Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Pees and Q's

Recently Kylee has been asking questions NON STOP!!! Here are a few from the last 12 hours.
1.       What makes lightening?
a.       I realize this was probably taught to us in Jr. High school or possibly even *cringe* elementary and I failed to obtain the information. Sorry daughter, let’s Google shall we?!
2.       Where is Icarly’s mom?  
a.       I don’t care! I don’t care! I don’t care!!!
b.      Almost ALL kid shows are lacking parents…. Hmmmmm…..Subliminal messages? I think so!
3.       Why is Justin Beiber’s favorite color purple?
a.       Do you think mommy knows this kid? Do you think that Bieber and I have a secret relationship where we discuss the arts, favorite books, travel, and favorite colors? No, I presume he is gay and THAT is why it is his favorite color. (I didn’t really tell her he is probably in the closet – She will grow out of her obsession before that even matters – hopefully…)
4.       Is it kissing if you don’t touch lips?
a.       I actually DO know the answer to this. I said, No, it is only kissing if the lips touch.. So she then asks….
5.       Then what’s it called?
a.       What is what called? If the lips don’t touch? I don’t know, sweetie. Oh just tell me! I really don’t know what that would be called… *sigh – eyes roll*
6.       Do tornadoes bite?
a.       Seriously.
7.       Why can’t our house be made of pizza and chocolate?
a.       That would be smelly….AND delicious.
8.       Why do you have to wear your shoes on the right feet?
a.       Because
9.       Why can’t I just sleep in the car?
a.       We haven’t g that low yet
10.   Can I cut my eye lashes off?
a.       Sure
11.   Why can’t Logan wear makeup too?
a.       Because he is a boy. (to which she replies that the mad hatter in Alice In Wonderland wears makeup – confusion)

I’m sure there are plenty more questions that my brain has selectively removed for the sake of preserving some of my sanity. But answers to Kylee’s questions often times do not even exist.  BECAUSE is never acceptable, something always has a name, and I DO NOT KNOW ticks her off. The other night, out of mere curiosity, I decided to count how many questions Kylee asked from the moment I picked her up to the moment she went to bed…. I stopped counting at 73. NO JOKE! I should have written every single one down and regret not doing so for this blog’s sake. I am happy she has an inquisitive little mind. I feel that the more information I give her, the dumber I become. (No comment needed) Moving right along.

I peed on myself. That’s right. I peed on myself. Not because something was so hysterical; But because my children have corrupted my body both mentally and physically to the point of uncontrollable bodily functions. This past week I have been battling some type mixed disease containing a shot of allergy attacks + hint of flu and douse exhaustion. This sickness causes me to cough violently until a lung or urine comes out. Coughing like I have emphysema never used to affect me this way. But apparently birthing two children shifted some major internal parts that hold your pee in while you cough and/or sneeze. That’s right, sneezing too! My reaction to any type of reflux now is to hold myself! Like my hand can keep the pee from coming out. Works so far. Another question of Kylee’s: Why do you hold yourself when you cough? – To which I answer, because you and Logan ruined my body! Just kidding! I didn’t tell her that. I just thought it in the privacy of my own mind.

I know I am all over the place with this blog and I apologize. I hope you aren’t getting dizzy. I reactivated my Facebook this week. I took a hiatus for a while just to get off the social networking ride. But it is nice to be back and see what everyone is up to. I realized without Facebook, it is hard to be a good friend. So far, an old co worker friend of mine had a baby, a girlfriend got an awesome new car for graduation, another friend got engaged. I’m glad I’m back.

Kylee and I have been working on this $^&#* Hello Kitty puzzle for a week now and I am seriously about to teach Kylee how to give up gracefully. I don’t think this puzzle can be done! First of all, it’s a Lenticular puzzle. Do you know what these are? If not, imagine taking 10 shots of tequila then riding The Tony Hawk ride at Six Flags. It’s one of those puzzles when you move your head, the picture changes… So it is basically 2 puzzles in 1. Therefore one piece has two completely different pictures on it depending on if you move your head to the left or right. So last night, Kylee asked me to help her again with this impossible thing. Twenty minutes pass before I realize Kylee isn’t even helping me!!! She is watching Icarly!!!!!! I asked her if she was going to help me or what and her response was, I AM helping! She pretends to help by picking up pieces and not even attempting to make them fit! Now I am dizzy and mad for being suckered into this. Then all the sudden I am desperately trying to remember WHO bought her this God-forsaken gift so I can personally send them a thank you note with Anthrax in it! Needless to say we did not complete it last night. It is sitting on the dining room table. There will be no meals at this table until it is finished! Even if I have to do it while she is at her dad’s this weekend. Sad or obsessive?


Dear friends, family and potential enemies,

PEE. S (ha, get it?)
Sorry for being all over the place. I appreciate you reading!

Friday, May 20, 2011

The new "Normal"

When will it all be normal again? – Kylee
How do you answer this to a 4 year old? What is normal to a 4 year old? What she had before, was that “normal”? If so, no, I pray it will never be normal again. I get what she means. She is tired of walking up and down stairs to her home. She is tired of sharing her room. She is tired of the back and forth. She is tired of not having a back yard. She wants a puppy, she wants her mommy, and she wants her daddy. Now that is normal for wanting all of these things. Heck I would prefer not to walk a flight of stairs daily with groceries and a toddler in tow.
 I try very hard to make this transition as simple and easy for her as possible. For the most part, she has been amazing at adjusting to life’s crap. But there is no way around the fact that it will never be her version of normal again. All types of finality hold hands with anxiety. Anxiety of the unknown or the pure….finality of it. It makes the parenting thing a little stickier. For instance, when she buries her pouty face in the sofa and gives me the silent treatment (which I kinda like, so HA, jokes on you sista!) because I gave her the purple cup and I should have known she was thinking the pink cup and melts down completely… I pause and wonder, is this typical 4 year old tantrum or is it the product of a broken home? Her dad and I have extended a lot of grace towards her in this area and yesterday, she did something that meant so much to me. She asked me why my voice sounded so funny and I explained that I was getting sick. She immediately hugged me and consoled me, prayed for me and pampered me. As much as 4 year old can. But then she got up, started picking up the living groom and playroom/dining room. I watched her and when she was finished I said thank you so much and asked her why she did that voluntarily? She said “because sometimes you need a break too and you’re sick mommy.”
She used to come home from her dad’s and it was like I was being given a new robot toy with no features programmed to the hard drive. I would have to tweak, turn and import all the basics features of a young sassy child that I was certain she had when she left. I realize now this was just typical behavior for a child learning to be with her parents separately. Testing boundaries and exploring new techniques. But now, she usually comes back BETTER than when she left. She has a very strong bond with her daddy and I am happy that I can still use the threat  technique of “I will tell your daddy” and she panics like I am threatening to throw her off the I-30 bridge in rush hour traffic. And get this, IT WORKS! I tell the Ex, he says he will handle it, and he does. Or so it appears so in her behavior when she returns.
I am coming down with the creeping-epa-zoodi  which means our jam packed weekend will be completed with little to no energy from mama and abundance of energy dripping from the kids. Since my children love to see the sunrise, we typically wake up at 6am, even on Saturdays. So we will have plenty of time to get our daily dose of Icarly, Spongebob Dumb Pants, and Olivia before we need to hit the road. A couple of kid birthday parties, trip to target, the bank, church ministry, church, another trip to Target just cause, and if the weather allows, some fun time at the park. My theory on being sick with kids is to stay busy. Don’t let your body slow down enough to realize it is in need of rest. HA, rest. It just sounded funny. Sure, come Sunday night I will probably feel like Gumby and most likely need a box of wine to induce the Thera-flu effects. Oh well, it will still be a blast. I want to thank my girlfriend Stewie for having her son’s party between 3-5.That is the perfect time frame. It is well past the lunch/nap time, close to dinner time and a perfect way to exert their energy before the evening begins. Bravo Stewie!  
Nothing stinks more then when a mom throws the birthday party smack dab in the middle of nap time. I get that your child is on no type of schedule or maybe you have given up completely on making your child take a nap, but my children without a nap are like gremlins if you feed them past midnight. They become mischievous, dangerous and seem to multiply and bounce off the walls and create a scene that you will need bleach, Pin sol and a mop to clean up. This mini-rant was completely unprovoked and uncalled for, I realize this. I just wanted to mention it, in case anyone reading this thinks of inviting us to a party between the hours of 11-2pm because my RSVP will be nope 
(With Nap)
(NO nap)
(please notice the gingerbread man's head is missing...I would be that gingerbread man)

So, my answer to her question, “When will it ever be normal again?” I say, nothing is really ever normal. We are creating our own normal, and it works. Our circumstances will change constantly. Some will be pleasant, some not so pleasant. But we are still a family, in our own normal way.

When Kylee checked my forehead for a fever, she told me my face stunk… I asked her what is smelled like and she said “horrible” and I couldn’t help but laugh. All this time we were blaming Logan for that smell when it was my stinky forehead!! Good to know!

Happy weekend everyone!

Thursday, May 19, 2011

The eyes on my child go round and round, round and round, round and round

I had another blog all typed up and edited up about how my previous posts while they funny and very true, they are not an accurate portrayal of how I honestly feel about being a momma. But I deleted it. The junk I write is ½ true, ½ exaggerated. I know you’re probably thinking Great, now we really can’t trust a think that comes out of that mouth now?! But I wanted to make sure that whoever is wasting their presumably valuable time reading my invaluable posts aren’t misconstruing what I really mean.  Being a mom is tough work. Being a single mom, is even tougher work, sometimes. My many jokes about the roller coaster of motherhood are true, but I want to clarify that I wouldn’t change it. I love it. I honestly do love the stickiness, smelliness, filthiness, poopiness, unorganizenedness, chaosness, headachness, huggable, snuggable, kissiness, rewardable ups and downs of this ride. True statement! The stories I tell are true and based on actual events. That is what this blog is supposed to be about. The adventures of single parenting and the miscellaneous extras I might have time to include. So, again, I had every intention on justifying what I write about, explaining myself, possibly defending myself, or whatever else is politically correct here. But I have way too much new material to vent about here.  Please continue reading and following me, but know that being Kylee and Logan’s mama is by far the best thing I have ever done or will ever do!
Now, if Kylee rolls her big blue eyes at me ONE.MORE.TIME I am going to strap her to a wooden chair and tape her eyes open like they did to Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory and dare her to do it again.
I realize this maddening habit of hers is inherited from me. I roll my eyes 123,698 times per day. But I do it when the guy in front of me at the bank has to send the tube up 3 times, you got it right, THREE times. GO INSIDE BUDDY! Or when the only person in the world who still uses actual checks AFTER banks stopped honoring Post Dated checks, gets in the Express Lane at the grocery store. I, of course have my two nin-ca-poops threatening to make a scene if we don’t leave ASAP.  Or when Kylee tells me she forgot to go potty and we need to stop somewhere, I get stuck behind the mid life crisis guy driving something turbo charged full of GT something or other but won’t exceed 38 mph in a 45 zone. I do NOT; however roll my eyes when my mom tells me to please put her my shoes in the closet to avoid the inevitable dilemma the following morning of I CAN’T FIND MY SHOES! Did you put them in the closet like I asked you to yesterday? NO! Why not? Because. Because is not an answer. Do you know where they are mom? NO! Then I guess I won’t wear shoes today. Gah, fine I’ll help you find them! This happens WTF (Wednesday Thru Friday) which is probably more of an indication that I need to have more consistency in my discipline, but we are talking about her not me. But seriously, what is it about those eyes? I want to snatch them right out of the sockets! Because she gets to eye rollin, then I start eye rollin, eventually we will have Logan eye rollin at us eye rollin at one another and the entire household environment will be compromised and we can’t have that.
The other night, I took this frozen meatloaf experiment out of the freezer and put it in that oven thing. I made instant mashed potatoes and mixed veggies. Logan was the only one who was impressed with the meatloaf. I knew Kylee would turn her nose up to it because it wasn’t a small nugget of chicken and Trans fat. Being the short order cook that I am, I had one of those mini pizza’s on hand and decided to make that for the eye rolling princess of apartmentville. Apparently I really suck at cooking or this pizza was generic and on sale for a reason because even I wouldn’t have eaten that or the dog, if we had one. So, I pull from the menu of few items Kylee will actually eat, and quite frankly didn’t feel like making anything else or heating anything else up. Then princess Rolls-A-Lot suggested cereal. DING DING DING we have a winner. So I rolled my eyes and we both had Cinnamon Toast Crunch while Logan had a well balanced meal. WIN!
Later that evening we had a pillow fight in the living room, watched Mary Poppins and took turns tickling Logan and rolling our eyes at him. Overall, we had a great and partially nutritional night with little to no issues……Until I decided to let Kylee sleep with me…. We were watching a movie in bed, I was dozing off, and the TV got really loud. I looked at her, looking at me, wondering if I realized she just turned the TV up from 35-55…. I asked her to turn it down; she of course, rolled her eyes, then pulled my hair.
We discussed her less than awesome attitude the past couple days. She insists she wasn’t pulling my hair, that she was just playing with my hair because she knows I love that… Clever Kylee. Real clever! I called her bluff; we attempted to have a talk about my expectations, being good, being bad and all the consequences and benefits in between… We got halfway through the talk before I realized we were both rolling our eyes at each other… 
 I think Logan goes to Time-Out voluntarily to get away from it all. See?

Friday, May 13, 2011

The Tantrum

I have to say, there are probably a handful of people you will meet in your life who will absolutely get you. And I am not talking about the friends who just accept you for all your quirks, hang-ups, short comings. Not that. I mean the kind that totally GET YOU, and there is nothing more comforting than this type of friend. The friend who isn’t afraid to tell you your rear end has never looked bigger in those jeans, so take them off or we aren’t going to be seen together. Or, did you mean for your makeup to look like Hatchet Face’s? Ya know, the honest friends who never silence their voice. We don’t have to put a filter on our thoughts, we can say what we want and know there will be no judgment or eye rolling going on. The inappropriateness, social awkwardness that dribbles out of my mouth is truly accepted by this friend and I am grateful for it. I can’t divulge details of our typical conversations, because quite frankly, you will judge us, and probably have some sort of eye spasm from rolling them so much. I will spare you the ER bill and eye doctor visit.

Moving on to the only topic I seem to talk about in this rarely viewed blog. The kids. I’m gonna start calling them the Rascals, because the anxiety I feel whenever I see that movie mirrors the way my rascals tend to make me feel on a nightly basis. Which, I hear is normal.  An.E.Way, I picked the rascals up from daycare and greeted with “Logan has been really fussy today.” Magic words any mother loves to hear after a 10 hour day. But there is hope for me yet. It is the Ex’s night with them so I just have to survive the next hour as opposed to the next 4 hours.  I did not anticipate what the next hour had in store for me. Logan transformed into some red faced villain baby from hell. Kylee and I instantaneously look at each other and just knew we were in for it. Remember that game at Putt-Putt where you throw balls into the big clown’s mouth and anytime you missed she taunted you with threats and insults? That is usually how Logan is. FEED ME! FEED ME! So Kylee tried to help by getting him fruit snacks, crackers, fruit roll ups, wine, milk, nothing worked.  Step 1: I picked him up and he slapped me like a pimp slaps his employees. Step 2: I put him down; he wails at me and reaches his arms to be picked up. Repeat step 1. Step 3: He goes to the time out corner, and leaves the time out corner. He wins. Step 4: Mommy goes to the time out corner, Kylee joins me. Step 5: Logan follows us to the time out corner – still crying FOR.NO.REASON. Repeat step 1 (again). My face hurts. Mommy is about to put her head in the oven. ICarly music playing loudly. Kylee please turn that down. But I can’t hear over my little BOTHER. - Thanks Olivia. (And if you don’t understand that last part, you are lucky) Just turn it down, it is over stimulating mommy. I’m over steamy too! –Kylee.

75 deep breaths later, the crying has not stopped and neither has ICarly or the non-stop Justin Beiber commercials at which Kylee is dancing, singing and whipping her hair to. Yes, whipping her hair back and forth. Thanks Willow Smith for teaching her this.  I am crunched down in a corner, knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. Thoughts in my head: Where is the Ex? It’s only been 15 minutes?? Crappity Crap Crap!, 45 minutes left….I am totally gonna buy that Bieber movie – wait no, I will not be brainwashed! Ok, yes I will. No I won’t! Dang she whips her hair like a pro. Note to self: Get Kylee to quit whipping her hair. Where is the Ex already? Dang it’s only been 18 minutes now. 42 minutes left. What is that smell? Where are ICarly’s parents? What did I just step in? How much longer now? GAHHHH!


Finally, the Ex shows up to get the rascals, I have already warned him that something has crawled up Logan’s caboose, and exploded. However, the second he shows up, Logan stops crying and is hunky flippin’ dory. The evil spirit that took over my precious son’s body fled the moment I opened the door. I guess that was an exclusive performance just for me and Kylee. Thanks son. Have a good weekend with your dad; mommy needs a cocktail and a hot bath.
I plan on having a love affair with comet, bleach and Pin-sol this weekend. I realize there is something wrong with the level of excitement I get from putting my hands in toilets. But knowing that the rascals won’t be standing over me while I do it, trying to eat the toxic cleansers, or offering to “help” is just exciting to me. I can’t explain it and I don’t have to. So there.
Enjoy your weekend peeps!

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Belated Mother's Day Post - I know I'm lame-no need to point!!

Whoops-a-daisy! I totally skipped over my Mother’s Day Review Post. I realized I was the only one who didn’t at least acknowledge my Mother’s Day in the Blog World. When you’re a single mom, the gifts we really want are automatically forfeited.  Gifts like sleeping in, breakfast in bed, a nap, hot bubble bath, relaxation, the right to camouflage into the couch and not fold a single towel, match any socks, do absolutely no chores of any kind. Well, these things aren’t just sacrificed on M’s Day, they are generally nonexistent Sunday - Monday so therefore this special day becomes a little less special and a lot more like a Tuesday. Don’t get me wrong. I am not complaining. Not me. No sir-ee. I am not a whiner.  I am just defending my neglect to this Hallmark holiday. Speaking of Hallmark, when did the price for cards go from $1.09 to $3.99 and up? Are we seriously buying decorated cardboard with someone else’s manufactured sentiments printed on them? The answer, YES. And Hallmark has us by the baseballs here because what kind of mother, daughter, aunt, sister or friend would you be if you didn’t buy them a card?! For me personally, I would prefer a grande vanilla latte from starbucks over the cheesy McSqueezy Hallmark card designed to make your mascara run down your face. But I appreciate the cards, nonetheless. It’s the thought that counts after all…Just wish someone would have thought of a Target gift card. (Hint for next year peeps)
I was pleasantly surprised when Kylee gave me a vase of flowers from the ex MIL. I was certain she had an elite club specifically for plotting my demise. Anytime I stub my toe I am fairly certain it’s a result of negative thoughts being sent out in the universe about me, by her. I bought her a card prior to receiving those flowers because hey, let’s face it, she is a mom of 7, she has lost a son, she has a successful marriage which ain’t easy, and aside from how we feel towards each other now, I still love her. Of course, Hallmark makes a card for Mother from Kids, Mother from daughter, Mother from son, Mother from cousin, Mother from cat, Mother from dog. But they do NOT make a card from ex daughter in law who you wish would either take her son back or fall of the face of the earth and BTW you are ruining my grandchildren’s lives, but Happy Mother’s Day anyway card. So I opted for a blank one.
I had my usual Mexican standoff with Kylee on Sunday morning before church, and debated whether or not a blue shirt would match her purple tights. In my efforts to not have her walking out of the house looking like Punky Brewster, I have successfully earned the title of control-freak-mommy who worries too much about what others say about my daughter’s Ramona Quimby style choices. I guess it wouldn’t have been the end of the world if I just let her wear those size 2T shorts that she sometimes dresses her Baby Alive in, or the shirt from last summer that is so old and worn out that it now says My eart be ongs to y addy. (My Heart Belongs to My Daddy) I am not a total loser mom either, I bought her some new summer clothes from Target, that way she can match every.single.kid at the playground because let’s be real here, all the cool mom’s shop at Target, right? At what age does it become offensive to be caught at the same play date or playground wearing the same shorts and matching top as the other kid? It’s not age 4… We ended up coming to some agreement about her ensemble, I don’t remember what it was but I am pretty sure she was more of the winner than I was. It was a win by default because at some point I throw my hands up in the air (not the Miley Cyrus way) and say WEAR WHATEVER YOU WANNA WEAR, JUST BE AT THE DOOR READY TO GO IN 2 MINUTES! Ah! Caramba!!! (side note – Dora did NOT teach me this one) Needless to say, I can lose my religion in a hot minute getting the kids ready for church. Happy Mother’s Day!
Kylee had quite the collection of pictures, artwork and crafty flowers for me which are proudly displayed on my fridge. We took an intermission after church so the kids could nap, a.k.a Mommy can watch Real Housewives of Orange County. Then we headed off to my mom’s house for more Mother’s Day fun!
My sister, let me preface by saying I think she is a wonderful mother. She has a turd face of an ex husband who creates more stress than that indoor playground at the mall on a rainy Saturday. It should come as no shock to you that sometimes Kylee can be dramatic, demanding, difficult and stubborn. My sister seems to think she can fix my child in one weekend. First and foremost, Kylee is not a weekend fixer-upper type child. With any hope, by the time she is in her 20’s we can write off her psychologist bill as a business expense of some sort. I am truly at my wits end with the idea that A) Kylee is the one who needs fixing when it is clearly her mother who has the Joan Crawford complex! And B) since when did you have all the answers to parenting? Your approach to wanting to fix my baby makes me want to square up with you and hit you in the forehead a sock of quarters. OK, I feel I must let you all know how much my sister means to me. She is my best friend and if any one tries to mess with her I will go moon bat crazy on them! But seriously, Mother’s Day consisted of continual dissertations about what her son did yesterday and how she disciplined him and made him into the perfect child, yes, overnight. Now I know she probably didn’t mean for it to come off as annoying as it did. Her intentions were probably not to make me want to pull my hair from their follicles, but I did, want to. But I had a quiet chuckle of victory when I got to witness her parenting techniques fail epically time after time that day. This is not a dig at her as a mom by any means. It is simply my way of suggesting that maybe you don’t have all the answers. That maybe you can’t fix my child in 2 days. Maybe you have a normal 2 year old who pouts when he is told NO, or disobeys you just cause, or doesn’t listen to a thing you have to say…But it’s ok…this is normal 2 year old behavior. We have the same parenting styles, just different kids!!! So please, just worry about your child, not mine. Oh, by the way, your perfect child who always eats whatever you tell him to eat, just spit his carrots all over the floor. No worries though, Logan ate them.   
On a side note, this entry will definetely tell me if my sister really is reading my blogs....
All in all, Mother’s day was not relaxing like it was designed to be, but when we got home from my mom’s, I put Logan to bed and Kylee and I snuggled in my bed and watched Bambi together. She told me she never wants me to die like Bambi’s mom…. Well dear, neither do I. Happy Mother’s Day!
I added a few pictures of my Mother’s Day. My sister is the one with the short hair. Her child is the perfect one. What? You can’t tell from a picture? Ok.
Kylee and Perfect McPerfectson

Perfect McPerfectson with Perfect McMommy

(From left to right)
Logan, Me, Kylee, KC, Mason

My son makes me so proud!

If it makes him this happy, pick away!

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

For the Mommas!

What is it about Mondays that make my children go bananas? Why am I always out of milk, eggs and bread on Mondays? Why do I always remember I am out of these things after I pick up the kids? Why do I always forget to take something out for dinner Monday morning? Why does Logan scream like a wild Banshee the second I put him in his car seat? Why does Kylee feel she deserves candy for being good?
I love her creative way of warning me before we enter the store that she can and will make this trip to Kroger a trip to hell if I don’t give her an incentive for being good? Like it is an option for her or something. I always say a quick prayer before entering….anywhere with the kids… The store, church, post office, Target, the bank, my mom’s, our apartment… Anywhere there are people. I pray that in the event that the children get a wild hair up their arse that I will have the patience not to end up on the 6 o’clock news.  So far, so good.
Let me just say thank you to whoever invented those miniature shopping carts that whack me in the Achilles tendon because the driver of the cart can’t pay attention and browse all the sugar filled- strategically placed at eye level junk, and pay attention at the same time. Logan is so over being trapped in a cart, btw. So I play the eat this, play with this, drink this game until he chooses to stand up and tries leap 3 shelves down out of the cart. Oy Vey! Aren’t 18 month olds so fun?! As I am navigating 1 child from ramming the old lady in the canned food aisle, distracting the other child from plummeting to his demise my cell phone was going off nonstop! Each call got worse and worse. It was all work related, and from my previous post, you know that I talk to many people whose IQ is equivalent to a snapping turtle. The frustration level is rising, and my arm pits have begun sweating and my deodorant is kicked into overdrive. All grocery stores need to create a MOMMY AISLE which would naturally consist of the following:
·         Wine
·         Samples of wine
·         A baby sitter
·         Milk
·         Eggs
·         Cheese
·         Bread
·         Tampons
·         conditioner
·         Fruit snacks, gushers and fruit roll ups
·         Capri suns
·         Chicken nuggets
·         Easy Mac N’ Cheese
·         Advil, Tylenol and IB profin
·         Butt paste
·         Ground beef
·         Chicken breast
But seriously, why haven’t the grocery store chains created a small playroom where we can drop our tykes off while we do our shopping? We all know what the childless shoppers think of us when we bring our germy rambunctious kids in with us. We can physically feel the irritation radiating off of you as our carts get closer. We know because believe it or not, we have come here without our brats a time or two in the past and the roles are quickly reversed. We can transform from the pitiful mother who has no control of her offspring to the judgy wudgy spectator in .25 seconds. Or is that just me? Sigh.
We finally finished up at the store, left with ½ of what was on my list and no dignity. I pop dinner in the oven the second we get home, because let’s face it; they are going to bed early! My metal tolerance for toddlerhood is being exercised at a very intense tempo.
Kylee can count up to 25, sometimes… But she can’t quite count how many of ME there actually are. She gives me way too much credit. I wish she thought less of me. HA! I pin Logan down and tickle him because his laugh fills my love tank up when I am running on fumes. I can’t hear it enough. Immediately, Kylee says in her oh so annoying toddler brat voice, Mommy, you NEVER play with me! Oh, my bad, did we not just play store where you were the shopper and I was the “buyer”? No, you’re right; I like to color in Princess Babrie coloring books in my spare time. That wasn’t “playing”, that was serious artistic expression. Chill out! There is only one of me Kylee, I have to play with you both. And since Logan still likes to eat Crayons, I can’t sit and color with you all night long. But you NEVER tickle me! Ya because you kick me like a donkey, scream, cry or laugh (not sure which) then run off to pout because YOU HATE TO BE TICKLED! Excuse me for respecting your wishes. You say, Don’t tickle me mommy, therefore I don’t tickle you, but I am supposed to interpret that as you want to be tickled, only when you see your brother being tickled? Ok, I am legitimately confused and there will be no more tickling going on in this house!! I love that amnesia doesn’t discriminate against just the elderly. Kylee has a severe case of it. I NEVER play with her, I NEVER cook anything good, I NEVER buy her anything, I NEVER let her help, I NEVER let her sleep with me, I NEVER get to watch my shows. I NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER…. If I NEVER play with you, then why am I exhausted? If I NEVER cook anything good, then why is your brother so plump? If I NEVER buy you anything, why am I broke and your shoe collection more up to date than mine? If I NEVER let you help then why are all my towels folded zig zagged? I didn’t know that was possible, but it is. If I NEVER let you sleep with me, then why do I have your foot in my back and crumbs in my bed? If I NEVER let you watch your shows, then why do I have every episode of Olivia memorized and the theme song to Ni Hao Kai Lan playing in my head all day long? You see, my dear sweet first born, what I NEVER do is sleep in, read a full chapter of a book uninterrupted, go to the bathroom ALONE, cook without wails of hungry cries, watch one of my shows without you sneaking out of bed to ask me a million questions, or finish a glass of wine before it gets warm. I’m not sure the radio in my car still works because your movies are the only thing playing! Don’t tell me this life is not orbiting around your needs and wants, because trust me, it is! While your amnesia for all I sacrifice for you is beneficial in your attempt to manipulate me into buying you gum, it is not conducive to my self esteem as a mother. So for crap’s sake stop it!
Life has taken me to a new world of exhaustion. I have realized that good intentions don’t guarantee good results. For instance, I have every intention of blow drying my hair, but at the end of the day I don’t have a drop of energy left for myself let alone my hair. A ponytail tomorrow isn’t the end of the world right? Right! I find very creative ways to justify my laziness too and I am worried. I am sure I could patent some of these ideas.. Hmmm. That’s something to think about when I have time to think. When will that be, Kylee?
But at the end of the day, the fatigue we mommas feel is like a badge of honor. If you ever worry if you are a good mom, check your exhaustion levels… If you don’t have an ounce of oomph left to pluck your uni-brow, blow dry your hair, give yourself a manicure, read a book without pictures, take a bath, exfoliate anything, shave your legs or make something from scratch, then you are doing a GREAT job! And as hard as it can be to give yourself some dang credit for how awesome you are at the single mom gig, the devote wife gig, or whatever your gig is, the bottom line is at the end of the day, your little fart knockers got a hot meal, roof over their head, a story and a bed to call their own, and that alone is worth a trophy or maybe a chocolate bar of some sorts. Good job fellow mommas out there!

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

A lil bit of this, a lil bit of that....

Have you ever allowed your child to do something, that you are certain is not going to end well, but for some unknown reason you decide go against your better judgment and allow it to happen? Then predictably, it breaks, spills, or bites his sister? I did this yesterday and I am convinced I do little things like this to insure I am still capable of predicting the future in such an unpredictable world.  I picked the kids up after work yesterday and I had a watered down, never tasted good in the first place large diet coke from Sonic. Anytime I have something in the cup holder, Kylee immediately declares ownership of whatever it is. This is the reason I stopped drinking rum and coke in the car. (Calm down, I’m kidding… I never stopped) Well Logan is at that ‘If she has it I want it and I will scream until I am triumphant’ stage. So of course, Kylee grabbed my her drink and immediately Logan saw something she had and initiated the ‘Give it to me now’ scream from hell. In my parenting defense, we do not give Logan everything he wants just because he launches the Bruce Lee shriek that can bust glass, herd billygoats, and confuse parrots. However, while in an automobile, Logan is the king and receives whatever he commands. Kylee and I are at peace with this injustice. I am sure as Logan gets older, my tolerance for bleeding ears will be minimized, but until that day comes, it is what it is. A good friend once told me, I will win the war, but not all the battles. I forfeit this battle to set my sights on winning the war. Don’t judge me!
So here is the scenario; Kylee grabbed the drink, took a sip, surrendered to Logan’s scream, which I am sure in baby talk could possibly be translated into “Kylee, may I please have a sip of that?” Now I know a lot of my fellow mommy readers are probably researching the harmful effects soda has on children and preparing to send me to a support group for unfit mothers and dialing CPS. Allow me to again defend my brainless actions as a mother. This diet coke was so watered down, they received for caffeine from their Flinstone Vitamins. So, against my better judgment (again), not because it was coke, but because I knew it was going to be spilled at some point, I allowed Kylee to give the king what he was demanding… In his defense, he managed not to spill it until we pulled in to the apartment. Take your victories where you can right? Somehow, hearing Logan’s little voice say, UH-OHHHH, is too cute to get mad about. It was mainly ice and apparently water with a splash of diet coke. No harm done. Going upstairs…..
I mentioned in a previous blog I would try and write more joyful things so I am going to brag on my amazing night with the kiddos last night. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. I began cooking the second I put my purse down, made them both something to drink before the demands could even be voiced aloud.  Kylee and Logan were playing together peacefully and more importantly, lovingly. I witnessed a sibling bond strengthen right before my eyes. Darn it! Why do I always have my hands in a bowl of raw meat when these happens? Then we taught Logan how to jump off of a step stool, Kylee and I wrote a song, I let Logan pour a cup of water on his head in the tub because it made him laugh, then Kylee and I painted our nails. All of this was done with minimal to no screaming, hitting, biting, kicking, whining, talking back, time outs and last but certainly not least, NO SPANKING!!! Now this is what I signed up for!
The good reports continue. I reconciled with one of the girlfriends I was referring to in a previous post. We met up last week, laid it all out on the table like thanksgiving dinner! In efforts to spare you the superfluous details, it was just bad timing all around. She was in a rough season of her life, I am continuously in rough seasons, and with that formula, words were said and received inaccurately, then words went unsaid that needed to be said. Her elevator was going up as mine was going down and we never caught each other on the same floor at the same time. Until last week. We declared our love for each other like a sappy romantic comedy. It was the old us again, and it felt great! She was lucky enough to have a pot head waiter with no car named Jody hit on her. FAIL! I think it is safe to say we will no longer be going to that On The Border again. Ah well. We went to see a movie the following night. I don’t know about my handful (literally) of readers, but I absolutely adore these Madea movies. I love how Tyler Perry portrays himself as Madea. Some of my favorites from Madea: I'm Madea. Muh to da damn D-E-A! Halalura, (hallelujah) Dinter,  (dinner) Chi-ren (children)  Hellerrr (hello). It is so endless, but this movie had us cracking up! WIN!
I started my week off in a funk. I am in sales and if you are in or have ever been in sales, it is exasperating to say the least. Constantly trying to win the approval of people who I am unquestionably smarter than; relentlessly competing with other ding-dongs who again, I am surely more experienced and knowledgeable than they are. We are told NO more than YES, we are in a never ending state of kiss ass, and by the end of the day you feel as though you have accomplished nothing…Or at least that is what your commission check is screaming at you. In between my failed sales calls, I still have to manage the existing business I have, by the grace of God received. Which also entails much of the same maddening techniques used to get the business; but in addition, talk to more jack holes then you could possibly fathom. Oh, and I have to do all of this with a painted smile on my face and perky voice while pretending I don’t want to personally tattoo the word IDIOT across their forehead with a dirty needle. I have perfected this over time and most of my customers believe I like them; which is partially true, sometimes. Now if I could just shake this permanent sigh that comes in 15 minute increments.
I would like to suggest to all fast food restaurant owners to please have a formal training on how to properly secure the lid to drinks. I believe the world would be a better place if this was implemented ASAP.
Oh, and RIP Osama Bin Laden!