when he does make me laugh? It's worth every tear-my-hair-out moment.

He is smart, adorable, and has a great vocabulary. He is amazingly curious and creative. He has a penchant for organization (I'm so proud), and has the craziest sense of humor. I am so proud to be his mother. I love him so much.

It's almost physically painful to watch him grow up. And it's definitely mentally painful, as my medicine cabinet would testify.

But every now and then, I can still remember those early days with him, just staring at his new-ness and perfection. I can remember sitting in his room before he was even born, trying to imagine what it would be like to have a baby in the house. I can remember changing his clothes three times a day, just because it was fun to dress him up. I can remember crying over him as he slept in his crib...I missed being pregnant and having him with me all the time...he looked so tiny and lonely in that big crib. I can remember how warm and soft and tiny he was. He will always be my baby.

Happy birthday, buddy.

P.S. When blogger is over it's fit, I'm going to repost this with pictures. :)

For those times when "Puddle of Mudd" songs are just not appropriate

You know, every few days or so I'll accidentally discover a new trick that makes my kids behave for ten minutes. Of course, the trick only works for about a day, and then I am off to try to find MORE new tricks. But ten minutes of peaceful, well-behaved silence? I'LL TAKE IT!

Let me tell you about my new trick. It's for the car. Read on, my friends.

A few months ago, I was in the car with a friend, and she started playing this kids' CD and singing along. Her daughter is nine, so I asked if that was the reason she owned and listened to this CD. "Nope! I just like it!" she replied.

Well, I liked it too, so I ordered a copy from Amazon for G's birthday. Today, on the way to Walm--wait, you know exactly where I was going. Let's just call it "the store". Anyway, on the way to the store, G and L were going wild in the backseat and about to cause me my fourteenth nervous breakdown of the day (I'm soooo not kidding), so I popped in the CD.

And at least for today, it was The Magic CD. Laurie Berkner's "Buzz Buzz" to be exact. When I popped it in, set to the title track (number 5), there was silence in the backseat. Sweet silence.

And also, one mommy in sweatpants and a ponytail bopping her head, drumming her hands on the wheel, and singing along at the top of her lungs, to the curiosity and delight of the children in the back. Can I just tell you?

I was sitting in my garden
When I saw a bumblebee
He said his name was Oscar

And he went
Buzz buzz buzz, buzz buzz ba-buzz buzz, buzz buzz buzz BA-BUZZ.
Oh, buzz buzz buzz, buzz buzz ba-buzz buzz, buzz buzz buzz BA-BUZZ.

Oh, bumblebee, can't you see
It's just you and me
One, two, ah-one, two, three, GO!

Buzz buzz buzz...

OMG. I can't make the link work, but go to Amazon.com. Search for Laurie Berkner Buzz Buzz. When you get it, click on "more information" and you will get a listing of tracks you can listen to. Listen to "Buzz Buzz" (and also "Valley of Vegetables", if you're so inclined...and maybe also "Pig on Her Head, because that's G's favorite). I swear it will make your day better.

For all of us 20ish and 30ish girls that spent our teens and early twenties listening to all those Lilith Fair girl singers, Laurie Berkner is Lilith Fair-ish, for mommies of toddlers. LOVE HER. And love her even more because my children behave for her. L even did some toddler head banging of her own and said, "LOUDER, mama!" Gah, she makes me proud sometimes.

Now, when I have to turn up the radio really, really loud, I don't have to feel guilty!

See what being a mommy has done to me? The woman who was happily rocking out to "She F***in' Hates Me" by Puddle of Mudd - but NOT with kids in the car, of course (thanks Donna and Amy for introducing me to my new favorite song) is now enthralled with weird children's tunes. I shall now go pop in the CD and embrace my mommy-ness.

Contest

Bloggers! Go visit Bluebird Blogs to enter yourself in a contest for a free blog design! Free stuff is GOOD!

Party at our house!

We had G's 4th birthday party on Saturday. He was soooo excited opening gifts this year.

He opened movies, tools, a doctor kit, puzzles, animals, books, and really cool dinosaurs.

He and his sister are fighting over each and every gift as I write this.

L was just thrilled that there was a party. She got some gifts of her own to open, because we're just crazy like that around here. This is her in her princess getup from my friend A.

This is the cake. We went jungle / Madagascar theme this year. And CPA mom asked if I ate the cake...hell, yes, I ate cake! And we are still eating cake. I tend to overdo things a little, and so the cake just happened to be a tad too big...I totally wasn't even thinking about having leftovers to eat every night for a week. Not at all.

This is the Sunday morning party carnage.

L, looking a bit like Dame Edna, is wearing necklaces, dress up shoes, and glasses from the doctor kit (because Little Tykes says ALL doctors wear GLASSES to make them SMART, of course) while putting together plastic screws and wood from the tool kit. Love it.

One more minor emergency before the partying is over...G somehow managed to get 6 helium balloons, still attached to their ribbons and a weight, wrapped 8 jillion times around his wrist, so tight that his hand was turning red. We laughed, because that's what we do here when our children do dangerous things like stick Yo-Go's up their noses, or cut off their circulation with balloon strings.

Hubby had to pop all the balloons and carefully cut each string to get him loose.

BLOGGER JUST ATE THAT PICTURE SO YOU'LL HAVE TO IMAGINE IT YOURSELF. YOU'RE GETTING NOTHING FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY, BLOGGER.

Anyway, I'm worn out and his actual birthday is Wednesday, so I'll post the Teary, Overdramatic, I Can't Believe My Baby Is Four story then.

Fat Friday #9

Lies I tell myself:

1. I MUST have a Frappucino to gear up for the everlasting day ahead with my children.

2. I dug up weeds for 20 minutes today, so I must have burned off like 500 calories. I mean, the squatting made my legs REALLY tired!

3. My arms are so sore from rolling the paint roller for two hours, I bet that my arms will look more toned by morning!

4. I don't sleep well without ice cream before bed.

5. Turning 30 must have caused a sudden and dramatic drop in the proper functioning of my metabolism.

6. I just made it all the way through Walmart with two screaming toddlers...I DESERVE a pint of Ben and Jerry's!

7. It's baby weight.

8. I will not buy one more new item of clothing, except shoes, until I have lost this weight. Ha! Hahahaha! Tell that to the brand new "fat" pants in my closet.

9. I will only watch Young and the Restless while walking on the treadmill.

10. I've NEVER been that thin anyway.

Why do I keep doing this to myself? My attachment to food and not exercising must have reached it's peak by NOW. It's like I'm daring myself to see just how fat I can get before...what? Before WHAT?

As a matter of fact, this morning, in order to prepare for my son's birthday party tomorrow, I took G and L to daycare so I could have the day to work ALONE. And lo, my first thought after dropping them off? What should I go get to eat?

I drove by the closest place to my house that sells frozen coffee, and it was CLOSED. And that pretty much screwed up my entire morning. Do I come home and MAKE myself some coffee, find SOMETHING to eat at home? NO! I'm still sitting here, closing in on lunchtime, thinking about the Frappucino That Could Have Been, but on the other hand, fully knowing I don't need it. But I want one. And I haven't eaten all day...so maybe I'll just run out real quick...SEE? More lies!

The answer is as simple as self control. But I have none. NONE. If I want it, I have it, which is precisely why I am in the position I'm in now.

I've halfheartedly attempted Slimfast, Weight Watchers, Ultra 90 and I've bought a treadmill, countless exercise videos, and joined a gym more than once. I've read "Intuitive Eating", and I own a copy of "Get With The Program", written by Oprah's personal trainer.

I want, I NEED, a fast solution. I need to wake up one morning and have the fat thighs, jiggly tummy, swinging arms, and double chin GONE, so I can start fresh. I hate counting calories and being hungry and exercising every morning for two weeks and then discover I've only lost half a freaking pound. If I could just start over, with a thin body, I swear I would eat well, and exercise every day, and keep it that way FOREVER. Or is that just another lie I tell myself?

Would you like to count the question marks in this post?

When friends read my blog (the particularly funny entries, anyway) or hear me complain yet again about the scene my children made at Walmart, they always say, "You should write a BOOK!"

Now that's flattering. But I truly don't think I would have enough material to fill, or enough patience to complete, a book.

But as far as solutions for Everyday Toddler Problems? I wish someone WOULD write a book about that. Oh, I know, there are tons of parenting books out there. But they never really get to the heart (or the ass?) of typical, everyday issues that come up when one is living with two (or more) toddlers.

For example: What IS the correct Parent Reaction / Form of Discipline when:

1. L pulls G's winky in the bathtub? Some books say to ignore it and redirect their behavior, but how long can I really ignore it when they're in the process of making up a game called "Catch My Winky"?

2. L steals G's neglected half of a Poptart and crams the entire thing in her mouth before I can stop her? Should I dig it out and make her give it back to G?

3. When they throw objects from the backseat, nearly making me wreck the car? Is it okay to just scream and throw it back?

4. When the whining and crying in the confines of the car reaches a decibel that no human can possibly be expected to tolerate? My answer has always just been to turn up the radio as loud as possible to drown out their noise.

5. When you are so tired that you think you may fall asleep while EATING, and you LOVE eating, so you decide to take a little nap while your kids are napping, and then one of them wakes up before you, and since you are absolutely comatose, they totally disassemble the contents of the refrigerator, no, the ENTIRE KITCHEN, while you drool on the pillow? Wait! I do have a solution to that one! I put up two gates in the hall, one on top of the other (so there can be no climbing over), and then pull a sleeping bag into the hall and nap in front of my children's doors. Ahhh, sleep.

My kids sure have a way of keeping me hopping. Because, really? Yo-Go's up the nose? June bugs in the mouth that are still wiggling their legs? Poptarts in the VCR? Licking deodorant, I assume because it loosely resembles an ice cream cone, but who the hell really knows?

Why didn't someone write a book of WARNING to give us while we were still in the hospital in a Newborn Love Haze?

Probably because none of us would have believed that our precious new babies would EVER grow up to be three and lock us out of the house while we get the mail and then laugh at us through the glass while we beat on the door praying that the neighbors can't see us Losing The Battle Against The Children Inside.

But if someone had written that book of Warning? I might not have been standing outside my own house begging my two and three year old to LET ME IN. So somebody start writing!

Why do my problems ALWAYS start at Walmart?

So we go to church Sunday, and then have to stop at Walmart on the way home. G and L ask for a package of those new "Yo-Go's" fruit snacks at the checkout counter. I get them some, because, hey, I'm not above buying my children off to be QUIET for five minutes.

We're driving home, and the kids are making their typical little noises in the backseat (alright...fighting, whining, and throwing things), when all of a sudden, G gets REALLY quiet. Hubby turns around and sees that G has a weird look on his face. I turn around and verify that G does NOT seem to be acting normal all of a sudden.

We are just a few minutes from home, and we start asking him what's wrong.

Did you wet your pants? No.

Did you POOP your pants? No.

Does your tummy hurt? No.

Do you have a boo-boo? No.

Did you drop your toy animals? No.

G! What is WRONG?

Then hubby looks at him more closely, as we are at a stoplight.

G, did you put something up your NOSE? No! *turns head away*

OMG, we got him to nearly four years of age without having anything stuck in him, not counting the green bean in his ear at 10 months, and he has STUCK A YO-GO UP HIS FREAKING NOSE.

Cue me laughing hysterically with tears running down my face. Because I am a caring, sensitive mother.

But then, I start alternating between uncontrollable sobs, frightened for my firstborn's well-being, and rip-snorting-toe-curling laughter. If you've never experienced THAT emotion, let me tell you, it's very strange...my husband will testify.

So I call my aunt, who has two boys who I assume have SURELY stuck things up their noses and may have some advice as to what we should do, but since I can't even compose myself enough to tell her what has happened, I pass the phone to hubby.

He talks with her and says we should just get home and try to remove it ourselves.

I hear G sniffling and am SURE that he is wedging that Yo-Go right up into his sinus cavity.

So I demand, between the laughing and crying, that hubby pull over at the next parking lot, which happens to be the Hottie Dog Stand (classy - I know). I try to get him to blow his nose, but instead, he sucks IN. He hasn't exactly got the hang of blowing yet, and that would have really come in handy about now.

We hurry home and take G to the bathroom, where hubby begins to poke around in there with a Q-TIP! "What are you DOING? You're going to shove it further in! Use the TWEEZERS!" I demand, as G looks more and more terrified.

"I can't get the tweezers in - it's too far up. We may HAVE to go to the doctor."

OMG. Panic mode. I begin to fear that an 88 cent package of Yo-Go's is really going to end up costing more like $250, when we get the ER bill.

So hubby has one more technique to try...he gets out that tool they use at the dentist to poke at your teeth, you know, the one with an inch long, shiny metal hook at the end? Of course G sees that, covers his nose, and RUNS. And L is standing by, helpfully telling G, "S'okay....we go to docccctor. Docccctor get it out at hossssspital. S'okay, bubby."

I can't bear to hold him down to let hubby STICK A HOOK in G's nose, so I tell him once again to BLOW, really hard. Hubby massages the outside of his nose, trying to work the candy out, and I close his other nostril with my finger as he blows.

I guess the fear of hospitals, tweezers, and hooks inspired him, because the Yo-Go came SHOOTING out, and I mean shooting, with an arc and everything, like you would see in a movie.

Hubby and I are still hysterically laughing, and L decides to join in, throwing her head back and belly laughing. G runs to his room covering his nose.

I know we shouldn't have laughed - he'll probably remember that forever. "Remember mom, when you made fun of me because I had something stuck up my nose? I've never forgiven you for that."

But hey, we saved money not going to the ER, so I'll just chuck that cash away into his therapy fund.

Scroll DOWN

Now I'm irritated.

I started a draft yesterday, and then saved it and decided to do a 9/11 post instead.

So today, I finished that draft and hit post. And you know what? Since I STARTED that post yesterday, it POSTED it like I'd written it yesterday.

So now you'll have to scroll down the page if you want to read the post. Otherwise, it will never be read and will be lost in blog-limbo.

And if anybody knows how I can make blogger stop doing that crap, please let me know.

**Frema and Crazycatlady helped me fix it! Now the post is up above, where it was supposed to be! Yay!

Where I Was

Well, I started an entry today about weird things my kids have done recently. But it seems a little odd today to write about gummy snacks and screaming children.

I'm fairly certain that this won't be the most interesting entry I've ever written, but part of the reason I blog is so that someday, I can print it all out and have it as a record of my experiences, whether big and important moments, or just the tedium of day to day. I know that the things I write about here will fade from memory, and I also want my children, when they are grown, to be able to understand me a little better by reading my writing.

So with that thought in mind, I'd just like to record my 9/11 memories on this 5th anniversary of the attacks.

On September 11, 2001, I was 25 years old, had no children (but we were trying), and was in my first month of teaching 3rd grade in my new school district.

I arrived at work at about 7:15 in the morning to get ready for the day before my students arrived. While working, I had the radio tuned to my favorite station. A little before 8:00, I was about to turn off the radio and go get my students when I heard the host of the local radio morning show say, "We're getting reports that a kamikaze pilot has crashed a plane into the World Trade Center in New York City. We'll keep you updated as we get more inf-" Click. I was mildly curious, but sort of thought it was some radio stunt or joke, and turned off the radio.

I went on about my morning, teaching lessons as usual. I went to drop my kids at P.E. around 10:00, and my principal stopped me in the hall. She said, "We're not telling the kids anything about this today." I said, puzzled, "Anything about what?" "The planes that hit the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Didn't you know?" she replied. We're sort of in our own little worlds when we're shut away in our classrooms.

So I immediately ran down to the workroom, where someone had rolled in a television with poor reception. A group of us sat, watching the grainy images of the first tower collapsing. We wondered aloud if there were schools near that area that might be damaged with children inside. As I sat, dumbfounded, I said to no one in particular, "I'm kind of scared." And someone replied, "We should be."

I went back to my classroom and stared out my windows, which just happened to look out over a field with cows grazing and a small pond (my school is out in the country, obviously). The sky was so blue, the weather was so mild, and everything outside my window looked so innocent; it was hard to make sense of what was happening thousands of miles away while looking out at that open field. The only thing that looked different to me was that no children were outside at recess - we kept them inside that day.

I stood there waiting for a jet to come flying low and crash into the field, or our school. We had little news at this point about why this was happening, so I just remember feeling like the whole world must be under attack and we were surely next. It was terrifying. I called my husband, and then my mother, to make sure they were alright, and they were. I did not personally know anyone who was a victim of the attacks that day, although I knew several people stranded away from home due to flights being grounded.

I muddled through the day somehow, anxious to get home to Tom Brokaw, who I was sure could comfort me. I remember people being lined up at gas stations, and gas stations with "Closed" signs up. I didn't join the gas panic...I just wanted to go home.

My husband and I sat and watched the news all night long, flipping from channel to channel in horror - it seems like we spent weeks sitting in front of the television, watching and watching, wanting to stop but not being able to. I dreamed about it when I went to sleep.

I woke up thinking about it. I knew I had to go in to school and talk to my third graders about what had happened, and I had to do it without scaring them and without too many tears. It was a difficult day.

I feel like I changed after September 11. I'm sure most people feel that to some degree. I got pregnant with my son just a few months later, and though I was ecstatic, I was also scared, knowing what a different kind of world he would now have to grow up in.

In some ways, I divide my life into Before 9/11 and After 9/11. Although I did not lose anyone in the attacks, I definitely lost some of my innocence regarding what kind of world I live in.

I put up flags outside our house today, something I rarely do. G asked me why, and I told him that this was a day when we needed to remember how proud we are to be Americans. He said he "liked those flags." So do I, G. So do I.

Questions - The Eighth and Final Chapter

I know, I know! I have not been very good this week at blogging OR checking blogs. AND, I've missed two "Fat Fridays" in a row. This babysitting job, not to mention my own two wild animals, is getting the best of me.

You're probably also wondering if I will EVER be done answering questions...and yes, I will be done, today!

Thank you to everyone who participated...this has really been fun, and it's flattering to know that so many people were interested in ME! Eeeeee!

Frema has earned the title of Asking Me The Hardest Questions.

So, here it goes. And I am going to have to censor just a little, because as I've told you before, I live in FEAR that certain family members may someday find my blog!

Frema asked: Under what circumstances did you lose your virginity? How did you feel afterward?

FREMA! I'm SHY! And so now, on with the censoring. Let's just say that I was very much in loooove, it was totally planned out, and I had special lingerie and certain music picked out for the occasion (Yes! This officially makes me Most Obsessive Compulsive Woman in the World!). Afterwards, I thought..."Hmmm. That was IT?" And then I felt very mature. And wise.

In Frema's other question, she did not realize what a can of worms she had opened up by asking: What is the most difficult problem you and your husband have had to overcome in dating / marriage?

Oh dear. If you are a friend of mine, you've HEARD THIS STORY 800 TIMES, so you can just ignore me. For the rest of you, I'll try to skip along the highlights. But there will still need to be some censoring.

I began dating my husband when I was 18, just after graduation. He is a year older than me and had just finished his first year of college. We met at work.

My FIRST clue about his "issues" should have been that he was actually flirting with my friend before he discovered me.

My SECOND clue should have been that when I mentioned his name to a friend of mine, she said, "Seth blahblah? The one from X high school? OMG! I've heard of him!"

Things were rolling along peacefully until about eight months into dating. I went to visit him at his college for a big St. Patrick's day bash (read=wild, drunken, week long debacle) and soon discovered there had been, ahem, another girl...but it wasn't as bad as it could have been, if you get my drift.

Regardless, I went into fits of Jealous, Crazy, 18 year old rage. The following year was rocky, to say the least, but the whole thing eventually faded away (for the most part). And then things between the two of us seemed to be going along just swimmingly...we communicated well, he visited me from college every weekend, my family loved him, we even went to church together every Sunday. I knew we would get married someday.

BUT...you knew there was a "but" coming, right?

Fast forward to our engagement, April of 1999. The month after he'd proposed, I get an email on our shared computer from a girl named C. She assumes she's writing to Seth...but I'm the one who opened the email. She says something along the lines of, "Is this Seth blahblah? The one I met at Silver Dollar City?" Curious, I email back, "Yes, it is!" I have quite an involved email conversation with C (pretending to be Seth - I KNOW, it was evil of me), and find out a lot of shocking information. I will spare you the details, because I'm guessing you get the idea.

Let's see - how to make this short...I know! A LIST!

1. After hours of badgering, get Seth to confess about C.
2. Track down C. Tell her what I think. Because I am a crazy bitch.
3. Run to friend, B, who says, "Oh, it's not this C girl you should be worried about. It's T!"
4. WHAT? After hours of badgering, get Seth to confess about T.
5. Lay in bed, staring at ceiling, not moving or eating, for two days.
6. Plot revenge, call off engagement.
7. Eventually begin to put things back together. Engagement back on.

Fast forward again, to the month before our first anniversary, 2001.

1. Sorting through and trashing old phone bills. Find suspicious number, from back in 1999. Call it. Not good.
2. After hours of badgering, get Seth to confess about J.
3. Track down J. Tell her what I think.
4. Tell Seth if there is ANYTHING ELSE, he had better start talking.
5. I get more information than I ever wanted to know. AAAHHHH!

So that's the story, in a nutshell. All of his, um, 'issues', occurred before we were married, at least. You can imagine that I had some major trust issues with him, and that I, and my friends, punished him greatly for what he had done.

But before you think he's a total jerk, or that I'm CRAZZZY for marrying him, or start sending me messages that you think he's probably STILL cheating because zebras don't change their stripes, let me say this:

It took a lot of time and a lot of tears to mend our relationship. I still have little doubts that creep into my head when it's too quiet. But if you've read any of my previous posts, you know that he HAS changed his ways and is a kind husband and a wonderful father.

When we married, we both knew it was forever. Neither of us has any intention of going anywhere. I went into this knowing what I was up against, and I love him and trust him. We have made it work, and we are happy today.

However, I'm not stupid, so there is also an understanding about what will happen if WERE to ever cheat in our marriage, and he knows I mean it and he doesn't even like to think about what would happen.

So Frema, now I'll bet you're sorry you asked that one!

Questions are done...I've got all kinds of crazy baby stories for you tomorrow!

Questions - Part Seven

I'm really excited, because today I shall answer questions in which I can escape (at least in writing) my present world, which consists mostly of grilled cheese sandwiches, exhaustion, and poop. And, for all of you who are interested in knowing, I GOT MY MEDS TODAY!

annrebieb asked: What are your top five, if you ever had the chance, things you'd like to do:

1. Well, if you disregard the fact that I'm TERRIFIED of flying (and I haven't even seen "Snakes on a Plane"), I would want to travel to Europe. Tops on my list: Greece, Italy, and France. I would want to do the typical tourist-y stuff first, and then live there for a while to really experience the culture (yes, I stole that from you, annrebieb...but it's true!). You know, forget all my American hang-ups, like shaving my armpits and stuff.

2. Take a nice, long cruise. I've been on one little "mini-cruise", and it was fun, but I want to do the "real" thing one of these days, preferably to somewhere very tropical, with unlimited margaritas and without children.

3. Visit the Titanic wreckage. I think I know just about all there is to know about the Titanic disaster and this would be the icing on the cake (I am a dork...oh, and Mrs. S, sorry about the cake and icing reference)! And yes, I'm talking about the wreckage that is 2 miles down on the ocean floor and you have to take a teeny, tiny, dangerous submarine trip to see it. So I'd also have to disregard my little issue with claustrophobia. I have a lot of issues, you think?

4. Lose my inhibitions and be the life of the party! I admit that I worry waaaay too much about what people think of me. I also have accepted that I can only think up witty and clever comebacks twenty minutes after the fact. I cling to the people I know at parties. I do NOT dance. I know that it takes me awhile to warm up to new people and be brave enough to show my real (friendly!) self. I've accepted all these things as my personal truths, as Oprah would say, but STILL...just once, I'd like to put ALL those things aside and just "let it all hang out" (for lack of a better term). Oh wait...maybe "extrovert" is the word I'm looking for. Or, "Be Like My Friend Donna". But whatever.

5. I would like to lose 60 pounds. Okay, that probably isn't an answer that you were looking for with this question. But my weight is an all consuming issue for me, and I'd like to just prove to myself, for once in my life, that I do have some dignity and self control, and I CAN get the weight off and keep it off. I'd look better and feel better all around. Because it's never good when you've actually gone to Oprah.com and looked into nominating yourself for the "I've Let Myself Go!" episode of Oprah.

gigi asked: If you'd never married or had kids, what would you be doing now?

I would be thin and well rested. And have my acrylic nails back. All right, really:

In my fantasies: Single, living a laid back hippie lifestyle in Flagstaff, Arizona, visiting cool bars at night and selling handmade scrapbooks and cakes by day. I would take pottery classes, and I'd also learn how to make my own jewelry. I would wear really beautiful and dangly handmade earrings and bracelets while hanging out in Sedona pondering the meaning of life, getting a weekly massage, and taking vortex tours. And I would not own a watch or an alarm clock. You didn't know I was that odd, did you?

Realistically: I'd probably still be teaching in my old school district, living in my own little adorable apartment where I'd have a pink bathroom with marabou fur on the shower curtain (shout out to my friend A! You know who you are, with your cute little single girl bathroom!). I'd also probably be sitting in that charming apartment alone every night, because I would hate having to Date.

So there you go! Final round tomorrow!

Questions - Part Six

I must first post a disclaimer: This week, besides my regular babysitting job for the 3 month old and my own two children under age three, I've got a scrapbook to make for someone, three cakes to decorate, a funeral to attend, and my doctor still hasn't called me back about my anti-anxiety medication.

SO...if my blogging is sporadic this week, or totally boring, or just does not make any sense, BLAME THE ANXIETY. But I'll give it my best shot. I'm going to answer a few more questions from my ever growing list of questions from you all!

Kyndal asked: What did your mother do when you were a kid that you swore you would never do to your own kids? And do you do that thing?

Um, a list would be the best format for this answer. Here are a few of the things my mom did that I swore I would never do.

1. I will NEVER take my child to "grown up parties", staying late into the night, making my children go to sleep in guest beds while listening to all the "grown ups" having fun out in the living room.

2. I will NEVER absentmindedly reply "mmm-hmm" while my children are trying to tell me Terribly Important Things. I will listen and give a thoughtful reply.

3. I will NEVER resort to punishing out of anger, i.e. yanking ears, baring my teeth and making my lips disappear, swatting at any reachable body part in the backseat while I am driving.

And to answer the second part of your question? YES, I do every single one of those things. I can't help it. It must be genetic.

However, another thing my mom did that I said I'd never do was send Organic Fruit Leather in the lunchbox (instead of Fruit Roll Ups like the other kids) or try to pass off carob chips from the Whole Foods Store as chocolate chips...

...and I HAVEN'T!! Because friends, when it comes to food, my children will only have the REAL, WHOLE FAT, NAME BRAND THING. FROM WALMART. Because I'm serious about my food. Seriously.

One of Frema's questions (and I'll get to the rest later) was: What rules / parenting methods do you hold as non-negotiable?

Well, my husband and I have the same EXPECTATIONS of our children. We do not usually get the actual desired result, but since they are 2 and 3, I will cut them a LITTLE slack.

One of the earliest methods we both agreed on was We Will Not Rock Our Kids To Sleep. Now that is not to say that we didn't rock, cuddle, sing, and read at bedtime, but after the bedtime routine (and there is a ROUTINE), we have always put them in their beds, kissed them and said "Night-night!", and shut the door. And as a result (or because we got lucky), we have two children who will go to sleep by themselves, usually before 8:00. Woo hoo!

We also believe in teaching our children:

-no talking back or arguing.

-being respectful to their elders.

-no hitting.

-sitting still and being respectful in church, restaurants, and school.

-we also believe in spankings and time outs, and would like to only use both methods with love and only when absolutely necessary.

Now that I've stated all of our lovely, flowery ideals, let me get one annoying little detail out of the way...we've not exactly SUCCEEDED in accomplishing all of these things. But we're going to keep at it for approximately sixteen more years. IF the children don't kill us first.

And, if you ever actually see me and my children out in public, you'd probably wonder if it was my other personality that wrote all that stuff about "children behaving, sitting still, being respectful, blah, blah, blah." But I swear! We're trying!

Donna asked: Tell me about your last "bad wife and mother" moments and how you handled them.

DONNA! There are too many! Where will I start????

Most recent bad mother moment:

G and L were begging me to push them on the swing set, and I kept saying, "In a minute, in a minute!", because I was reading my book, and then it got to be time to start supper, and I told them to "Go play!" and then it was bath time, and it got dark, and I never did push them on the swing. I felt - and still feel - awful about it.

I have one bad mother moment after another all day long, and I just move on quickly and resolve to try and do better tomorrow.

Most recent bad wife moment:

Watching a tape of Young and the Restless and eating ice cream in bed while my husband stood next to me folding mounds of neglected laundry.

Again, one bad wife moment after another, but for some reason, he puts up with me!

Because seriously, my head is not screwed on right

Okay. I'm not done with questions yet. I totally missed the boat on "Fat Friday". I just can't get it together, people!

So I've just decided to send out some random, non-sensical, silly little bits of craziness. Because I have started, and then deleted, no less than five blog entries this weekend. I just can't FOCUS.

You know when I said in that last post, about me being good at multi-tasking? Well, that depends on exactly how you define "good at". If you mean I start taping off the baseboards to paint the bathroom, and then realize suddenly that we're out of milk and I must go to Wal-Mart AGAIN, so I go, and then when I come back I start painting the trim in the bathroom, and then realize CRAP, I need to water the plants as they are looking dead, and then I realize I'm out of my crazy pills (anti-anxiety meds, no hard core stuff as of yet) and I better call in a refill so I don't GO BONKERS, and then I start returning other phone calls to friends who've left messages, and then I realize that I LEFT THE DAMN PAINT OPEN and it's all stringy? Then YES! I am ABSOLUTELY good at multitasking!

So anyway. The random bits, in no particular order.

A few days ago, G came up to me and said, "Are you being a GOOD mommy today?". I replied, "I'm trying, G. Are you being a good boy today?". "Some," he said. Good answer G. Because if you'd said "yes", I would have to send you to time-out for being dishonest.

Since I'm still gaining weight at the rate of about 1/2 pound a week (no I'm not exaggerating, and no, I'm not pregnant), I have made the switch from REAL SUGAR to SPLENDA in my coffee. I bet that has totally been my problem ALL ALONG. Why, yes, I am in denial, thank you for asking! Now pass the ice cream. Amen.

Speaking of not being pregnant, when I rock my children at night and then they are all serene and peaceful and angelic, I WANT ANOTHER BABY. God help me, they're just going to have to quit sleeping so I don't go and do something insane. Oh wait. Not sleeping would not be good, either. Never mind. There are not a lot of *relations* going on in this house anyway...no worries!

I got to give a plastic baby doll the Heimlich Maneuver over the sink a few days ago, as my daughter had crammed a wet, partially chewed vitamin in the doll's mouth, and L was very distressed that the baby didn't "wallow" (swallow). I totally saved her - I ROCK!

Every where we go, my newly potty-trained daughter insists on yelling, "I have to PEE!" until I give in and take her to yet ANOTHER 'new' bathroom, where she ends up releasing exactly four drops of pee. On my last Walmart visit, I decided that mama's DONE playing that game, and knowing she had gone just before we left the house, I IGNORED HER PEE DEMANDS...

...and I paid the price, because just as I was closing in on the last item on my list, she stood up in the back of the cart, squatted, and peed, right in front of God and Walmart shoppers. I saw what she was about to do and actually said, "NO! Stop! STOP IT NOW!" and attempted to shield the whole scene with my body, while my 3 year old son watched her with a look of horror, disgust, and admiration.

And then I ran up to a deli worker and said, "My daughter had, um, a little, um, accident by the donuts...yeah, where you see the miniature kleenex lying on the floor," and then we got the hell out of there.

Also, please keep in mind that in order to keep four grubby little paws from destroying / opening everything in my cart, I put a lot of stuff on that bottom rack underneath the cart. So, husband! Don't worry! I totally wiped off the box of danish with my handy mini-pack of Kleenex!

So there you go - random bits. I'll get myself all back together by Tuesday, hopefully! Everybody have a fun weekend!