The Bryan Kids 2014

The Bryan Kids 2014

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Santa brought me a tummy bug...

   Things Santa could have left in the North Pole...
1)Toys with lots of parts and pieces that I will never find again
2)The 10 lbs I have gained this year
3)The Angry Bird that is stuck to my living room ceiling
4)Oh...and the nastiest stomach bug I have had in a very long time

   Bright and early on December 26th, I awoke to discover that I was about to vomit.  Not a vomit like I have plenty of time to get to the bathroom vomit, but a vomit right where you are sitting because you had no idea it was about to happen vomit.  I puked all over my Mother in law's guest bed that the children and I were sleeping in.  When I went to sleep just a hour or so before, I had no idea this was about to happen.  I had taken TUMS for some heart burn earlier, but nothing serious.  As I sat in a puddle of my own "sick", I realized quickly where this was headed.

    You see, once I start to puke, I rarely stop easily.  So for the next 12 hrs, I was violently ill multiple times an the point of begging for my mommy.  And then the other end started.  We all have been at this point before.  Head in a bucket so that your bottom can be on the toilet.  It is never a good place to be.  I tried sipping some water, and it would come right back up.  I knew I needed some help.  I needed IV fluids and antiemetics, STAT.  After 10 years together, Mike also knew where this was headed.  We were off to the ER.  We left the kids with his mother, and headed to a nearby hospital.

   We discovered quickly that you do not want to be in the ER the day after Christmas.  That place was packed.  I laid in the fetal position on a love seat for 2.5 hours with my head in a bucket just waiting to be seen.  I understand...traumas and chest pain come first, but man is it hard to be gracious when you can't stop retching, and the waiting room TV is stuck on Divorce Court.

   Once I made it to the room, they quickly fixed me up with an IV and some Zofran. Of course, it took me a little while to convince the doc that I wasn't hungover or pregnant, despite the fever and diarrhea.  Now I am no ER doc, but I am pretty sure those are not symptoms of either pregnancy or over indulgence in alcohol. I looked at the young little resident and said,  "I have been pregnant twice in my life.  This is not pregnancy nausea.  Morning sickness is more like, Oh I think I need to vomit.  I feel really nauseous.  Then you do, and then you think an hour later, maybe I should have a cookie."  His response..."So you are sure you are not pregnant??"  I again replied "Listen, I am an L&D nurse.  I know pregnancy if nothing else.  I have an IUD in place and I have no reason to believe it isn't functioning, but feel free to test me.  We all know that nothing is 100%. Any time you hang your pants on the bed post, you can get pregnant, but I doubt that is my problem. It rarely causes fevers or diarrhea."  The resident says "Well, did you drink too much yesterday??" For the love of God...Seriously??  Mental note to check if the hospital is a teaching hospital next time.
     Life was getting better, but I was still pretty miserable.  In fact, it took another dose of Zofran and another 2 liters of fluid before I was convinced that I wasn't going to die...OK, I am exaggerating. I just wanted to die, I didn't think it would actually kill me.  As I lay there staring at the wall, I see the Crucifix above the door.  I roll over to Mike and say

Me "Ok, call the nurse.  I think I know what I need."
Mike (patient, but exhausted from dealing with his ill and very needy wife) "Really? What do you want me to tell him"
Me  "We need two priests and a nun..."
Mike "Heidi, you aren't Catholic.  What do you want? Last Rites??"
Me "No, I think we need an exorcism. Obviously modern medicine isn't cutting it this time, we need to purge the demon in my digestive tract."
Mike (shaking his head) "You must be feeling better..."
Me "I am serious, a little prayer couldn't hurt."

   We were discharged shortly after my revelation, and now I will never know if it would have helped.  Of course, in the end, the Zofran and IV fluids helped tons.  However, I may never be able to eat gingerbread houses and Italian food again without thinking about this stomach bug.  And I hope his mother has had someone come in and terminally clean that bathroom upstairs.  When I decided that I needed to lose weight after Christmas, this was not what I planned...

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Yep...that just happened

   As if every other day around here isn't a little crazy.  I tried to complete some errands and Christmas shop with both kids today.  I miss my stroller days.  Five point restraints are the best thing that happened to mothers everywhere.  Without my stroller, a tiny little dachshund sized shock collar would be my next best bet.  Molly never stops moving.  Ever. Period.  The child is enough to exhaust even a marathon runner (which I am not, I might add.)

   It all started with Colin's Christmas program at school.  Molly was simply not going to sit still.  It was painful.  I don't have a single video of them singing without Molly grabbing at my arm, begging to hold the camera, or simply attempting to sing along with them(which was actually pretty cute, if I hadn't been trying to keep her from running on stage the entire time.)  Parents watched me with a combination of sympathy and horror.  I hate that feeling.  That feeling like you have no idea what to do to make your own child stop doing what she is doing, and that you are at their complete mercy if you actually want to watch your other child sing.

   Of course, the nightmare did not end there.  I had to drive all the way to Buford to pick up my adorable, handmade owl hat that I had ordered for Molly.  It was going to take over an hour to get there.  Fabulous, but at least the DVD player can keep them entertained for a while in the car.  By the time we started to get close to our destination, Colin was asking if Molly's hat was in the "Lost City."  I have no idea exactly what he meant, so I simply agreed.  Then Molly asked where the "Lost City" was??  I replied that it must be in Canada :)  No offense intended for my friends that live out in that direction.  I live pretty far out in the suburbs as well, just the other direction.  So when you put those together, it makes for a very long drive.  I was meeting the girl who made the hat at a Hobby Lobby.  As we enter the store, I know I am in for it.  Right at the front of the store is a display of both Angry Birds and Hello Kitty.  Me being the sucker that I am left with both a new bird and a ballerina Hello Kitty.  It was as if the store knew my kids were coming, and set up those shelves just for us. Kryptonite.  Outside of the extra $20 bucks I spent, my mission was at least complete.  I left with a false sense of security that led me to believe that I could attempt some further Christmas shopping.

    Mike wants a treadmill or an elliptical for Christmas, so I decided to hit Play it Again Sports as my next stop.  By the time we got back to my side of town, it was already 4 pm.  Barrett Parkway was a mess.  It took me 20 minutes just to get a couple of miles.  We head into the store, and I can tell already this was a horrible plan.  Both kids light up at the sight of all of the shiny things that they shouldn't touch.  Treadmills, ellipticals, free weights, golf name it.  Tons of things that could cause massive injury and destruction.  I am just price checking at this point, and despite the fact that I have two toddlers of destruction with me, this guy makes it his mission to sell me a treadmill, and tell me all about the quality of each one.  How can he not tell that I need the abbreviated version??  He even offered to turn on a couple of the treadmills and let the kids run on them.  Yeah...that is an awesome idea.  Just what every mommy needs.  Her kid to faceplant and require stitches or dental work.  I shook my head to his offer, while holding Molly under my arm, flailing limbs everywhere.  I finally put her down, and she seemed highly entertained by a putting green nearby.  She and Colin are putting golf balls in the hole, and seem OK for few.  I continue to clarify a few things about the treadmills they did have for sale since they seem occupied.  And then it happened.  I looked over just in time to see Molly struggling to pull down her pants.  We are already at half mast when I am able to reach her.  I don't know if she was planning to drop trow and pee on the putting green, or if she just thought she needed a little air.  Who knows with this little one??  I tackle her, pull up her pants, and ask directions to the nearest bathroom.

    So I think it goes without saying that the remainder of my Christmas shopping will be done online or sans kids.  I think the fact that I am sipping spiced sangria while writing this post should also not need any further explanation.  Molly is trying to steal my drink while I type.  Does it make me a bad parent for almost letting her have it?? Maybe she would sleep a little better? Maybe it would slow her down?? Of course, she would probably be a mean drunk.  Nobody needs that.  Oh, and did I mention??  She seems to have lost her pajama pants already.

Monday, December 17, 2012

The legend of Naked Bear continues...

   At the ripe age of 3.5y/o, Molly continues to misplace her clothing.  I really thought we would have outgrown this phase by now, but the nakedness continues.  Not only does she continue to strip in her bed, she feels the need to come into my room to wake me, and inform me that she is cold.  It always starts with that little "non whisper" of a toddler at the edge of my bed.  "Mommy...Mommy, wake up.  I cold."  I crack my eyelids just enough to squint in her general direction.  And sure enough, there she is, naked as a jaybird, attempting to climb into bed with me.  She always repeats, "Hey, Mommy.  I cold.  I sleep with you."  My question..."Where are your pajamas Molly?"  Her consistent response, to look down at her body, and realize that she is naked.  And then she says with sincere shock..."Oh...I no know Mommy.  I need a blanket.  Help me up."

      While I can appreciate getting hot in the middle of the night and stripping, I certainly did enough of that during pregnancy and nursing, I am left to wonder, how long can she actually continue to be surprised.  And also, when is she going to learn to keep the jammies close by??  I mean, she takes them off easily enough, she must be able to put them back on.  Of course, why limit the random stripping to bed time??

     She frequently runs into the room I am in, and has lost her clothes from the waist down.  Now, I know how this one usually happens.  Like so many toddlers, Molly feels the need to take all of her clothes off from the waist down to use the bathroom.  Sadly, she rarely feels the needs to put them back on before rejoining the rest of the household.  I have waited for as long as two hours before I have asked about her missing pants.  I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.  Just give her enough time to realize that she was in a bit of an "al fresco" situation.  Nothing...nada.  In fact, I asked her if she wanted to go outside and play, and she agreed.  Even without her pants.  She pranced right onto our front porch, naked from the waist down.  I, of course, quickly pointed out her infraction, and she again seemed surprised.  She also promptly accused me of not getting her dressed.  Go figure...

    So it shouldn't surprise me at all that she has started to get lazy in public places. Like preschool for instance.  Her teacher reported that she was so anxious to get back to story time, that she came out to the circle with her pants around her ankles.  Leave it to my daughter to flash the whole classroom, oblivious to her classmates and teachers.  Today, I looked over just in time to see her struggling to get out of her pants in the middle of Monkey Joes.  We had full cheek exposure before I could stop her.  I asked her if she needed to go potty.  Her response "Oh...yes mommy, I need to go peepee."  Me "Why didn't you go to the bathroom first Molly??"  Molly "Oh, I no know Mommy..."  Really??  The girl is pretty bright...I mean, I know I am partial and all, but this seems like such a simple thing.  Perhaps she has no modesty??  Maybe she really is oblivious??  I know she lives in "Molly World" most of the time.  Maybe "Molly World" is a lot like one of those Hedonism resorts...Anyway.  I guess I just continue to redress the girl, correct the inappropriate behavior, and move on.  As for the bed time nakedness, I may just pick my battles.  I mean, lots of people sleep in the buff, right??  It might make for some slightly awkward Christmas morning pictures...

  PS...I just walked by her room, and her jammies are wadded up on the floor.  The child is naked again.  Maybe I should just turn the heat up to try to keep her warm enough? Of course, then I might feel the need to strip in the middle of the night.  I wonder where she gets these crazy ideas?

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

I just stopped my daughter from putting the cat in the trashcan...

  On this, the 36th anniversary of my birth, I am reminded of our mortality.  My grandfather took his final breath last night before leaving this world.  It is sad day for all of us.  He will be greatly missed.  It seems so strange.  After 93 years, he has gone on to better place where his body is no longer failing his mind like it was here on Earth.  And while this death is neither shocking nor unexpected, he will be mourned.  Of course, he also had a decent sense of humor, so I think he will forgive the fact that I also have a funny Molly story to share.  Thank God for children.  They can make us smile even on a bad day.

   While sitting at my computer, checking Facebook, I realize the children are running around the house like, their mother may have let them have ice cream for lunch...What can I say??  I am a sucker, it's my birthday, and I am having kind of a crappy day.  Ice cream for lunch sounded like a good plan, at the time...

  I glance over into the kitchen, because I hear the sound of furniture or something heavy being moved around.  I discover Molly, pushing the kitchen trashcan into the living room.  Seems odd enough.  Definitely sparks some concern and curiosity.  Why??  Why the trashcan??  Why does she need to move the trashcan??  As she slows to a stop, I hear her trot off to another room.  She is calling for someone.  And then I realize what she is trying to least I thought I did.  She is calling for Jerry, our old, decrepit cat.  I see her reenter the living room, carrying the cat triumphantly in her arms.  She looks at me and says, "Look Mommy, I caught Jerry."

    I am still unsure of why the trashcan needed to be moved until I hear it...The sound any cat makes when it is being forced into a box, carrier, or in this case, our kitchen trashcan.  As I scold my daughter and rescue our cat, I have to laugh as I am reminded that I may never completely understand what my daughter is thinking.  Poor cat.  Glad I was able to intervene before any blood was shed by either party involved.  At least it made me smile on relatively sad day.  RIP in Nant...I hope there is bowling in heaven :)  Say hi to Mommy and and Memaw for me.  It should be quite the family reunion up there today.  Till we meet again.

Friday, November 30, 2012

When I am 16 y/o, I am going to have a baby in my belly...

   Let it be known, that no matter which child told me this statement, I would be horrified.  Of course, to add a strange little twist, my son announced this in the car yesterday.  Hold up there little dude, I think mommy has some more explaining to do...
   Let it also be known that Colin is under the impression that 16 y/o is "very old."  He seems to think this particular age is "grown up."  I certainly hope it has nothing to do with the horrific phenomenon of MTV's 16 and pregnant.  I am sure it is just a coincidence...I hope it is, since I have never even watched that program.  So our conversation went something like this.

Colin  "Mommy...You know what??"
Me "What's up little dude?"
Colin  "When I am sixteen years old, I am going to have a baby in my belly."
(insert sounds of mommy choking on her Coke Zero, and spewing a little on the windshield)
Me  "Well, that would be pretty difficult buddy.  You see, only girls can have babies in their bellies.  we have talked about this before.  Boys can't grow babies in their bellies."
Colin  "Ohhhh...Well, can Molly have a baby in her belly when she is sixteen years old??  She is a girl."
(more obvious choking sounds from the front seat)
Me  "Nope, not if she wants to live to make it into college..."
Colin  "But why Mommy??"
Me  "Well, I know you think 16 y/o is a grown up, but mommy would really prefer if you and Molly waited have kids until you were much older."
Colin  "OK Mommy.  Can you grow a baby for me in your belly??"
(more choking sounds...I was obviously not supposed to finish that drink)

   I hope that conversation goes just as well in high school.  Dear Lord, I am not looking forward to those years...Now I am off to figure out why Molly has no pants on right now.  When I asked her she simply said "I don't know, but I have my pink wankie, so it's OK."  I can't keep her pants on now.  I am doomed during the teen years :)

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Random thoughts this morning...

  So, as I am driving my son to preschool, peacefully sipping my coffee, I had several random thoughts enter my brain.  I know, I know...why am I thinking before 9 am and before I finish my coffee??  You would be right to ask that question.  So here goes the random stream of thoughts attempting to escape my brain this morning.

1)  God bless the person who invented seat warmers.  There is nothing better than being warmed from the bum up.  I laughed and thought they were a useless feature here in Georgia, but dude, they rock.

2)  Why is it no matter what time I wake up, it is impossible to leave my house on time??  No matter how many children I have to get ready...

3)  Why is it that I can leave my house at the same time every day, give or take 5 minutes, and I can be anywhere from 5 minutes early, to 15 minutes late.  Uggghhhhh!!!

4)  Why is my daughter still asleep at 9:30 am on a day when I have to be awake at 7:30 am.  She can't just have the courtesy to sleep in occasionally on the weekends.  Any other day, I awake to that very creepy feeling of being watched, and open my eyes to see some crazy hair and two blue eyes staring back at me.  Just once, could they please both sleep past 9:30 by accident??

5)Why do kids wake up in the middle of the night, crying about ear pain, but then are seemingly fine in the morning?  Especially after you make an appointment with the pediatrician.  And of course, all they had left was a 2:30 pm appointment.  We all know that is the kiss of death appointment.  During nap time, and mid afternoon.  The doc's are easily an hour behind by that time of day.  Always get a first appointment of the day, or first after lunch.

6)  Why is it, that even though birthdays come every single year, I can never plan ahead?  My birthday is on Tuesday, and I have no idea what I would like to do.  And my sweet little dude is turning 5 on the 18th, and I have yet to plan any kind of party.  One day, I will learn to plan ahead.  Until then, I am in full on panic mode attempting to throw together a rockin Angry Birds party for my little man.  Any body know how to make an Angry Bird cake??
In honor of all moms who are convinced the kids are conspiring against them :)
7)  And as my final random thought of this morning.  Where are Max and Ruby's parents??  OK, let's be a little more politically correct.  Where are the adult figures that are raising them??  Mom, dad, aunt, somebody...I mean, their grandmother makes cameo appearances, but you never see their parental figures.  For all intents and purposes, Ruby, the older sister, seems to be raising her little brother.  Which would be just fine, except I think she is supposed to be some where around the ripe old age of 12??  You would think you would have met them at some point.  I would be a little resentful if I were Ruby.  She is stuck with a serious amount of baby sitting duties...

  Anyway, back to real life...Molly is still sleeping.  Can you believe that crap??  This would never happen...At least it gave me a little time for writing in my blog.

Friday, November 23, 2012

"Mommy, how do you spell B!#$%??

Conversation with Colin Bear earlier...

Colin "Hey Mommy...How do you spell B!@#$?"
Me  "I'm sorry...what did you say Bear??"
Colin  "How do you spell B!@#$??"
Me  "That is not a very nice word Colin Bear?? Where did you hear that word??"
(Sadly, knowing full well that I am sure I have said it at some point in front of him)
Colin  "You know, B!@#$.  Like the thing you sit on outside..."
Me  "Ohhhh, you mean bench.  Like a park bench.  Got it.  That is spelled B-E-N-C-H."
Colin  "OK Mommy..."
Me  "You have to be careful bud.  There is another word that sounds a lot like bench, but it isn't very nice.  Mommy thought you were saying that one."
Colin  "Nope, just bench..."

(audible sigh of relief...)

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

The election according to Colin Bear...

   Let me go ahead and state at the beginning of this post.  I don't do political discussions.  Please do not read into anything that is said during this post.  I do not wish to spark political debates, and I am certainly not interested in upsetting friends and colleagues.  This is purely a funny story about my son, and a 4 y/o point of view about the election.  This is my for the funny story.

   The Colin Bear is frequently full of wisdom.  He is a smart, observant little dude.  So I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me at the beginning of the month when he attempted to engage me in a discussion about the election.  We don't really discuss politics around here.  Mike would love too...I, however, not so much, so I was a little surprised that my son even knew that the election was happening.  He frequently comes home with handouts from school, and he brought out a handout about the election.  He showed me pictures of both candidates, told me their names, and then he told me about some of their favorite hobbies(as shown by pictures in the handout.)  I was pretty impressed.  And then he sat down on the couch and thought about it all...He noodled it for a bit, and he says
Colin "Hey Mommy, it's Wednesday.  Which guy won?"
Me  "Well little dude. Barack Obama won."
Colin  "Oh...(wanders off to play with his Angry Birds for a few minutes, returns to continue the conversation)
Colin  "Mommy, I am really glad Barack Obama won the election."
Me  "Really, why is that little dude?(I am totally curious what reason he might have)
Colin "Well, I am glad Barack won because, Mitt is a really funny name..."
Me  "Because Barack Obama just rolls off the tongue..."
Colin  "Oh, and Barack Obama(yes he used his full name the whole time) is a boy like me."
Me  "Really?  How old is Barack Obama?"
Colin  "He is 6 y/o.  Mitt Romney is old.  He is like 100 y/o"
Me  "ahhh, I see.  Well I am glad you are satisfied with the results of the election little man."
Colin  "Yep, I like Barack Obama."
     He wandered off to play with his Angry Birds like this was completely normal conversation to have at the age of four.  I have the distinct feeling that I might have two men in my house attempting to engage me in political discussions later in life.  Fabulous.  Just what I need, two political junkies.

Life happens...and apparently gets in the way of my writing

   Slowly but surely, life seems to have gotten in the way of my extracurricular activities.  Well, primarily my writing...but here goes nothing.  I have been suffering from a severe combination of writer's block and exhaustion.  Sadly, when I have had a few "extra" minutes to myself, sleep has seemed to win out over writing every time.  That, and watching Dancing with the Stars :)  I mean, who doesn't need a good dose of attractive men dancing shirtless for two hours.  In fact, Mike asked me the other night while I was watching, "What is with all the shirtless men?"  My response, "Why wouldn't they??"  I mean, if I looked like those people on the dance floor, I would probably walk around half dressed all of the time.  Sadly, this is simply not the case.

    I have hit yet another low with my weight loss struggle.  I have fallen off the wagon yet again.  It wouldn't be so bad if I just fell off the wagon.  Instead, I leap off the wagon, screaming at the top of my lungs "I love food, I love food!!"  I have rarely hit the gym this month.  I am starting to have those "why am I even paying for the gym" thoughts going through my head.  I have to push through this.  I need to lose some serious poundage at this point in my life.  I am back to really hating the way I look, and that is never good for anyone.  I can chant things like "size is just a number, it doesn't define me."  But the negative thoughts come creeping back.  If only I was one of those people that didn't eat when they got depressed.  Instead, I reward myself with food, and continue the vicious cycle.  Ahhh, well...what are you going to do?  Back to counting calories, and pushing myself at the gym.  Hopefully, I will see some results.  Results would be nice to see.  Perhaps if I could locate some self control, that would be useful as well.

    Moving on...Now for the funny stuff.  Done with the emo crap for this post.  So, Molly has developed quite a fascination for our sweet, old, more than a few fries short of his Happy Meal, cat Jerry.  Jer Jer, as the family affectionately calls him, has spent the last 4.5 years hiding under the bed until 9 pm.  The kids have scared the crap out of him, and rightfully so.  My mom used to tell this story about me when I was three.  I desperately wanted to hold the cats.  I chased them around the house, and carried them haphazardly under my arms, so very proud of myself.  My mother tried to show me over and over again how to hold the kitties the correct way.  She would say, "Heidi, put one hand under their belly, and one hand under their tail.  Then they will feel secure."  She reminded me frequently about how I proudly walked into our living room saying "Look Mommy, I holding the kitty the right way."  Of course, I had the poor feline by the neck and holding his tail.  I suppose her instructions flew right over my 3 y/o head. That picture of myself holding a cat by his neck and tail still makes me giggle to this day. She was amazed that the cats never scratched me.  Now, I get to watch my sweet daughter chase my old, decrepit cat around the house.  She just wants to hold and snuggle the poor guy, and to his credit, he lets her.  Thinking back to my mother's story, I have tried to show Molly how to hold the kitty the "right" way.  Poor guy has gotten slow enough that she can catch him.

   Molly rounded the corner into the living room, and I just had to laugh out loud.  Poor Jerry...She had him hanging upside down, her arm wrapped around the midsection of his body, butt and tail in the air.  "Look Mommy, I am holding Jer Jer the right way..."  Oh my, how history repeats itself.  I am amazed by the patience most animals have with small children.  Although, I will say our dog Abby still gives me the "Do you see what your puppies are doing?" look.

   Both kids are at such a fun age right now.  Funny things fly out of their mouths all of the time.  They love to play together, play pretend, and they simply amaze me with their development and progress everyday.  I finally have them to a point where they can both play in another room, and I don't have to hover over them.  They are potty trained, praise God, and both children are verbal enough to tell me their wants and needs.  Life if getting a little easier in many ways.  Of course, they also love to fight with each other, Molly still gets into plenty of trouble when Mommy isn't looking, and whining is often the official language spoken in the house.  I have actually resorted to whining back at them, and having my own temper tantrum occasionally.  It frequently sounds like "Well, Mommy would love a margarita and huge piece of cheesecake, but we don't always get what we want..."  Needless to say, this happens in a weak moment...Of course, my favorite mommy quote of the day came from my friend Wendy as we were leaving the park.  I overheard her telling her son "No Connor, you can't have your whistle in the car, because Mommy might have to stab someone in the eye before we make it home..."  She heard me giggle and said "Well, it's true.."  So true Wendy, so true.

   Every day is still filled with laughter, love, hugs, kisses, tears, tantrums, illness, and occasional insanity.  So basically, nothing has changed here in the Bryan house.  I suppose I will continue to survive the way all parents survive the day to day struggles.  With plenty of stimulants and depressants.  God Bless Coffee and Wine.  They are gifts put here on Earth from God himself to make parenting a little bit easier.  So, on that note, I am off to pour a glass of wine, snuggle with my husband, and enjoy a few brief moments of silence while the kids sleep. bed.  Because it all starts over again first thing in the morning.  And I promise to do a much better job of getting all of their funny stories posted before they leave my brain.  I have learned that I just need to stop everything and write immediately when I think of a funny post.  If I wait, the whole thing is lost...

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Hospice fired my grandfather...

   Just a couple of months ago, I rushed down to Pensacola.  My 92 y/o grandfather had fallen...again.  This time, the prospects looked grim.  The doctors were not encouraging.  In fact, I had to rush down to assist in the decision to turn him over to Hospice.  It was a sad day.  I could hardly believe the time had finally come. I had almost begun to believe this man was going to live forever.  Well, as a medical professional, I knew this day was coming, but this is one stubborn old man.  He has burned through at least 8 of his 9 lives, as one would expect of someone in their 90's.  Approximately 7 months ago, this cantankerous old man fell in the parking lot after bowling.  Yep, you read that correctly, he was out bowling with his buddies.  He fell in the parking lot, and he managed to break his neck.  C1 and C2, decent fracture.  The fact that he was alive and breathing, let alone walking since then is a minor miracle.  But this guy loves to prove doctors wrong.  In fact, I think he lives for it, forgive the pun.

    Shortly after surprising everyone, he was discharged from a rehab facility, back to his assisted living facility.  That week, he fell again.  He further fractured his neck that is now permanently in a neck brace to attempt to keep him alive.  The doctors recommended Hospice for palliative care.  He will never survive surgery to repair the injury, and most of his medical conditions are worsening.  He has congestive heart failure, history of a stroke, history of a heart attack, quadruple bypass, horrible lung fibrosis both from years of smoking and as a side effect of a cardiac med he was on for his A fib, and of course some kidney failure and diabetes.  Seriously, what wouldn't be failing after almost 93 years??

   He was admitted to a Hospice floor of a local hospital on 10 L of O2 via high flow nasal cannula.  I left my sweet babies with their father for the second time in the last few months, and headed down to spend some time with my Grandpa.  By the time I got there, my grandfather and the Hospice minister were looking up his island from WWII on Google Earth on an Ipad.  Ok, so this man is it.  I sat down to visit, and picked up a pretty little box on his bedside table.  Inside were sweet little notes from the staff with hospice related bible verses.  I set it back down without saying anything.  My grandfather pipes up with "Yeah, I have no idea what that is all about.  Isn't Hospice last rites kind of crap??  I am not ready to die."  I laughed even more as I reviewed his current meds with the nurse on shift.  His nursing diagnosis, Adult Failure to Thrive.  Even his nurse said "Well this is odd, my failure to thrive patients are usually not sitting up and arguing with me."  Yep, that is my grandpa.  I was grateful to be his family, not his care provider.  At some point, the nurse practitioner told me that I should take him by the shoulders, and let him know he is dying, and that it is OK to let go.  I laughed a little and said "I'm not so sure that he is, and maybe it is better if it takes him by surprise."

   Low and behold, he was released from the Hospice floor to a rehab facility, and then back to his assisted living facility.  Hospice continued to follow him, and visit weekly.  Some where along the line, his doctor finally broke the news to him that he was never returning to driving.  He had been fully convinced that he would be able to drive again once he recovered.  Of course, he hadn't driven in almost 2 years, but who is counting.  He called me, and informed me that Santa had come early.  He graciously offered me his car as a gift for my family.  So off I flew on Airtran on Monday morning on a one way flight to Pensacola for a short visit.

     I immediately went to visit my grandfather after a brief visit with my step uncle and his partner Rob.  These two are awesome. They handle everything for my grandfather, and they aren't even blood relations.  They take him to his appointments, handle his bills, and take him out for an occasional field trip.  They even host our family on our visits in town.  Upon my arrival at his little apartment, I can tell I am in for it.  He is in a mood.  This could be fun...For about 45 minutes, I let him yell at me and vent.  I didn't mind at all, in fact, I think it would be natural to be a little pissy and angry at this point in your life.  Our interaction went something like this

Me  "Hello Nant(affectionate name), how are you feeling today?"
Nant  "Well, not great.  This getting old thing is horrible.  I don't understand this whole thing of people taking things away from you before you die."
Me  "I don't have to take the car Nant.  If you aren't ready, I can leave it here.  No big deal at all."
Nant  "It isn't the car, it is the fact that I can't drive.  Why shouldn't I be able to drive until I die, and if it is what kills me, then so be it."
Me  "Well, we aren't actually worried about you, we are worried about everyone else on the road.  What if you killed someone else??"
Nant  "Well then, they were in my way, and it was their time also..."
Me  "Nant, I know you don't mean that..."
Nant  "Not really, but I know I could still drive.  I could pass that test."
Me  "You are in a neck brace and have to have oxygen constantly to stay conscious.  No one is going to let you have a license...I'm so sorry.  I know it is incredibly frustrating."
Nant  "Oh, and about this Hospice thing...I never approved this.  I don't need them.  They come by every week and bring crap like this(throws small handmade pillow and quilt in my general direction).  What am I supposed to do with this?/"
Me  "Some nice little old lady made this for you to make you feel better.  She was just trying to be helpful the only way she knew how."
Nant  "Well she could keep it...I mean, how is this supposed to make me feel better about dying.  Why do they feel the need to stop in every week to remind me that I am dying, and that they aren't going to do a damn thing about it.  I am 92, I have been well on my way to dying for a long time.  This is not news, and I see no need to remind me that you aren't going to stop it."
Me "(extreme laughter) Well, I guess you have a point.  I have never thought about it that way.  Do yo want to go out for some contraband ice cream?  It always makes me feel better."
Nant  "Yeah...that might be nice.  I am sorry for yelling at you.  I am not mad at you."
Me  "I know you aren't.  Sometimes you just need to say things out loud, and then you feel better."

   Needless to say, we had some wonderful ice cream, and a great visit.  I think I learned more about my grandfather and laughed more with him in that 24 hr trip than I have in along time.  Yesterday he called me to inform me that Hospice discharged him from their care...I am not surprised at all.  In fact, I am proud of him. I hope I can be as independent and feisty in my elder years as he is.  What a fantastic role model, even if he is quite a grumpy old man that sounds like Foghorn Leghorn.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

A squirrel stole my Mcnuggets...

    Sandra and I decided to hit a playground after car pool for a lunch/play date for the kiddos.  Being the fabulously prepared mother that I am, I fixed a well balanced picnic lunch for the entire family...or I might have just pulled though the drive thru at the McDonalds near the playground.  Ok, let's just admit it.  I definitely hit the drive thru for some nuggets and fries, and a Coke Zero for myself.  Sandra had to take her son Jack for a hair cut, so we were on our own for a few at the park.  I sat on a bench, and ate my craptastic lunch.  Well, part of my lunch.  Molly had a few of her nuggets, a couple of fries, and hit the swings as usual.  Mommy reporting for swing duty...I put her into one of the swings, and started to push.

    After Molly swings back and forth a few times, I hear her say, "Hey, No, no squirrel.  That is my lunch."  I look over, and sure enough, there is a huge squirrel eyeing our bag of fast food.  I walk over, and shoe away two squirrels from our stuff.  They quickly return, and I chase them off yet again.  The big one...He has a bad eye.  Pink, gross, looks infected.  Icky.  I think of a line from Sex in the City when Carrie says that squirrels are just rats with better accessories.  He may have a bad eye, but something tells me this guy is used to Mcdonalds leftovers.  I mean, every animal at this park is well fed, but this guy is particularly fat and slow.  I roll the bag up, move our drinks a little closer to us.  Now back to pushing my daughter and helping my son pretend to be a Ninja Warrior.

    I managed to keep our food clear for the first 15 minutes or so.  Then, I dropped a fry on the ground when I went over to sneak a little snack.  Our little one eyed friend was waiting for it to hit the ground.  He might not have perfect vision, but he knew when the goods were within reach.  He snatched up the fry and looked at me with triumph.  I shook my head, and figured he earned that one.

    I don't know if they were working as a team, but next thing I knew, Colin was playing "Chase the Squirrels."  I was mildly amused by the fact that they were all fat and slow enough that Colin had a decent chance of catching one.  While his friends were busy distracting us, One Eyed Willy had snuck over to the remains of our lunch.  By the time I had noticed, the little sneak thief had taken a fry and a nugget.  He ran by, stopped right in front of me, and waved them both in the air.  It was as if he was rubbing it in.  Damn Squirrel...Well, at least he spared me from remaining fatty calories in the bag.  Try to think positive Heidi...So I go over to grab my Coke Zero.  And then I see it.  Insult to injury.  There is a squirrel running across the playground with my straw in his mouth.  He stopped, and used his little arms to wave it at me.  Now that ticked me off.  I can live without cold chicken nuggets and fries, but dude stole my caffeine refreshment, and he totally did it out of spite.  And I thought the geese were annoying at this park.  Don't ever piss off the squirrels...

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Privacy Please...

   Many, many moons ago, when I was a child living in my parent's house, I can remember interrupting my mother during "bathroom time," frequently.  It sticks in my brain that most questions and problems seemed to arise while she was "occupied," shall we say.  I don't know if it was Murphy's Law at work, or if it was simply a lack of respect for my mother's personal space.  Either way, I would like to take this chance to apologize to my mother.  I would like to say I am sorry for barging into the one room where we should all be guaranteed a little quiet, alone time.  Even though I have fond memories of sitting next to the tub, giving my mother the "post game wrap up" from my day at school.  I am sure that she would have preferred to hear about my day...about ten minutes later in the living room, once she was dressed.
    Some things are difficult to appreciate until you realize it has been almost 5 years since you have been to the bathroom by yourself.  Not only do the little people accompany you to the bathroom for #1 and #2.  They frequently provide commentaries and state opinions about the current bathroom trip.  They let you know if it stinks, if you are taking too long, and will even ask you to let them see the product of the bathroom trip.  They watch your every move in the shower or the tub.  They ask why you are shaving and ask questions about body parts you simply aren't prepared to answer.

    So nothing surprised me more than when my daughter started kicking me out of the bathroom.  She requested I leave, and I was caught off guard.  I clarified, and she confirmed she wanted me to "go!"  She said "Mommy, I need privacy please."  She shut and locked the stall door.  As I stood staring at the locked door, I couldn't help but state what I was feeling.  "Seriously kid...I haven't pooped alone in five years, and now you are kicking me out."

   I can only hope that if I respect this new rule of her's, perhaps the favor will be returned.  Maybe, one day in the near future, I will be able to use the bathroom alone.  And then I remember my long chats with my mother, sitting on the edge of the tub.  As odd as it sounds, we did some of our best talking over those bubbles.  Maybe, one day, Molly will bring me a glass of wine to the side of the tub, sit down, and open up about some teen girly problem.  Maybe we can plan the perfect science project or perfect term paper? Until then, I suppose I will have to deal with my mini stalkers that not only watch the activity at hand in great detail, but feel free to comment about the results.  Because, if my memory serves me right, this is not going away anytime soon....

I am "that" mom...

   Yep, that's me.  I am "that" mom.  For the last two weeks, Molly has turned me into the crazy woman saying her child's name repetitively, while the child continues on her way, with very little response.  I feel like I am trapped in that Bill Cosby sketch.  You know the one, where he is on the plane, and by the end of the trip, everyone knows little "Jeffrey's" name.  By the time we have left anywhere over the last two weeks, I am positive everyone knows Molly's name...well, with the exception of Molly of course.
     This morning, while I was following her around the mall, calling out her name, I came to a possible explanation.  I walked up to Molly, picked her up, and I asked her, "Molly, did you change your name, and not tell Mommy?"  I mean, what else could possibly explain the complete and total lack of response that I have been receiving?  Her response, "No, Mommy...My name is Molly. M-O-L-L-Y..."  I put her down, and within seconds, she was right back in "Molly World."  There really is nothing more infuriating than talking to someone who has become selectively deaf to the sound of your voice.  Well, unless it is multiple people that have become seemingly deaf to the sound of your voice.  Husbands and partners are also excellent examples of this behavior.  You begin to doubt your sanity at times.  Well, actually I frequently doubt my sanity.  I think I was sane before the children...pretty close to crazy, but sane prior to bringing children into this world.

   I have decided that she is convincing Colin to join her in this behavior.  They are conspiring against me while I am not looking.  I think they have agreed to ignore me until I reach the full "mommy is having a temper tantrum in the corner," point.  They love to wait until Mommy starts twitching and screaming their names at the top of my lungs.  Why do I get louder? I am not sure.  I can tell it doesn't seem to help in the slightest.  In fact, I am almost positive it is the equivalent of talking louder to someone who doesn't speak English.  I recognized the "look" from both of them this past weekend as I attempted to herd them through a pumpkin patch.  It is that glazed over, confused, with their heads tilted to the side like a puppy dog, look that they give me.  Like I have four heads.  Like they can't imagine why I am so frustrated with them, even though I have been saying their names for 5 solid minutes, and they have yet to acknowledge me.  By the end of our trip to the pumpkin patch, I was ready to sit down and cry.  I had two 40 pound toddlers, who were not listening to me, a 20 pound pumpkin that we had picked out to carve, a back pack full of stuff, and I had no idea how I was going to make it to my car with everything intact, including my sanity.  I rarely get flustered, but I did on Sunday.  It is not often you realize you are completely at their mercy, and that there really is nothing you can do to make them follow you to the car.  Luckily, I have awesome friends who circled the wagons, threw my pumpkin in their stroller, and helped me herd my uncooperative children out to my car.  I hate feeling like an incompetent mother.  I know we have all been "there," but you still want to tuck your tail and hide when it is your children.

    Hopefully this phase with Molly will end soon.  I would love to enjoy a few years before she hits puberty, and starts to ignore everything I say all over again.  Sometimes, I wish I could spend a day inside her brain.  Molly takes her time.  She  enjoys life.  She checks out everything along the way.  I wonder what it would be like to be that free.  I also wonder how she could be so oblivious to the crazy lady saying her name 5,000 times in a row...Just acknowledge me least a little nod in my general direction.  I am beginning to wonder if I am even talking out loud at all.

Thursday, October 11, 2012

A car pool moment...

   Here I was, minding my own business, when God decided to hit me with a realization.  I was waiting to drop Colin off in car pool.  I watched him hop out of the car, explain where his sister was, and wave as he headed off to his class.  And right then, for some odd reason, I realized my babies are getting so big.  I started to tear up.  I literally cried on my way home.  I started to mourn the fact that my sweet constant companions of the last 4.5 years are going to leave me.  My sidekicks are growing up.  My Robins are going to leave their Batman.  In just a few short months, I register Colin Bear for Kindergarten.  Molly will be close behind.  They are becoming tiny little people right before my very eyes, full of personality, incredibly intelligent, and almost always funny.  I'm not ready...

     I'm not ready for them to go to school full time.  The car is too quiet when I drop them both off.  Yes, don't get me wrong, I enjoy some moments of silence, but the noise and chaos has become my norm.  These small people love me, and I love them so much.  Yes, they make me crazy, and occasionally drive me to drink, but imagining my life with no one around in a few years makes me sad.  I am not ready for this phase to end.  So get ready sweet babies...I am going to treasure every hug, every play date, every morning drop off, every preschool party, and every simple afternoon snuggle while watching Nick Jr.  Our days together are numbered, and I am not ready to let go.  I see why people just keep having babies, or at least space them out a little more.  My nest is going to be empty all too soon.

   I know I have years of fun and hugs ahead of us as a family, but this baby phase ending has caught me by surprise.  The big kid beds, the lack of diapers, the actual questions and conversations.  When did it all happen??  The cliches are all true parents.  Enjoy it while it lasts.  Hug your babies and treasure the moments.  Even the difficult ones.  Because all too soon, these babies become kids, and then teens, and then adults.  I may need another cup of coffee...Now, to pack a picnic lunch for a playdate after preschool, and to stop crying...

I not pretty, mommy....

  "I not pretty Mommy"...Words you never want to hear come out of your daughter's mouth, but that they did yesterday morning.  A horrible sense of panic set over me.  Where have I gone wrong?  What did I do?  What can I do to fix it?  She already has self esteem issues??  How does she not know she is the most beautiful girl in the world?  Well, let me set the stage for this conversation with my 3 y/o daughter.  I am standing at the sink in the bathroom, attempting to tame my hair into something that can be seen in public.

Molly "What are you doing Mommy?"
Me "Just trying to brush my hair so that Mommy looks pretty.  Now I need to brush your hair, so that you look pretty."
Molly  "No Mommy, I not pretty."
(Audible sound of my heart breaking while I simultaneously gasp)
Me "Yes you are sweet girl.  You are a very pretty girl."
Molly  "No, I not a pretty girl."
(I may have been near tears at this point while hugging my daughter)
Me "Yes, you are the most beautiful girl in the world."
Molly  "No, I not a pretty girl..." (Cue silly Molly grin from ear to ear) "I am a Pretty Princess, not a pretty girl..."
Me  (laughing, and hugging my sweet girl in relief) "OK, You are officially the prettiest princess of this house."

   You can't imagine how relieved I was to discover that this was far from a self esteem issue.  Of course, now I may need to work on taming her ego down just a notch...I mean, I know she is my princess, but she may become quite distressed when the rest of the world doesn't treat her this way.

Friday, September 28, 2012

Cute kid moments for the day...

  Cute moment number one.  I put the kids in the car, only to realize I had left the keys inside.  I ran inside to get them and returned to discover Molly roaring in her brother's direction...
Colin  "Mommy, Molly is roaring at me."
Me  "Sorry dude..."
Colin  "But Mommy, Molly is still roaring at me.  Make her stop."
Me  "What is it hurting bud??  She is just being silly."
Colin  "It's hurting my ears..."
Me  "Duly noted sir...Molly stop roaring please, you are hurting you brother's ears."
Molly  "ROAR!!!"
Me  "You had to see that one coming dude..."

  Cute moment number two.  Molly has started to really get into babies and dressing her dolls.  She carried them around, and she even attempted to dress the dog, much to the dog's dismay...On our way to a family movie night, she insisted on bringing her babies to "our picnic."  She picked two dolls, brought a separate blanket for them, and held them in the car.  She insisted that they have car seats as well, but I explained she was just going to have to share her seat with the dolls.  As we walked across the parking lot to the field for our movie night, she stopped in her tracks, a baby under each arm, and said, "Oh no Mommy, I need their stroller."  I have finally gotten to a stroller free point in my life, and now we need one for her dolls??

   Finally, after a fun evening out with our family, Colin says simply "Thank you for taking me to the movie at my school."  What an awesome thing to hear.  It is incredible to hear positive feedback from my little guys.  Not only do I know they had a great time, but it is nice to know that they are learning to be thankful and use great manners.  Maybe we are doing something right after all??

PS...Totally awesome moment this week as a mother.  Molly's teacher confessed that she has asked herself "What would Heidi do??"  Not only is this woman an incredible teacher and mom, she is super organized, and she has taught both of my children.  I have to admit, I am slightly flattered.  I am glad that my offbeat parenting style can inspire others at times.  When she told me this, I said "The answer is almost always have another cup of coffee or a glass of wine, and try to relax and remember that no matter what, it usually isn't as bad as it seems."

Friday, September 21, 2012

Car pool conversation...

   It all started with an audible toot in the back seat.  Normally, I wouldn't even call attention to it, except to point out that the culprit should say excuse me, but this morning, it sparked a little concern.  Molly had refused to go to the bathroom before we left the house, and I was more than a little afraid of accidents on the way.  Our conversation went something like this...

Me  "Molly, did you toot?"
Molly  " mommy" (with a completely offended tone that is impossible to convey in writing)
Me  "Colin, did you toot?"
Colin  "No mommy...I think you tooted."
Me  "You can't blame it on me guys, I know I didn't toot."
Colin  "Yeah you did, you tooted." (giggles the entire time)
Me  "Are you guys sure you didn't toot.  Do you need to go to the bathroom?"
Colin  "OK, I didn't toot...It was just my butt doing a trick."
Me (Completely uncontrolled laughter)
Colin  "What's wrong mommy, why are you laughing?"
Me  "Because that was hilarious little dude." (Continued laughter)
Colin  "Well, I guess I tooted, but it is not nice to laugh Mommy"
Me  "I suppose you are correct Colin, but I think I liked your first explanation better."

Thursday, September 20, 2012

The girl child...I have angered her

    The girl child...I have angered her.  This was the simple thought that crossed my mind as I attempted to please my youngest this morning.  Molly was not happy.  It all started with such a small thing.  She only goes to school MWF, and Colin goes M-F.  She does not like this all.  She should be where ever Colin is, no matter what.  Well, perhaps the doctor's office would be an exception.

    Every morning, my daughter proves she is more like me every day.  She is pleasant enough in the morning, if she wakes up on her own.  That is a very big "if."  So this morning, since it was a Thursday, I thought I would save myself the drama and trouble of getting Princess Grumpy Pants dressed.  I was only running Colin up to the school, and I would be right back, so I made the decision to leave her with daddy.  Molly sensed a disturbance in the Force.  Despite her overwhelming desire to stay in bed, Mommy and Colin leaving without her was simply not an option.  She clung to my pants as I was attempting to leave the house, crying dramatically "No Mommy, I go to school too.  No, I need my red bag.  I go with you and Colin."  I beg Mike to peel the parasite off my leg, but I realize quickly the effort will be futile.  I grab my bed head daughter who is still in her jammies and no shoes, and load her into the car.  By this time, I am running very late, and I am praying that will not have to complete the "Mommy Walk of Shame" in my lounge clothes with my shoeless 3 y/o on my hip in her PJ's.  I prayed the prayer I pray most mornings, "Dear Lord, get us to school safely, quickly, and before the car pool line shuts down. Amen."

    It is a simple prayer, but some mornings, the green cones give me the proverbial finger, and I have to hop out, and walk both children inside.  By some minor miracle, the car pool line was still in motion as I pulled into the church.  During the entire trip to school, Molly seemed to become aware of her current state, and the questions began.  "Mommy, where are my shoes??  Mommy, where are my clothes??   Mommy, I still need my red bag."  It was as if she was simply thinking..."Hey Lady, you are slacking off on the job.  What were you thinking letting me leave like this?" I truly believe this child would like to lodge a complaint with the manager about the service in this joint at times.  Sadly, she would be disappointed that the manager would still be me. Some days, I feel like a glorified barista. Both kids, sitting at the kitchen island, waiting on their mocha lattes, hold the coffee. I had to laugh.  Her final question, "Where are we going? I need clothes."  I reassured her we were headed home to do just that.  Of course, this was not before the director of the preschool stuck her head in my window to tell me how cute Molly was in class yesterday...So close, and yet so far.  I am sure I am not the first mommy to drive through the car pool line with her kids in jammies.

      The temper tantrums continued off and on all morning.  The start of the day seemed to set the tone for the remainder of the day.  I simply can not handle the whining all day, so I try to think like Molly, which actually means, think like me :)  What do I want when I am having a bad day??  So I let her have ice cream for breakfast.  Things started to improve from that moment on.  It is the simple things in life at times...

   On a completely different note, we finally put up the bunk beds for the kids.  They have slept in them for the last two nights without drama or injury.  Fingers crossed that it continues.  I am somewhere between wanting to cry and celebrate that the toddler beds are gone, and the children are finally potty trained.  No babies in this house anymore.  No more crib sheets, no more diapers.  It is a huge milestone for me for some reason.  Some one smack me before I start thinking I need another one...Oh, and if you thought changing a crib sheet was a pain, try the top bunk when you are only 5'2".  Colin of course wet the bed last night, and I got to experience the joy of changing the top bunk.  Lucky for Molly, I remembered the waterproof mattress covers.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Vampires in car pool??

  As I wrestled my children into their clothes and attempted to convince them that we needed to get into our vehicle, I realized Molly had wandered off...yet again.  This child is always in her own little world.  I looked through the whole house, calling her name, and I found her at the front door.  She was patiently waiting with her school bag, and a Costco size container of garlic powder and black pepper under each arm.  

Me  "Molly, give Mommy the garlic powder...I can assure you we will not be encountering any vampires on our way to school this morning.  Or any other members of the undead for that matter...No garlic will be needed"
Molly  "OK Mommy, here you go..."

   Things you thought you would never have to say...

Thursday, September 13, 2012

"What do you mean, they take naps for you??"

   I mean, seriously, what did my husband expect when he told me this the other day?  "They take naps for me..."  I nearly jumped through the phone to choke him.  For months now, I have been mourning the loss of my afternoon quiet times.  I fought the good fight, but damn it, the little guys won.  I stopped even trying to make them nap, because it made my afternoon even more miserable than it needed to be.  Instead, I conceded defeat, and started making afternoon coffee to go with my morning coffee.  What else is a mommy to do??  Outside of drugging them into comas, I felt I had no other recourse but to accept that my babies were "too big" for naps anymore.  Did I think they still needed one?? Yes.  Did I think I still needed a couple hours to myself everyday?? Hell yes...So why in the world did my sweet husband have to point out this fabulous parenting inconsistency to me??  Secretly, I think he wanted to rub it in.  I mean, what man doesn't want to prove that Daddy is better than Mommy at something.  Maybe he was genuinely confused?  In fact, it seems that they have continued napping for daddy the majority of the time.  He simply tells them it is time, and they do it.  WTH??  I can perform the exact same motions, and nothing...He even asked me "I just don't understand why you don't make them nap anymore.  It is such a nice two hour break when I have them."  I was at work when he said this most recently.  I may or may not have let an expletive fly and hung up the phone.

     I came home from work at midnight that night, and walked into our bedroom.  Mike tried to continue the conversation.  I stared at him...why don't they get it??  Mike starts in "I think you should try to make them take naps again.  You could benefit from some me time."  Sure, you know, I just stopped because I wanted to.  Every mom loves to give up that precious two hours of quiet time.  He had to throw in "You know, they napped for Anne the other day when she was here."  I slept on the couch...I was following my mother's rule. "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

    Later on that week, my friend Sandra kept the kids around nap time.  She says off hand..."You know, I think your kids could still use a nap.  They both seemed pretty tired this afternoon."  After receiving the "stink eye" she said "But I am sure you have tried everything..."

    This sparked a plan in my head.  If they nap for everyone else, by God, they are going to nap for me.  So I started with nap time again.  I have been presenting it as a non-option.  I think I was before, but I deserve some sleep too, dammit.  Both children are confused.  They have even let it slip as I leave for work "OK daddy, we will take a nap, because Mommy isn't here."  Uggghhhhh!!!  When did this become the rule?  I Will Succeed.  If Mike can do it, then I certainly can as well.  So nap time is back at the Bryan House,  and it is still one of the most frustrating times of the day.   They are not happy about "Operation Nap" being enforced.  Molly uses the potty as an excuse to keep getting up.  The first few days were horrible failures, and I gave up after over an hour of putting the kids back in their rooms.  The last two days did result in 30 minutes of "quiet time" from Colin and a 1.5 hr nap from Molly.  I suppose those could be considered successful.  Of course, today, Molly got up to pee twice, and I thought I heard little sneaky footsteps after that, but I was enjoying my time on the a horizontal position, with my eyes closed...wait just a minute...this is Molly we are talking about.  Maybe I should go check on where she is?

   I checked her room, no Molly...I checked Colin's room, no Molly...I checked the closets, no Molly...I checked my bed, no Molly.  At this point, I am starting to panic.  I want to call out her name, but if the little booger is asleep somewhere, I don't want to wake her up and miss my chance to enjoy it.  I look in both bathrooms, and I start checking under beds.  I finally checked under our bed.  I was greeted as usual by my cat Jerry.  He lives under the bed until about 9 pm.  The cat looked confused and on edge, and was eyeing the corner carefully.  I followed his gaze, and there she was.  Molly, asleep in a little ball under my bed.  I left her there, much to the cat's dismay.  The kid is napping, all be it in a ball under my bed.  Sure, I wanted to move her out of the dust bunny pit that is under my bed, but you never wake a sleeping baby, right??  I'll be damned if I let a silly thing like location rob me of my naptime success.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

My shopping list...

My Shopping List...

-Vacuum cleaner (no longer sucks and it has erectile dysfunction, officially useless)
-vacuum cleaner bags
-Goldfish (live, not crackers, just in case I need a new fish to distract from the sick, dying goldfish) (pretty sure the vacuum malfunction and sick injured goldfish have nothing to do with each other, but I never put anything past Molly)
-Fish medicine ( to attempt to resuscitate said sick, injured goldfish that has to taken to floating sideways at times)
-Coffee creamer (that one is obvious I would hope)
-Linens for new big kid beds (Holy crap, that got expensive.  Not to mention the fact that Molly has been sleeping in her sleeping bag on the floor of her room for over three weeks now.  And I just spent a small fortune getting new beds and linens for them.)
-One can of Pam (see following story...)

     My daughter...well, she is just a little different to say the least, and I love her for it, but she keeps me on my toes.  I have often thought that she thinks of the craziest things to get into, that no other child would even consider trying.  I have had this fact verified by other mommy friends.  Molly is indeed a special case in many situations.  Never assume anything while this little girl is around.  She is curious, creative, and busy to say the least.  She marches to the beat of her own drummer in "Molly Land" every day of our lives.  So here are just a few of the strange things she has done this week alone.

    As I was sitting at my computer peacefully searching for the perfect bedding for their new super, awesome big kid beds, I realized Molly had wandered off.  I was briefly lulled into a false sense of security as I hear her banging around in her play kitchen.  Awesome, she is entertained and having fun...And then I hear "it" the first time.  "It" being a strange sound that I just couldn't place.  Almost like someone was releasing air from something.  I brushed it off, and continued my search for boy/girl coordinated bedding.  This was much harder than I had originally thought.  I figured there were plenty of bed sets that would be options, but I was wrong.  I tried finding some color coordinated, theme coordinated, or even simply complimentary colors would have been OK with me.  Nada, nothing.  Just as I finally find something on that just might work, I hear "it" again.  This time the sound continued for over a minute before I decided to investigate.  I snuck into Molly's room, and busted her with a can of PAM.  She was spraying her entire bedroom and play kitchen.  The can was empty...Molly had PAM in her hair, all over her play kitchen, all over her bedding, and she completed her artwork by spraying her tent with my non stick spray.  As I told this story at work, my friends wanted to know where she found the PAM.  I have no idea.  I promise it was not easily accessible.  I grabbed the now empty, and harmless can, placed my daughter in time out, and stripped everything I could in the room to be washed.   Why PAM??  Why your sheets?  Perhaps she has seen me with Febreeze, occasionally spraying linens and pillows?  I have no idea, but my best guess is it was simply fun to push the button and spray stuff.

    Finding my daughter randomly naked has finally become a less frequent problem.  She tends to stay dressed the majority of the time, finally.  So imagine my surprise the other day when I return from my shower to find her completely naked.  I had managed to get both children ready for the day, and then I stepped away to get myself ready.  Upon my return, I am greeted by "The Return of Stripper Bear."  I sigh and simply ask "Molly, why are you naked??"  She looks down, seems strangely surprised, and replies "Ummm, I don't know Mommy."  People wonder why I am late everywhere I go...

     Later that same day, I found Molly at the craft table, cutting a banana into slices with a steak knife.  I asked her "Molly...what are you doing??"  Her reply "Making banana cakes Mommy."  I mean, what else would a three year old be doing?  Mental note to find dishwasher lock...she must have found the knife there...

   Finally, our poor fish was doing a lot of the sidestroke in the tank.  He seemed to be having stabilization issues. I figured this was bad sign, and I took this as a teaching moment.  I decided the kids are getting older, and maybe I should explain a little more about how every life has an end, etc...We had already lost "Baby Dogfish" last week.  I thought I would explain it then, but Mike beat me to it, and told the kids that Baby Dogfish went to the beach to build sandcastles.  So, as I saw Dog fish doing the occasional side stroke, I sat Colin down, and told him that Dogfish was not doing well.  I pointed out how he was floating, and I warned him Dogfish might die soon.  He seemed to understand, but quickly said "Well then we need to take him to the fish doctor."  I wasn't ready for that...

Me "Well, Colin.  We don't really have fish doctors.  We usually just get new fish."
Colin "But we need to make him better, maybe the doggie doctor could see him."
Me "I am so sorry bud, it doesn't really work that way."
Colin "They might have one at the aquarium..."
Me  "I am sure they do little dude, but they probably don't see outside patients" (Leave it to a nurse to say something like that)
Colin "Well, can we get him some medicine to make him feel better?"
Me "We can certainly give it a shot."

   So off we go to Wal-Mart to find fish medicine, and pick up a few extra fish.  I will need new fish to redirect and distract if the meds don't work.  We pick up two antifungal meds, four new fish, and miscellaneous crap that causes our check out to be close to $100.  How does that always happen?  We head home, do a partial tank change, put in a fresh tank filter, and administer the fish medicine.  I remind Colin again that it may not work, and not to be surprised if Dogfish is doing the backstroke in the morning.  We have some dinner, hang out for a little while in the front yard, and then we come back in to get ready for bed.  While I was getting Colin dressed, Molly had gone to the cabinet where I had placed the fish medicine, and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen.  I found her smearing sunscreen all over the front of the fish tank.  I grab the sunscreen and a towel from the bathroom, and start to clean up the mess, and begin my interrogation.

Me "Molly Elizabeth, what are you doing?"
Molly "I am giving Dogfish medicine..."
Me "Well, that is very sweet, but you always need to check with Mommy first.  Besides, I doubt sunburn is his greatest concern at this point..."

   In hindsight, it is a miracle that the fish have survived for as long as they have with that girl around.

PS  Dogfish is doing awesome.  He seems to have turned a corner.  I guess the fish medicine did the trick.  Now on to the big kid beds.  I have purchased bunk beds so that they can share the one big room, and use the other small room as a play area.  I sense it will back fire, which is why I specifically bought beds that could be separated if needed.  I will post pictures when the transformation is complete.

Monday, September 3, 2012

What is that smell??

   What is that smell???  A common question in a house with two toddlers and pets, so as I was sitting at my laptop this morning, it was no surprise as this question crossed my mind.  I wrinkled my nose, and I started the "dog sniff" technique of locating the origination of the foul stench.  My son walked up to give me a hug, and as an experienced mommy does, you start with the usual suspects.

Me "Colin, did you poop in your pants?"
Colin "No Mommy, I  didn't..."
(I pull his underwear and shorts away from his backside, and take a quick peak)
Me "Sorry dude, all clear."

   On to the next possible offender...

Me "Hey Molly, can you come here for a minute."
Molly "Ok Mommy." (trots over happily)
Me "Molly, did you poop in your underwears?"
Molly (highly offended, although, considering the number of previous transgressions, I am not sure how she could be) "No Mommy, I didn't"
 Proceed with the official "mommy pants check."
Molly "Hey, I SAID I didn't."
Me "OK Miss Sassy Pants, you are in the clear as well."

   My mind begins to consider further possibilities.  I wander over to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee.  Mike sits down at the computer.

Mike "What is that smell??  Did the dog crap somewhere?"
Me "No idea, I thought it might be the kids, but they are both clear."
Mike "Huh..."
Me "Take the trash out, see if that helps."

   We both decide the smell improves with the removal of the trash, and I head to our room for some TV.  I sadly have had both a Vitatop Muffin Top and mexican food in the last 24 hours, and I have horrible gas.  I lay down on our bed, and Colin climbs up to snuggle.  For some reason, he decides to use my butt as a pillow.  After a few minutes, a SBD(Silent but Deadly) fart escapes from the region Colin has sadly chosen as a pillow.  He sits up, wrinkles his nose, and asks me the same question.

Colin "Mommy, what is that smell??"
Me "Oh, sorry bud, Mommy has gas in her tummy."
(He lifts the waistband of my pajama pants, and checks my underwear...)
Colin "Nope, no poop.  Good job Mommy."

   I suppose I deserve that one...

Friday, August 24, 2012

Rotisserie duck anyone??

   Today was a fairly normal day that started with a "Make New Friends" play date at the preschool.  As predicted, we all had difficulty getting out of bed.  Without fail, my son has been out of bed between 7:15 and 7:30 in the morning all summer long.  Of course, on the first day we need to be awake early, both children are sleeping soundly, and I foolishly turn off my alarm.  I knew we would be late, but I hate trying to get all three of us ready in 30 minutes or less.  As usual, the children can sense my urgency, and they attempt to make my life more difficult.  There is nothing worse than a 3 year old girl who is refusing to let you brush her hair or to get dressed. As we load into the car approximately 30 minutes later than I planned, I notice Molly's pigtails are completely crooked, Colin is requesting breakfast, and I have yet to make any coffee.  Things are not going smoothly, but sadly, we are right at par for the course.  We hit the road, and arrive at the preschool about 10 minutes late.  I suppose this was no surprise to Molly's teacher since she taught Colin last year.  That crazy Mrs. Bryan...she is never on time.  Oh well, we made it.  Both children enjoyed seeing their new classrooms and meeting their new teachers.  Colin wanted to go home, and of course, Molly wanted to stay and play on the playground.  It seems that they can never agree on anything these days.  I think they just enjoy making that vein in my forehead start to pulse.

   We returned home after a quick run on the playground for Molly, during which Colin sat and pouted the entire time.  That kid is stubborn.  God forbid he accidentally have fun outside on a play ground...Back home to do the normal stuff.  The normal stuff being a couple of loads of laundry, a load of dishes, and praying that the children fall into a coma for a few hours so that I can actually get some things accomplished around the house(aka sleep for a few hours as well.)  I quickly realize the nap is not going to happen, so I make a pot of coffee, and start texting for afternoon play dates.  We need to get out of this house if we are all going to survive this afternoon.  I make some plans for a picnic at a park, and we head to Costco for 36 croissants that I need for a bridal shower in the morning.  While at Costco, I pick up a pair of blue jeans.  I check the size, and throw in a size 10.  Should fit just to the bakery, and out the door for our picnic.

    We pull into Laurel park.  The place is packed.  In fact it is busier than I have ever seen it, but no turning back now.  I grab some veggie straws and chocolate chip cookies, my contributions to the picnic, and we head over to meet our friends.  I am still in a cute little skirt and white blouse from our preschool engagement, and Molly is in a sundress as well.  We are not really dressed for a picnic and playground play time.  As we sit down to eat some food, the kids immediately gravitate to the pond to find the ducks and geese.  Tracy has thought to bring stale cereal for the geese.  We ate our last meal completely surrounded by ducks and geese.  They were hungry and persistent.  Today, the water fowl were sparse, but we sent the kids down with cups of cereal all the same.  The ducks chose to ignore the kids.  This frustrated Molly, well, perhaps angered Molly would be a better description.  Molly grabbed a large stick and started to splash in the pond.  Next thing I knew, I watched Molly poke a duck in the butt with her stick.  The duck took off as I was rushing down to scold my daughter.  I took away her stick, and told her to leave the duckies alone.  She said "ok..."  in her sweet little toddler voice.  I came back up to our table and announced that perhaps rotisserie duck was on the menu for the evening as I explained how my daughter nearly skewered a duck.

   The children continued to play at the water's edge, and the ducks continued to hide.  Colin and Molly got bored without any waterfowl to harass, so they started a new mission.  Colin decided to climb a tree that hangs over the pond.  My first thought was "oh, he won't go far, I am sure he will come right back down."  My second thought was "Ok...maybe not."  And my third thought, "How am I going to climb that tree in front of a park full of people in a skirt?"  Suffice it to say, he eventually admitted he was stuck, and I sucked it up, and climbed a tree in cute sandals and a fluffy skirt.  Molly giggled the entire time.  Tracy had taken her girls for a potty break, and returned just in time to see my butt halfway up a tree, dangling over the water.  When I got my feet on solid ground, she was shaking her head, and laughing.  At least she couldn't find her phone fast enough to take a picture.  And trust me, she admitted to looking for her phone.  I am sure there is some unwritten rule in the mommy handbook that states "Thou shalt not provide any photographic evidence of another mommy making an ass out of herself climbing a tree in a skirt."  Or, at least, there should be something similar on the books somewhere...

   By the time we arrived home, we were filthy.  I greeted my husband with a simple "Hello, we need showers, we are all covered in goose poop..."  I can only imagine that was not the greeting he was expecting, but to his credit, he simply offered to start a bath for the kids, and he asked very few questions about the goose excrement.  I love that man.  He even offered me a glass of wine as I described the duck incident.  I suppose, if nothing else, there is never a dull moment while I am around.

PS...I just tried on the jeans...they are way too tight.  I am never eating again.  I suppose I will return them in the morning.  Between all of the vacations and family emergencies, this summer has not gone as I planned.  I was hoping to be skinny, in great shape, running at least five miles, and spend most of my days at the pool with the kids.  Alas, life has gotten in the way, and now those evil jeans I picked up on impulse don't fit.  How dare they make their size 10 so small??  Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.  Meanwhile, I am going to attempt to put the food down yet again.  Why does it have to be so hard??

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Wisdom from the Colin Bear :)

My son is forever surprising me with his little bits of wisdom.  So here are a few I would like to share :)

While in the car, at a stop light, waiting to turn left.  The car behind us honks.
Colin (Turning around to see the car behind us) "Hey...We are at a traffic light, you need to take turns.  It is not your turn yet."

To the cashier at Publix...
Colin  "Diarrhea comes out very fast..."
Cashier "Really?  Is that so?"

While staring at himself in the mirror
Colin  "Mommy, my hair is getting poofy.  I think I need a haircut."

After I have been paged to the kid's area of the gym...
Colin "Mommy, Molly stinks.  I think she pooped in her pants."
Me "Thanks buddy, let's go change her."
Colin (While watching the process) "Oh...I think Molly had corn last night."

After stopping for Molly to pee, yet again...
Colin  "Mommy, we need to teach Molly how to pee pee on trees."

While I am in Pensacola, visiting my family...
Colin  "Mommy, have you started driving home yet?"
Me  "No bud, I am still visiting with your grandpas and your Uncle Alan."
Colin  "You have a very long drive, you need to start driving."

Monday, August 13, 2012

Mommy, I need a spoon...

   Mommy, I need a spoon...This seems like such a simple request, and I chose to believe that while prepping two dishes for a dear friend's bridal shower this evening.  This is where I went wrong.  The phrase should have struck fear in my heart, or at least alerted me to some trouble brewing on the home front.  Little did I know while I was happily preparing spinach dip and pasta salad, my sweet daughter had found yet another way to horrify me...

    I was standing at the counter, creating a bread bowl for my spinach dip, when my innocent little 3 y/o comes running into the kitchen, and simply announces, "Mommy, I need a spoon."  She is of course already in the process of procuring said spoon, and I initially seem to think this a benign request.  She runs off in the direction of her room, and I smile.  Look at my sweet girl.  She must be playing kitchen in her room, while I am cooking in the actual kitchen.  How cute is that?  Of course, after I completed my food prep, I started to wonder and search for my daughter. This is Molly of course...Why does she need a spoon?  She isn't eating anything, and sadly, she is not standing in front of her play kitchen like I was picturing and hoping.  So I continue my search.  I call out her name, and there is no response.  This is a very bad sign.

     I made it all the way into my room, call her name again, and I hear a slightly muffled response.  "Nothing Mommy..."  What does nothing mean?  It can't possibly be anything good.  As I turn the corner into my bathroom, I am horrified to find my daughter "play cooking" alright.  She is elbow deep in the cat litter box.  she has poured the cat's water, his wet food, and his dry food all into the litter.  She is stirring her mixture proudly, and stares up at me with her sweet little blue eyes, as if to say "What's wrong Mommy?"  As I suppress the need to vomit, I grab my daughter out of her fabulous amalgamation of grossness, and I toss her into the shower.  In case you were wondering, canned cat food, water, and cat litter make something very similar to concrete when they are mixed together.

     The mess has been contained, my daughter has been bathed, but I am still wondering if there is a way to bathe her completely in hand sanitizer and Lysol.  The cat is just wondering what happened to his bathroom and his food.  Molly, Molly, Molly....what am I going to do with you??

Friday, August 10, 2012

I am very important...

Colin asking to play Wii earlier today...
Colin "Mommy, can I play a game on the Wii?"
Me "I told you we might play some games later when your friends come over. Let's save it for then. You have to be patient sometimes bud."
Colin "Awwww, mommy. I want to play now. I am very important."
Me "huh??"
Colin "You know, I want to play now."
Me "Oh, I think you mean impatient little dude. That means you don't want to wait."
Colin "Oh yeah, impatient. Am I important too?"
Me "Yep, you are always important to me. And many very important people are impatient as well. You will learn that when you get older."

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Mommy needs a time out...

   Today, my fabulous friend Anne came over to clean.  For a few brief hours, before the children destroy all of her hard work, I have a few blissful moments of a clean, fresh smelling home.  While she was cleaning, I took the kids to Monkey Joes.  We enjoyed a horrible lunch of nachos with gelatinous cheese and a soft pretzel.  The children played, mommy played Scramble with Friends.  A good/mediocre time was had by all.  At least until I realized that Molly had been inside the obstacle course way too long.  Upon climbing inside, I discovered she had indeed pooped in her underwear...yet again.  I refuse to let this get me down.  I pull her to the bathroom, change her clothes, throw the dirty clothes in a biohazard bag, and beg her to at least pee on the potty.  She refuses, multiple times.  I hold my ground, and insist on her at least attempting to pee before we go back out to play.  In the mean time, Colin climbs under the stall.  No doubt he was wondering what had happened to both of us.  Out of desperation, I ask Colin to show his sister how to go pee pee in the big potty like a big kid.  As he starts his demonstration, I see how my plan is going horribly wrong.  Hmmm...he does a fabulous job of showing her how a little boy pees in the potty.  Oddly enough, this seems to do the trick.  Molly agrees to hop up on the potty, and she tinkles right away.  In my mind, I could already see how that could have gone wrong.  I am pleased Molly did not try to urinate standing up.  Small win for the mommy.

   We reenter the play area, and the kids play for another thirty minutes or so.  I announce it is time to go, and surprisingly enough, both children come with me relatively easily.  By this, I mean I carried Molly out on my hip, and dragged Colin out by his arm.  We got home just in time for Anne to be finished.  The floors are clean, the carpet vacuumed, the bathrooms no longer smell like urine...Ahhh...Now to make dinner.  I throw some pasta on the stove, cook some broccoli, and mix it all together with some alfredo sauce.  Tada!!!  Instant dinner.  The kids and I sit down for a quick meal as I try to catch up on the Olympic medal count for the USA.  I look over, realize it is 7 PM, and my heart does a small dance of joy.  The kids are playing quietly together in the living room, and I head to our clean bathroom to start their bath.

    Some where about halfway through drawing the bubble bath, I decide it looks quite inviting.  It has been ages since I sat in a bath and soaked.  I have been resigned to the reality of 5 minute "mommy showers" for years now.  As I make the decision to slide into the bath myself, I decide to go and grab one of the pumpkin beers out of the fridge.  I pop the top, turn on Dora for the kids, and slip into the sudsy water.  I submerge myself completely.  All I can hear is the nothingness of the bubbles popping in my ears.  My eyes are closed, and I sit up a little to sip my beer.  Ahhhh, this is nice...

   And then my son pops through the door.  I sit up a little more, and address my son's presence...not that they ever need a reason to stare at me while I am in the bathroom.

Me  "Hey Colin, what's up?"
Colin  "Guess what?!?" (in a very excited voice)
Me  "What?"
Colin  "Guess what happened with my underwears!"
Me  "Oh no...what happened with your underwears?"
Colin  (very excited still) "I had diarrhea come out."
Me  "Seriously...(sip my beer) OK bud, lets take off your clothes, very carefully"

    I realize I have just lost my bubble bath to my son who is much greater need.  As I exit the tub, I have to laugh at the fact that I even thought I would get enough time to myself to enjoy a bath.  I mean, what are the chances of avoiding handling toddler excrement twice in one day.  Apparently, not very good.  At least I still have the beer :)