Comments From the Peanut Gallery This Morning...

   So, as my belly continues to expand, my wardrobe continues to shrink, in both quantity and actual size. Some of my maternity shirts are even getting too short.  It is a pet peeve of mine to wear your shirts too short, pregnant or otherwise, so it is really starting to annoy me.  This morning, I had Molly's Christmas party at school.  I was a party mom, so I was looking for something at least mildly festive.  I had a fuzzy red sweater left over from one of the other pregnancies.  I put it on, and it was just a little too short.  I put on one of my maternity tanks underneath to try and buy at least one more wear out of the sweater.  I stood in front of the hubby, and asked him what he thought.  The conversation went something like this...

Me "So, does this look OK?  Is it too short to wear?"
Mike "I think it is fine with the shirt underneath...(goes back to reading news on his phone)"
Me (Continuing to stare at my belly and analyze) "I think you are right, but...I think I will have to wear something else.  This is going to drive me nuts."
Mike "I understand.  I have things that bug me too.  I can't leave the house without a belt."
Me (changing clothes, muttering under my breath) "Stupid sweater..."
Mike "I am not sure that this is the sweater's fault.  That is a rather sizable belly you are trying to cover over there..."
Me (giving husband death stare) "How did you miss etiquette 101 for talking to your pregnant wife?"
Mike "I'm just sayin..."

  In order to salvage my self esteem, I pulled out my outfit from my shower that makes me feel sassy.  The shirt is red.  Wine red, but still red.  It could be considered festive.  But even more importantly, it covers my whole belly.  I grabbed my new black boots, and zipped them up over my skinny jeans.  Mike notices the boots...

Mike "You are going to wear the dominatrix boots to a preschool party??"
Me "Boots are totally in right now.  They only become dominatrix boots when paired with a corset and you forget your pants.  Since I am doing neither of these things, I think we will be just fine."
Mike "Alright..." (shaking his head)

  Men...can't live with them, can't kick them in the head with your boots even if you really want too.

The Naked Bacon Thief, Thanksgiving for 14, and Hilariously Inappropriate Jesus Comments...

   Where do I even begin??  It has been weeks since my last post.  I must admit, when I finally have a moment to sit still, sleep has been winning as my favorite activity.  I just keep thinking to 8 weeks from now, when sleep will be a distant memory.  The pregnancy has been cruising along.  So far, so good.  No major complications or bedrest.  Yay for a relatively normal pregnancy!  I have been pleasantly surprised.  The horrific reflux is seemingly under control, and my delivery date is fast approaching.  Holy Crap!!!  I am going to have another little human cut out of me.  Wow, just wow...

  My incredible friends staged an awesome surprise baby shower for me a few weeks ago.  I am still impressed that they managed to pull it off.  One of the bonuses of being pregnant with your third.  You are truly, totally oblivious, and things are actually surprises.   I thought I was headed out for an evening of cocktails with the girls.  I bought myself the sassiest maternity outfit I could find, cleaned out the mini van, and even stopped for cash for the valet.  I was late, of course, only to discover it was for my own baby shower.  Well played ladies, well played...

   Also a bonus of being pretty pregnant at the holidays...everyone comes to you.  I wound up hosting Thanksgiving for 14 at my house.  I have never been the actual hostess for a big holiday.  I actually had a lot of fun trying to get everything together.  Almost every year, we wind up driving to see someone.  We go to the holidays, they rarely come to us.  I wondered at what point Mike and I became "adult enough" to host a holiday.  I guess it is with the third child.  I managed to pull off a Thanksgiving dinner, complete with a chocolate souffle, and the only things that flopped were the frozen pies I picked up as an after thought.  Mike and his sister Maureen ran a half marathon before the cooking even began, and my brother and his family were able to join us as well.  A fun time filled with family, and tons of cousin play time.

   In the mean time, I have had a birthday.  I turned 37 on the 4th of December.  I have no idea why, but this one actually bothered me.  30 came and went without much fanfare.  35 snuck by under the radar...37 hurt.  I have no good explanation.  I officially feel old now.  My super awesome family treated me like a queen on my birthday though.  Mike took the day off, and handled all of the school pick ups and drop offs.  I was served breakfast and coffee in bed.  Of course, a very cute, naked, bacon thief joined me, and stole my breakfast.  Thank goodness she is so adorable.  She hopped into bed, and said "OOooooo, Mommy.  Whatcha eating?  What is the brown stuff?"  When I told her it was bacon, she quickly stole a piece and stole my fork and my remaining eggs.  I am amazed that I have gained any weight at all since the children were born.  I can safely say I have yet to finish a meal or a snack on my own while they are around.  After my breakfast, I was sent to a spa around the corner for a massage.  Sadly, I don't think prenatal massage is their specialty.  After scaring away three people, the manager finally agreed to give me a massage.  I am not sure if it was because she spoke the most English, or because she was the least intimidated by my pregnant belly.  I giggled as we discussed what baby it was for me.  She was shocked that it was the third, and she was very concerned that I was taking care of the other two while I was pregnant. She says, "Oh, you must be very tired..."  Yes lady, that is why I am here.  Let's get this massage started.
   
     I figured at that point, why not just blow her mind.  Then I told her I was labor and delivery nurse as well.  I think she nearly fell over.  I was then lectured that being on my feet for that long could not possibly be good for the baby.  I simply told her, "Oddly enough, no one at the hospital seems to feel that way..."  Of course, neither do I.  I walk a fine line of being flattered when people want to help me do things, and being slightly offended that people think I can't or shouldn't be doing things.  Hard to strike the appropriate balance of needing help lifting heavy things, and making sure people know that I am not broken or sick, just pregnant.  I left the massage place, stopped to have a mani/pedi, and finally returned home feeling pampered and relaxed, only to discover that our 20 y/o TV in our bedroom had been replaced by a flat screen.  Yay for birthdays!!  Even if I am feeling old...

   And tis the season for Baby Jesus comments.  We all know that 4 and 5 year olds have a slightly different view of the world, and that they can be shockingly honest at times.  So here are a few of the winners from the last week or so.

Molly, calling out from the bathroom...(She has been told to call for help after she poops.  After realizing she was unable to wipe effectively, I have told her to call me)

Molly "Mommy!!  Mommy!! Come look at my poop."
Me "Yes Molly, how can I help you?"
Molly "Look at my poop Mommy, it looks like the Baby Jesus!"
Me "Ummm, OK.  Molly, that is probably not a very nice thing to say.  I am almost certain that the Baby Jesus would not like to be compared to poop..."
Molly "But it does look like Jesus..." (pouting and walking away)

This morning, while playing with the little people Nativity set...
Colin "Hey Mommy...Baby Jesus is hiding."
Me "OK, why is he hiding?"
Molly "Because Baby Jesus loves pirates, so he needs to hide."
Me "Pirates, huh?  Well Baby Jesus loves everyone, so I guess that would be true as well."
Colin "And he loves community helpers like fire fighters and policemen."
Me "Very true, little dude, very true."

Also this morning, when I realize Baby Jesus is all alone, without a single wise man or Mary in sight...
Me "Hey guys, where are the rest of the friends for Baby Jesus?"
Colin "They are all hiding because it is his birthday."
Me "Well...can we try to find all of them...I would love for your baby brother to know that there were three Wise Men, not just one, and that Mary was not a single mother..."
Mike "Why the big fuss??  We will find them eventually."
Me "Baby Jesus is all alone in the manger, with no one to help him."
Mike "And...I think he is going to be OK.  Something tells me he has someone watching over him."
Me "Yeah...Well he was still a baby.  He is still going to get hungry and crap his pants.  He needs his mommy around, even if he was the Messiah."
Mike "This is how I know we are so different..." (shaking his head, as he walked away)

   Call me crazy...Here are a few pics from the last two months

Surprise Baby Shower

All dressed up for cocktails. You can't tell, but I am even wearing skinny jeans and knee high leather boots.  Probably the only time you will find me in skinny jeans since it is the only time it is considered cute to have a big belly hanging over the top of said jeans...

Getting things ready for the new little dude.

Family time at the aquarium

Molly's first smiling Santa Pic...it is the end of an era.  Now if only Santa was smiling.  Maybe his flask was empty??

Cousin fun at the aquarium

Colin's Thanksgiving Celebration at school

I Am a Domestic Goddess...

   As a review, I stay at home with my kiddos Monday-Friday.  On the weekends, I have the pleasure of working as a labor and delivery nurse at one of the largest delivering hospitals in the country.  You know, my "break" from staying at home...Oddly enough, I am still dealing with partially dressed people, frequently whining and asking for my help to the bathroom.  In fact, by the time I clocked in on Saturday, I was more than a little concerned that if I got assigned a whiny patient,  I might threaten to put her in time out.  Somehow, I think that might be frowned upon, even if it felt right at the time.  Luckily, I can usually keep these crazy ideas of mine inside my head.  I mean, at least the women in labor have a reason to whine, unlike my children.

   So needless to say, I try to make the best of the time I have before I leave for the hospital every Saturday and Sunday.  On average, I have at least two loads of laundry and a load of dishes every single day.  If I don't stay on top of that before I leave, it makes my sleep deprived Mondays that much more fun.  I mean, who doesn't want 4 hours of sleep followed by four to five loads of laundry and two to three loads of dishes??  This past Saturday, My husband was off playing with his friends for the day.  I was up at 7 with the kids.  I had two choices...Lay in a partial coma while they watched TV, or get up and ingest large quantities of coffee and keep moving forward.  I chose the latter.

    Around 10 am, I sent this text to my husband...
Me "For your reference...I have stripped our bed, remade it, done three loads of laundry, two loads of dishes, cleaned the kitchen, sunroom, and dining room, made chicken pesto tortellini, been told by our daughter that it tastes like dog food, given our daughter breathing treatments, squeezed in a shower for myself, drawn a map of both Florida and Georgia...and all of this before noon.  You can say "Thank you for all you do for our family, you are a domestic goddess..." at any time now.
Mike "Thank You!!  You are a domestic Goddess."
Me "And of course, I still have two car seats to put together all before I can go in and do my actual "job" at the hospital for ten hours, only to get home at midnight and wake up to do it all over again.  Oh, and did I mention, all of this was completed while growing your child in my womb..."

   Ok...so maybe I was sending him on a bit of a guilt trip.  But you know, I think they need to be reminded every now and then that the simple things they take for granted like clean sheets and underwear actually take a lot of work and effort.  I was flooded with texts from all of our friends that morning thanking me for all I do.  I think every mom deserves some recognition for the normal stuff occasionally.  Even if the recognition only comes after a guilt trip text :)  Sadly, the house still needed so much work when I left for the night.  These people that live with me sure can make a lot of extra work.

Molly and the Boy Baby...

  You know, I knew Molly wanted a sister and Colin wanted a brother.  This was no huge surprise at all.  I knew that only 50% of my children would be happy after the gender reveal, but I really had no idea how hard Molly would actually take the news.

   So the day of the ultrasound rolls around, and we discover that it is indeed a little boy that I am growing inside my uterus.  I leave my appointment, pick up Molly from school, and share the news with my sweet girl.  The conversation went something like this...

Me "Molly, guess what??  Mommy and Daddy went to the doctor today, and the doctor looked inside my tummy, and they figured out you are having a little brother."
Molly (uncontrollable sobbing, immediate onset)
Me "Awww, Molly, it's not that bad.  A little brother will be awesome.  He will be lot's of fun."
Molly (still crying)
Me "Here Molly, let's look at the pictures from the doctor.  See, here is his little face, here are his feet, and this, this is his little pee pee."
Molly (through tears)"No Mommy, that is a girl baby.  I promise.  The doctor is wrong."
Me "Actually, they are pretty sure it is a boy Molly..."
Molly (more sobbing, new onset)
Me (unsure of what to do at this point) "I'm sorry Molly, would a chocolate cupcake make things better?"
Molly (sniffling)"OK Mommy..."

   After a quick stop for a cupcake, Molly was able to continue on with her play date at the park.  I was very careful not to mention the gender again for the rest of the evening.  Well, at least until we picked up Colin.  Colin was ecstatic.  He was cheering...cue Molly crying, again.

  This pattern actually continued for a few days.  Molly in a constant state of denial, listening to my belly, and saying, "Nope Mommy, that sounds like a girl baby.  I promise."  At this point, I am grateful for the 18 + weeks we have to try and get this little girl to warm up to the idea.

     About three or four days after the ultrasound appointment, Molly and I were in Target for some errands.  As we pass the baby department, she says...
Molly "I guess we should get your baby a present Mommy..."
Me "OK Molly, what should we get for him??"
Molly "I guess he needs an outfit...and a toy..."
Me "That is very sweet of you to think of your little brother."
Molly "Your baby..."
Me "Ok, my baby...I guess we are making progress."

   She picked out a very sweet little blue and green outfit with a raccoon hat and a tiny stuffed monkey.  I was impressed, and thanked her.

Me "This is a cute little outfit.  Thank you for picking it out for the baby."
Molly (looking down at her feet) "It would be cuter if it were pink..."

   OK, so baby steps in the right direction.  I couldn't help but snicker at her response.  This little girl is hilarious.  She seems to be coming around to the idea now.  In fact, she told me she wants to help take care of my baby boy when he comes out.  I know that with time, that novelty will also wear off, but maybe it can stick around for a little while.  Her new solution is that I should have a boy baby and a girl baby...little does she know that twins might actually be enough to send me over the edge. I have tried to really sell the idea of her being the "only girl" now.  You know, tons of mommy/daughter time, of princess dress up and ballet, no boys allowed.  She is warming to the idea.  Honestly, I think this is the best she could hope for.  If she has to be dethroned as "The Baby,"  she may as well get to be the only girl.  The princess in the middle, shall we say. Of course, all of her denial has left me with just a tiny little worry in the back of my mind...I mean, what if they were wrong??  What if it actually is a girl?  I think I am going to ask for a quick check during my ultrasound tomorrow.  You never know, maybe she knows something I don't know??  I want another look myself...before I strip the nursery that is already completely pink :)

5 Minute Warning...

   The five minute warning...I have seen many parents execute this with success.   You know what I am talking about.  The kids are playing somewhere, and the parent issues the five minute warning.  "OK guys, we are leaving in five minutes..."  Shortly after this warning, I get to observe this family leave, children in tow.  Of course I have seen it fail.  In fact, I have seen it end in tears, but the vast majority of the time, this seems to bring desired results.  I am never above watching and learning from other parents, so I have tried this simple technique with my kids for years.  I am about 50% successful...and by that, I mean I can usually convince one child to follow me out, not that I leave with both children peacefully 50% of the time.  Not the kind of odds that work in my favor.

    You see, tonight was Kindergarten Appreciation night at our local Chick-fil-A.  The decision to head there for dinner was what most people would refer to as a "no brainer."  It helps my child's school since it is a fundraiser, and Mommy doesn't have to cook.  Win/Win situation.  This is of course if you leave out the fact that the fast food restaurant is going to be FULL of families with kids exactly your child's age.  Ok, again, bonus.  Colin gets to play with his school friends, and Mommy gets fried chicken goodness, and no dishes for the evening.  What I am failing to mention, or even see for myself until I was stuck in the situation, is that this proves to be a very difficult situation to escape.

   Challenge number one of the evening...getting the children to eat the food that you have just purchased.  Bribery and bargaining commences.  "How many chicken nuggets do I have to eat before I can play?"  "Can I play now??  Maybe now??" The overwhelming temptation of the playground is almost more than the children can stand.  "But Mommy, my friend is over there, can I go play with him?"  After negotiations are complete, and the children eat at least half of their kid's meal, they both bolt to the play ground with glee.  Every now and then, returning to the table to have a drink or  eat another french fry.  So far, so good.

   Then out comes the giant cow with balloons following closely behind.  They both request a balloon, and then quickly leave them with me so they can continue playing.  I stick my head in the play ground every now and then to listen out for screaming or crying.  The noise of that many children in a small enclosed play space is deafening.  I decide that despite feeling that it is getting a little akin to Hunger Games inside the play area, that I would sit down and patiently wait.  I am sure everything will be fine.  Molly has set up camp at the top of the play ground...

    When the princess finally graces me with her presence at the table,  I offer ice cream as a treat, and I mention that we should be going soon.  I suppose that was my mistake.  You see, as I stated earlier, this seems to work for most parents.  In fact, it works on one of my children.  Molly sees the five minute warning as an opportunity.  An opportunity that she simply can't resist...An opportunity to hide thoroughly and out of Mommy's reach.  Yet another opportunity to prove to me that she is always looking for a chance to make me look like an ass in public...I swear, I think it has been their mission since day one on this planet.  Make Mommy look like a crazy woman every chance they can.  For a little while, the ice cream was enough to keep her coming back.  Then, both children abandoned their cones, and left the melting, sticky messes with me.  I start to eat the cones not only to prevent the waste and clean up the mess, but, well also because of the obvious.  I wanted the ice cream.

    Eventually, I was able to tempt Colin out of the play area, and put on his shoes.  Molly remained far out of reach in the very top part of the play ground.  I called her name, I reminded her about the ice cream, I started counting...But she is smart.  She knew I had no way to get her out of the play ground, and I think she knew I hardly wanted to make a scene in front of the other kindergarten mommies.  I knew what she was thinking..."I'd like to see you try and get me down..."  She knew there was no way for this pregnant mommy to scale the tall, enclosed play space.  I was at her mercy.  I sent a few of the older kids with messages that she needed to come down.  I tried to send her brother, and he simply shook his head and told me, "No Way."  Still no Molly...

    I have no idea what eventually changed her mind.  Maybe she knew she was pushing her luck.  Maybe she knew she was in trouble.  Or maybe she simply wanted to finish her ice cream.  I may never know, but I have been reminded yet again, that no matter how long you have been a mother, no matter how many tricks of the trade you learn, that you are still often at the mercy of these crazy little people you have created...And I was also reminded that giving Molly a five minute warning is more like issuing a challenge to my daughter.  A challenge that she accepts readily to simply prove me wrong...We will leave when she is ready, not in the five minutes I have in mind.  Perhaps a sneak attack is the only way to go with my children.  While it sounds good in theory, the five minute warning simply gives Molly time to plot her grand plan...Thank God she is so cute, and that I was able to leave another Chick fil A stand down with my pride still intact instead of with a screaming child under each arm.

  PS...I wound up eating the majority of both cones and my nuggets...Between my lactose intolerance and the horrible reflux I have been having, I will be hating life for the rest of the night.  Awesome.

It's Official...

It's official ladies and gentleman...We have another Baby Dude on the way.  We are expecting a little boy come February.  Molly will remain the Princess of the house...of course, she may never get to date :)

Spanish??

Conversation between Molly and Colin in the car today...
Molly "Mommy, I want to watch the movie in Spanish."
Colin "No Molly, we need to watch it in English."
Molly "Nope, Spanish..."
Me "Molly, you don't speak Spanish. You might want to listen to Colin on this one."
Molly "Yes I do...Bon Jour."
Colin "Uggghhh...Molly, that is French."
Me (laughing) "He is right Molly, that is French. But way to go knowing another language. We will work on the details later.
Molly "Hey...that is Spanish, I promise."

I may have traumatized a first time mother in Babies R Us...

   So, I headed in to Babies R Us to exchange some car seats for belt boosters.  I had been putting it off forever, and the car seats were still sitting downstairs in their boxes.  Mike and I decided that boosters for the Camry would be plenty, and would also give us a better chance of fitting the third car seat in the smaller car.  A compromise, since I had originally purchased four matching car seats after our accident this summer.  The kids hardly ever ride in the Camry, but I prefer that both cars are always prepped to carry the children.

    After I lugged both of the ginormous car seats inside, and completed the return process, I ventured over to the car seat section to pick out the booster seats I wanted.  The bonus, I was left with an additional $250.00 credit after the replacement seats were purchased.  Bonus...especially since my infant car seat is technically expired and a little worn after four kids.  (Only two were mine, but I purchased the seat used from a family friend who had also already used it for 2 kids before mine.)  So I was wandering around the travel system section, checking out what we could afford with our bonus money.  As all experienced mommies know, the only people in the travel system section are the new mommies.  Because the rest of us should already have that stuff.  And there she was.  This sweet, young thing with her registry scanner and her husband in tow.  I couldn't even see a tummy...she is either very early or one of those lucky women that hardly shows.  Who knows??  Maybe she is adopting or using a surrogate.  I try to keep an open mind.  I pull down a travel system that looked mid price range, and was a brand I have used in the past.  She walked up, and our conversation went a little something like this...


New Mommy "Oh...you want to look at this one (pointing to another stroller), it was rated much higher in consumer reports, and it is even a little cheaper.  The one you are looking at is lighter weight and folds much easier, but that actually concerned me a little..."
Me "OK, I haven't really done a lot of research.  This is my third, I just need to replace our old infant seat.  However, I have to admit, the light weight and easy fold really appeal to me..."
New Mommy "Ahhh yes, since this is my first, I have had plenty of time to research."
Me (playing with the stroller) "Yes, yes you have..."
New Mommy "Aren't you afraid that it folds so easily, it might fold up while the baby is in it."
Me "Yeah...this is my third.  No, it doesn't worry me at all.  In fact, the quick fold means I have more time to grab the other two before they do something crazy like run into the street.  And even if it did fold up while the baby was in there, I would probably just apologize to the little one, and move on..."
New Mommy (staring at me like I have two heads) "oh..."
Me "Trust me, you will learn all of this stuff eventually.  We were all a little scared with the first one, and then you learn how to actually function and survive, and still be safe."

    She wandered off, and I continued to check out the strollers.  I had to laugh as I am sure I horrified her a little.  The next thing I knew, they were back.  She asked me which window shade I used, and I cringed as I admitted that I had never used one.  I explained my windows were tinted, and that the kids never complained, but I pointed to one two pack, and said they would be sufficient.  Then she asked about mirrors in the car to see the babies.  I said I used one the first time, but it was broken the second time, so I never used one with Molly.  I pointed out that it was pretty easy to tell how she was feeling.  She screamed when she was hungry or angry, and when she was happy, she didn't.  No mirror needed :)  I warned her her that the vast majority of this stuff was extra.  She seemed surprised, but willing to listen.  I simply smiled as I headed off to the register.  As I was leaving, I shouted back..."oh, by the way, you don't need the wipe warmer either.  And keep all of your receipts.  That way you can bring this extra stuff back when you need diapers and wipes and food..."

How do you forget you are naked??

This morning's pre-bus stop conversation...

Me "OK Molly, Mommy will be right back. I just need to walk Colin to the bus stop. You stay here and watch Diego."
Molly "Awww, I want to come too."
Me "Mommy doesn't have time to get you dressed too Molly. Just stay here and watch a few minutes of Nick Jr."
Molly "But Mommy, I want to come too. I can walk up in my jammies."
Me "Ummmm, Molly. You are naked. You have to at least have jammies on to walk to the bus stop."
Molly (looking down, and seemingly surprised to find herself naked) "OK...I guess I will stay here."

This girl is hilarious  How do you forget you are naked??

O...M...G!!! Guess Who's Having Baby Number Three!!!

That's right...you heard it here.  Baby Bryan #3 is on it's way :) Feb 18th, 2014

    Yup, you read it correctly.  This mommy is expecting baby number three.  We are mildly surprised, but mostly excited.  These sweet kiddos have no idea what is really coming :) But that's OK.  I am sure that this third kid will fall right into the insanity that we call daily life.  And now, the other mommies out there understand why I took the summer off from writing.  I have been in a brain dead, first trimester coma...I swear.  The pregnesia, placenta brain, whatever you want to call it is 100 times worse this time.  All I wanted to do this summer was lay down and sleep...ALL...DAY...LONG.  Like pregnancy narcolepsy. Sadly, writing and attempting to be funny fell quite to the back burner.  I am perking up, starting to look pregnant, and hopeful for this new phase of life for our family.  While I can hardly believe it is happening, and I really can't imagine who will be joining our crazy little family, I know they will be adorable, perfect, and we will love them to pieces.  

"Mommy!!! Colin peed on me..."

  OK...So it is safe to say I have heard plenty of absurd things during my almost six years of parenting.  In fact, I have been forced to say some very absurd things.  This week has been no different.  There have been several phrases that have escaped my lips this week that I would have never guessed that I would need to say out loud...ever.  Things like "Molly, Do Not bite your toenails!" This was of course followed by a lengthy explanation of why that is considered "icky" and a simple reminder that Mommy has toenail clippers and I that would be happy to help.  I have always wondered why her toenails never seemed to need to be trimmed...
 
    I had to remind Colin that there is a fine line between tickling and torturing your sister.  He didn't agree.  He was confused by the lack of laughter.  I have pulled them off of each other, stopped multiple wrestling matches, and stopped what could only be compared to ultimate kid cage fighting.  They both look surprised when I say things like "Get off your sister!!" and "Your brother is not a horse, please get off his back."  I know they think I am ruining their fun, but I am simply intervening to prevent the inevitable tears.  And sometimes, I just let it happen.  Sometimes, I let them learn the hard way.  Perhaps the strong will survive??

   Of course nothing prepared me for the conversation we had this morning.  It went a little something like this...
Molly "Mommy, I have to go peepee."
Me "Well then go silly..." (cooking breakfast involving actual bacon which requires a great deal of concentration to avoid third degree burns on my face and hands)
Molly "OK"
Mike "Molly, why are you in the living room??  I thought you needed to go potty."
Molly "Oh yeah, I do need to go peepee." (running down the hallway to the bathroom)
Colin "I need to go peepee too Mommy."
Me "Well then go bud, what are you waiting on?" (still frying bacon and occasionally, quietly cursing at the pan)
Molly "Hey!!!!  Mommy, Colin peed on me!!!"
Me (stopped with bacon long enough to comprehend what was being said) "What??"
Molly "Colin peed on me and the floor, but not in the potty."
Me "Colin...come here please.  Did you pee on your sister?"
Colin "Ummmm, no. I peed on my sock and on the floor, but not Molly."
Me "Molly, did Colin pee on you?"
Molly "Yep."
Me "Colin, Molly says you peed on her. Why did you pee on your sister?"
Colin "Well, I needed to pee, and she was in the way."
Me (shaking my head) "Colin, we have to wait our turn for the potty.  If your sister is on the potty, you wait your turn, or use the other potty."
Colin "The other bathroom is the adult bathroom...not for kids."
Me "You are always allowed to use our bathroom Colin, especially if the other one is being used.  It is never OK to pee on your sister."
Colin "OK Mommy..."
Mike "Are you sure he peed on Molly??"
Me "Yeah, I don't think she made that up dear.  But why we ever needed to explain that one out loud, I will never understand..."


PS...Colin is rocking the Kindergarten thing :)  He loves it.  Molly is still a little lonely, but her school starts very soon.  Of course, if he keeps peeing on her, she might miss him a little less...

I know, I know...so I took the summer off. What can I say??

   These are my first posts in FOREVER...I can't believe how long I let it slide.  It's not like I haven't had things to say.  Tons of funny things have happened...of course, so has life, and it has kind of been rough this summer.  This mommy has been perpetually worn out.  My sweet Bear has been so sick all summer.  He had 5 positive Strep tests in less than 12 weeks.  So between an all you can eat buffet of antibiotics and fevers, we have been kind of off the radar.  We finished with a grand finale of having our tonsils and adnoids removed two weeks before school started.  Nothing like two weeks of post op recovery to finish off the summer.  We never made it anywhere for a vacation.  Never made it to the beach.  We barely made it into the pool between the illness and all of the rain...Dear God, the rain...
   
     Oh and of course, there was the idiot teenager that plowed into the rear end of our SUV while I was stopped at a light.  Wait, it gets better.  Not only did the kid admit he didn't realize we were stopped, he admitted to going 70 mph on a surface road...with lights.  Oh, and did I forget to mention that I was following Mike home since he had driven up separately for our evening out, and we were both stopped at said light, and then I hit Mike when the idiot hit me.  Oh, and both kids were in the car with me.  Awesome...We spent the next month car pooling and shopping for a new vehicle.  Also torture BTW.  There were days when I spent 4-5 hours in the car with the kids just driving everyone where they needed to go.  I was forever grateful when we finally found a van.

     The good news is that everyone is OK.  Despite the accidents, torrential rain, lack of summer fun, surgery, and school already being back in session.  Colin is still sweet and snuggly.  Molly is still wild and crazy with the best smile ever and still has a tendency towards being naked if you aren't watching her closely.  Speaking of.  She just casually walked into the kitchen and announced, "Mommy, do not go into your room.  You don't want to see what is in there."  I am sure she is right, but I better go see what she was up to while I have been writing.  God knows what that little one has done now...

  Despite the illness etc...we have managed to have some summer fun.  And here are some photos to prove it :)

Molly and our friend Josh on the Giant Ferris Wheel downtown

Colin and Molly 4th of Jul;y 2013

Colin at the Butterfly Festival

Colin at the Tellus Museum

Molly the Butterfly

Splash Pad fun

Today...today I am sad...

   Today, I did something that felt completely unnatural.  I walked my son to the end of our street, waited for a bus full of strangers, put him on it, and walked away.  I know this has been happening since the beginning of time.  I know that plenty of kids ride the bus every day.  I know he will survive and even thrive in Kindergarten.  But right now, I am just scared.  I am scared because of those sweet little frightened eyes that looked back at me like, "so, what do you mean you aren't coming too??" I am hurting for how confused he must be.  I know he made it, but a simple "hey, by the way, your son made it to school" phone call would be nice.  I wanted to drop him off...Daddy thought he needed to get used to the bus and see if he liked it.  I agreed it might be a good idea, but right now, I just want to run up the school, ask the office staff if he made it, and make sure he isn't still crying...Because I know I am.

   This isn't our first school experience. He has been in preschool since he was 2 y/o.  He loved it.  I dropped him off everyday.  I picked him up.  I knew the teachers.  I subbed when they needed help.  I was never far.  This is different.  This is too new.  I hope he is feeling better.  I hope he likes his new classroom.  I hope his teacher likes him, and that he makes lots of friends.  Right now, I just hope 2:15pm comes really quick.

 My sweet Molly is sad.  She wanted to go with Colin to big kid school.  This is their first year apart since she was born.  The two musketeers have been split up.  She made a rush for the bus, and I had to gently remind her that she was staying home with Mommy.  I promised her Mommy/Mollypalooza for the next three weeks until she starts back to preschool as well.  I have no idea what we are going to do today. Well besides getting a tag for the new van...I guess I better come up with something more exciting than the tag office, or she might have something to say about my idea of a good time.

   Just a few pictures from this mornings adventure.  As you can tell, He was perfectly happy until he realized he had to get on the bus without us.  I still want to know he is ok...I forgot his nap towel (What happened to nap mats?)  I wonder if they would mind if I dropped by, brought the towel and all of the school supplies I forgot at Open House??  I already know the answer.  I need to stay home.  Actually, I need to entertain my sweet little girl.  I guess I should go find something fun to do.  Try to make the best of the time I have with one child.  But there is a hole in my heart..I can't wait to hug my little dude at the end of the day.  Good Luck to all of my fellow mommies.  Hoping you all are handling it better than me :)

"What kind of parades do you take her to??"

   As I drive home from work this evening, I get a call from the husband.  Not unusual in itself, but the conversation that occurs kind of was.  It went some thing like this...

Mike "So, earlier I asked the kids to come to the kitchen for dinner.  I told them wash their hands, and then come to the table."
Me "OK..."(sounds pretty normal to me, not sure where he is going with this)
Mike "Well, Molly came out with wet, clean hands..."
Me (still not seeing the problem) "Good?? Isn't that what you wanted?"
Mike "She was also completely naked..."
Me "Ahhh, yeah, that happens a lot."
Mike "I know, but I thought I would ask her why this time."
Me "Well, what did she have to say?"
Mike "She said that the stuffed animals were having a parade, and you always have to be naked for a parade..."
Me "Huh??  That is odd even for her."
Mike "So I went back there, and sure enough, all of the stuffed animals were lined up for a parade."
Me "OK..."
Mike "My only question is, what kind of parades do you take them to?"
Me "Well, certainly not naked parades, I got nothin on this one babe.  No idea."
Mike "Where would she get an idea like that??  Has she seen a PRIDE parade?  I mean, I know there are "naked" parades, but it is hardly the norm."
Me "Who knows?  The girl just prefers to be naked.  Why not for a parade??"

   Something tells me this one is going to be challenging as a teenager...

I don't want to be four...

Conversation with the kiddos...

Me "Molly do you know what today is?"
Molly "What?" (with excitement and enthusiasm)
Me "Today is your birthday!  Yay! Molly Bear."
Molly (smiling her huge smile) "It's my birthday."
Colin "You are four years old now Molly."
Molly "Nope, I three."
Colin "No, you are four years old now Molly.  I promise."
Molly (pouting) "Mommy, I don't want to be four, I want to be three again."
Me "I guess it starts early with women, huh?  Mommy says the same thing every year."
Colin "But Molly, you are four.  You are a big girl."
Molly (crying and sobbing)
Me "Just give the girl a minute bud, sometimes it is hard to accept for a few days."
Colin "But Mommy.  Molly is smart.  She knows her numbers.  She knows she is four."
Me "That doesn't mean that she has to like it...she deserves to have a little time to cry about it..."

The Jesus Kindle and other recurring phenomenons in my house...

   Besides death and taxes, a couple of things will always be true in my house.  If it is a plant, I will manage to kill it, despite my best efforts to keep it alive.  And if it is a piece of electronic equipment in my possession, it will die as well.  With no actual explanation, just croak.  I have killed TV's, laptops, computers, cell phones, countless house plants, and now...three tablets.  Why? I wish I could tell you.  I just know that this horrible phenomenon continues and that the electronic gods laugh in my face as I continue to push the power button and hold it down over and over again on my third, yes third tablet that refuses to come to life.
   
     It all started with my first Kindle Fire.  I was so happy.  I loved it.  I loved being able to read at night, and I loved the fact that it doubled as entertainment for the kiddos.  I found some great apps for the kids, and it was nice to check Facebook from the comfort of my bed.  So you can imagine my distress when it died right before it's one year birthday.  We called Amazon, and their helpful, apologetic staff had another one in the mail right away.  Ecstatic that luck was on my side, and it was still under warranty, I waited for my new tablet.  And then it happened...just four short months after getting the replacement, it died as well.  What are the chances??  I pouted, I sighed.  I begged for a replacement.  But my highly logical husband insisted that my new phone should be sufficient.  He said "It is much bigger than your old phone, just use it instead."  Not the answer I wanted.  Amazon had offered me a discount on the brand new Kindle Fire HD 8.9.  I drooled and hinted, but nothing...Mike offered to try and fix the second Kindle.  You see, it only had a three month warranty.  Perhaps it was a refurbished model.  But after my programmer husband spent a few nights with the broken device, he declared time of death, and said it was officially "bricked."  I couldn't bring myself to throw it away.  I set it next to my lap top.  My poor "book phone" as the kids called it.

    And then, the light at the end of the tunnel.  Mother's Day...what was I thinking? Of course.  He is waiting until Mother's Day.  My sweet sensible husband.  And sure enough, a package arrived on the doorstep just before Mother's Day.  I opened it to discover a brand new Google 7 inch tablet.  Sure, it wasn't the 8.9 inch Kindle Fire HD, but it was still a replacement for my beloved little friend.  He refused to purchase another Kindle after the untimely death of the two previous.  I charged it up, ordered a cute, girly cover, and placed it in the spot of honor next to my bed.  I actually liked it better.  A little more versatility with apps and such.

    And then it happened.  I was sitting at the lap top checking my e-mail, and I looked over to see the old Kindle light up.  At this point, it hasn't been plugged in in a couple of months.  I never touched it.  It just powered on by itself.  I showed the "critically low battery, plug in screen" to Mike. He shrugs, and said "Maybe you should plug it in?" I plugged it in, and as if nothing had ever happened, the tablet was working once again.  Like the Jesus of electronics, it was dead, and rose again.  What does Mike want to do??  He wants to send back the new tablet.  I shake my head violently.  Not my new toy.  I just got used to her and all of her cool apps.  And who knows how long the Kindle will stay working?  Maybe it will continue the resurrection process and continue on to be with God?  Besides, it was my little miracle tablet.  I should get to keep them both...even if that seems excessive.

    Well, the electronics gods agreed.  It was simply too much for me to own two functioning tablets.  Last night, in the middle of a serious round of Candy Crush, my new friend signed out on me as well.  Less than three weeks of ownership, and the new tablet has turned itself off, and will not restart.  As I sat troubleshooting with some one on the phone, I knew what was coming next.  Time of death 8:53 am, cause, gypsy cursed owner.  Yes, yes, it is still under warranty I am sure.  In fact, we may just be able to send it back in the thirty day window, but still...

    So as I left to take my son to the pediatrician today for his third case of strep throat in 6 weeks...also a recurring theme in my house...I grabbed the Jesus Kindle to entertain the kids.  I pushed the power button quickly just to check, and it was still working and fully charged.  While sitting in the office waiting for results, etc.  I brought the tablet out of the bag.  I pushed the power button, only to watch as the Kindle started the never ending start up loop of death.  Inside my head, I curse the electronic gnomes that are obviously screwing with me and sigh. A silent scream is echoing through my head.  Ugghhhhhh!!!!!  I suppose it was good while it lasted.  If only it had lasted through one more doctor's appointment...I guess it is back to the low tech world of bribing them with juice boxes and goldfish.  At least until the next replacement arrives. As I tell Mike about the death of the Jesus Kindle and how the IT gods continue to hate me, he replies, "Maybe the IT gods want us to actually talk and interact before bed instead of playing on tablets..."  Hmmm, maybe he has a point?

     

Breakfast conversation...

   As my friend Sandra's due date approaches, important things must be handled...you know, like last minute pedicures. So after car pool drop off, we hit a local nail salon, sat back, and enjoyed a little treat.  As we looked at our watches, we realized we might even have enough time for a quick breakfast as well.  We head over for an extremely classy breakfast at the local Waffle House.  It's the little things in life, like waffles, that make things better.  Sandra is ready to have this baby.  She wants it out.  She has served the eviction notice, but this kid has yet to oblige.  I have reminded her that they are much lower maintenance on the inside.  On the inside, they just make our clothes fit funny.  On the outside, they are much more demanding.  Of course, having a parasite(albeit a cute parasite) living inside you is far from comfortable at this point as well.  When the time comes, I am supposed to be her labor nurse.  When you are in the field, it is very important to line up your delivery team before hand.  Find people that you trust, like, and are pretty sure will  never mention your girly parts or their condition during labor ever again.  For this reason, I am on call for her delivery until it happens.  So here is how our discussion over the check for our break fast went...


(Waitress drops the check on the table, we both reach for it)
Me "Let me get this, I am sure I owe you one at this point."
Sandra "Yeah no, I am getting this one (snatches the check)"
Me (reaching for the check) "No, I should be spoiling you."
Sandra "You have to see my vagina soon.  I am pretty sure I owe you breakfast..."
Me "I didn't know that was a one for one exchange...Then again, that was kind of how it worked back in college..."
Sandra (laughing and shaking her head)
Me  "You know, if that is the case, there are a lot of women in the metro area that owe me breakfast..."

Mother's Day Reflections...

Mother's Day 2013

    I am really not sure when it happened...They aren't babies anymore.  Every cliche is actually true.  The fat little hands are disappearing.  They are long and lean.  They play pretend and have imaginary friends that live in Europe.  Luxembourg more specifically...  Leave it to my kid.  They have conversations, say insightful things, and give fabulous hugs, but they are no longer babies.  I am moving into a new phase of motherhood and I can't help but take a little time to mourn some of those sweet baby things.  Like the little fat rolls on their wrists and legs that I used to love to kiss and tickle.  Their baby hair is finally disappearing.  It is getting fuller and darker.  This month, my baby turns four.  Colin is headed to elementary school, complete with a Kindergarten evaluation.  I get to experience my first maternal test anxiety.  I want him to do well.  I want them to know how smart my little guy actually is.  I hope they can look past his quirks, like imaginary European friends, and see the wonderful, snuggley little guy that he is.  I hope he makes friends easily, and that this transition will be easier for him than me.  I am afraid...there, I said it.  I am afraid of him being gone all day.  I am afraid kids will be mean to him.  I am afraid that his teacher won't like him.  Why?  I have no idea.  He is an awesome kid.  He is going to do well, but yet, it is so hard to let go.  So hard to know that he will be with his teacher more than with me every weekday.  A natural progression, yes, but difficult none the less.

   My sweet little girl is so big and full of personality.  If I had to choose one word to describe her, it would be Happy.  Her smile is simply infectious.  There is no way to see it, and not smile back.  She is bubbly, fun, makes friends easily, and is super smart as well.  Not that I am partial or anything...She is determined and yet somehow seems to stay completely in her own world.  My fears for her are that she won't be able to focus like her brother.  Colin sits and performs tasks easily.  Molly is more like me.  Easily distracted by bright shiny objects or squirrels.  I hope with time, some of this trait fades, but I fear she will battle it her whole life. My fears for Molly are different.  I hope she always knows how beautiful she is, no matter what the tag in the back of her pants says.  I hope she learns to embrace her curly hair, and not fight it every day of her life.  I hope she learns to channel that big personality into success in her personal and career life.  I hope she continues to laugh and smile and be the comic relief for everyone around her.  I hope I don't pass on my insecurities...

   One more year...then they are both off to full time school.  I am moving on, and I didn't even realize it was happening.  On to the next phase of driving to soccer, ballet, band, whatever they choose.  Helping with homework that doesn't involve fingerpainting.  Today, today I am weepy.  My babies are growing up.  No more diapers, pacis, and bottles.  That is, unless I borrow one from a friend...sometimes those are the best kind anyway.  Onto answering questions, becoming a human thesaurus, and teaching them how to be awesome little kids.  Luckily, they seem to have a natural proclivity for that.  Bye bye toddlerhood, hello elementary school.  I have one last summer of them both to myself.  Get ready for extra snuggles, pictures, and playdate awesomeness.  Summer 2013, here we come.  Hug your babies.  Enjoy every minute, because time really does just fly.

Night time bathroom surprise...

   Picture it, 2:30 am, and I need to pee.  I don't want to get out of bed, but it appears my bladder has won the battle.  I stumble out of bed, sit in the dark, as one will do in the middle of the night, and begin to urinate. Before I even finish peeing, my husband has flung the door to the bathroom open, and turned on all of the lights.  Our conversation went some thing like this...

Me "What the Hell??"
Mike "Dear God, what are you doing in here?"
Me "What do you think I am doing?"
Mike "You must have really needed to pee..."
Me "Ummm, yeah.  Hence me sitting in here at 2:30 am.  Why?  What are you doing in here if you don't mind my asking?"
Mike "I thought we had a leak, and that the water from the storm was coming inside."
Me "Nope, just peeing.  Can you shut the door please?" Shaking my head

  Sadly, I couldn't get back to sleep before 4 am.  For future reference people, if you hear water rushing in your bathroom, it is probably just your spouse peeing.  Do Not scare the crap out of them by running into the bathroom to save the day.

There has been a breach in the integrity of my undergarments...

   It has been humbling enough to have to convince myself that I "want" new jeans, that  happen to be a size larger than the ones I was wearing earlier this year.  I just want a different look, not that I could seriously use the space...I mean, these jeans just run small right??  That is why I had to get a 12 instead of a 10...Amazing the mind games that we women play with our brains.  But over the last 2 months, I have lost three bras.  Sure, I was aware they were getting a little too small, but the stupid underwire actually snapped under the pressure.  One of them broke while I was working.  I heard the sound, and suddenly felt much less "secure." I told my coworkers that "there may be a breach in the integrity of my undergarments...I think I need to go home."  My manager was not amused.  The second and third bra died here at home.  Time of death, 10:23 pm, cause, ginormous breasticles.  Dear God, I guess it is time for a trip to Victorias's Secret.

   Taking two small children with you while running errands is challenging any day, but bra shopping??  You have to be kidding me.  We get into the car with promises of the Mickey Mouse Store and Monkey Joes after our mission is complete.  I attempt to explain to both children what we need to shop for, and that it may take some time.  I beg them to behave, bribe them with promises of treats and Monkey Joes, and start towards the mall.

   Molly is the handful in stores.  She hides in displays, runs in the opposite direction, and tends to be distracted by bright shiny objects.  Colin, however, is the king of very loud, vocal observations.  This in itself could be embarrassing in a store full of lingerie.  We enter Victoria's Secret, and I couldn't help but think that perhaps her "secret" is that children should not be allowed through her doors.  Molly looks up at the never ending wall of bras and says "Oooohhhh...Mommy.  Look at all of the boobies."  She immediately lights up like a kid in a candy store. Or maybe, a girl in a lingerie store...She runs from display to display picking bras for mommy.  She brings me a rainbow of bras.  Honestly, the girl has good taste, but has no awareness that they come in a variety of sizes.  I put her finds back on the rack, and instruct her yet again, not to touch anything.

    I grab several bras in my current size, and a few in a larger cup size.  I must say.  I am pleasantly surprised that they have begun to carry this cup size.  Not every girl can afford specialty shops, and I can't help but think I can't possibly be the only one out there wearing this cup size.  My style choices are slightly more limited, but I am able to find a few practical, and one pretty option.  Off to the dressing rooms.  I stand in the back, waiting on a room.  Finally some one comes to unlock the door.  Molly immediately finds the button to call for help, and starts to push it.  I grab her hand, to try and stop her long enough to talk to the clerk.  I explain my current situation, my current size, and how I think I may need to go up a cup size.  She seems doubtful.  I tell her I have stealth breasts.  They are larger than they appear.  So I send her on her way, and she informs me that she will come back in a few, but that she knows the kids are pressing the button.  I stop worrying about Molly and the button...

   Just as I suspected, the larger size fits.  Fabulous, at least they will be more comfortable than trying to fit into the too small bras I have at home.  The clerk returns, and I open the door for her. She is surprised that the larger cup size fits as well as it does, and then says, "You must have a lot of breast tissue under your arms??"  I hesitate after her statement, try not to be offended, ask her opinion about the fit, and watch my daughter bolt to the opposite side of the dressing room.  Oh...Dear...God.  "Molly!! Come back over here right now..."  Molly, turns and giggles, runs again.  The clerk has left, I am topless except for their bra. The door to the dressing room has closed.  Molly gets ready to run again.  I simply don't have time to put on a shirt.  I run after her, snatch her up, and whisper threats of spanking into her ear.  She starts to cry.  Then I want to cry as I realize I am standing in my underwear outside of a locked dressing room door.  Luckily, Colin is on the other side.  He puts down Angry Birds long enough to let us back in.

  I get dressed, and we head out to see if there are any other colors available in the styles that worked for me.  I know I am totally pushing my luck, and that I should run with the three bras I have in my hands, but I decide to tempt fate.  Molly decides to play hide and seek.  I am an unwilling participant.  I can't find her anywhere.  As the panic in my voice increases, a nice woman points to a table of panties that seems to be giggling.  "I think she is under here...I am a teacher, and I have three of my own.  I totally understand."  I come over, thank her, and snatch my daughter from under the table.  I smile, and lean over to threaten my daughter's life.  As I cash out, I realize how little dignity I have left.  I just want to take my underwear and run.  I smile, and explain to the cashier that it is Spring Break, so I had to bring them with me.  My trips to Victoria's Secret during Spring Break used to be so different...

   Off to the Disney Store as promised.  They pick out small toys that I approve, and we wait to cash out.  As the cashier asks if she can get me anything else, I say, "Not unless you have some Valium back there."
She responds, "No Ma'am, we don't(while laughing)."  Me "But I thought this was the happiest place on earth??" I shrug my shoulders, and head out with both children.  At least my breasts will be appropriately lifted while I am working this weekend.  I suppose my mission was accomplished.

So, let me get this straight...

   I think this will be best illustrated with pictures...

Giant, creepy looking Bunny, OK with Molly.  In fact, she called him cute.

Nice old man with candy and promises of gifts, not cool at all.

    I am sure I don't have to explain to you which one would concern me if I were a child.  But we all know Molly marches to the beat of her own drummer.  I was worried about taking them for bunny pictures for a couple of reasons. The first one being that I figured Molly would be scared out of her mind.  The second reason was that I am fully convinced that someone has been slipping my children "speed" behind my back over the past week.  They have been positively vibrating out of their skin.  To say they have been challenging this week would be an understatement.  To whomever has been slipping them the drugs...you may stop now.  While I am sure that it is amusing to watch me struggle, I am quickly losing my sense of humor with the situation.  Or you could at least have the courtesy to slip me a Xanax as well...

   So Sandra and I decided to hit the mall after school for lunch and an attempt at pictures with the giant bunny.  I warned Sandra that the kids were in rare form, but it seemed like it was a better idea than watching them bounce off the walls at home. I should have known that the fact that I actually "lost" Molly in the preschool before we ever left the building was a bad sign.  Sadly, she is getting much better at Hide and Seek. We enter the mall food court, and Sandra can tell right away that Molly is in her own little world.  I spend the entire time reseating Molly, putting her in timeout, shaking my head, and attempting to get both children to eat something.  We finally leave the food court, and I stop for a refill at Chick fil a.  I have a child pulling on both arms, I am dropping my bag off my shoulder, and trying my best to put the lid back on my beverage.  I asked the guy behind the counter if they had any rum in the back.  He of course responded "Only on Sundays Ma'am."  I smiled, and walked away, hoping I hadn't offended the nice employee of the very Christian restaurant.

    Of course, both children messed up their shirts before the pictures, so we had to run into Crazy 8 and pick up a new polo for Colin.  I was able to salvage Molly's with a baby wipe and a little extra effort.  As we are making our way to the bunny, and Sandra observes me chase Molly down yet again, she says "You know, I wouldn't judge you if you drugged them with some benadryl today."  I of course snap back with "I am thinking a crushed Percocet or a Valium in their juice, you are being generous."  Thank God for friends(and readers) that realize when you are joking.  

   While waiting for our turn with the Bunny, Sandra mentions how all of the chocolate, cookies, and ice cream are taunting her.  I laugh and add "That is what is taunting you??   The waistband of my jeans is taunting me."  Needless to say, I am yet again struggling with my weight.  It just keeps packing on, and I can't get motivated to do anything but complain about it.  As you can see, the photos with the bunny went well.  Molly thought he was both cute and fuzzy.  She still stands by the fact that Santa in scary.  Of course, picking out the photos after the fact became very challenging.  Molly pressed buttons on their computers, Colin hit something while she was attempting to make my photo CD, both children picked up every piece of paper they could get their hands on.  I tried to keep my cool while picking my three poses.  As I start to pay the sales girl asks if I would like to donate a dollar to "save the children."  I tell her "Sure, but will that cover saving my own children?? Because they are the ones that are going to need some help..."  Sandra just smiles and shakes her head.

   As I tried to make a relatively graceful exit from the premises, I spot a Starbucks, wishing they served coffee drinks complete with a little liquor to take the edge off of the rest of the day.  I miss my stroller.  Sure it was bulky, heavy, and kind of a pain to steer, but 5 point restraints are a gift straight from God to mommies.  I escaped with both of my whirling dervishes/Tazmanian devils trailing behind me.  Mommy mission complete.  Children are fed, children have played at mall playground, adorable pictures with bunny complete.  I suppose the day is a win.  Even if I required 800 mg Motrin, 50 mg of Benadryl, a giant rum and coke, and a back rub just to get to sleep.  A day in the life of Heidi...exhausting, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.  Well...maybe it would be nice if Molly stopped moving at some point during the day besides when she sleeps.  

   

Adventures with Molly this week...

    As if I needed any more reasons to be self conscious about my body, Molly decided to give me yet another one to ponder.  After getting out of the shower, I was standing in my room looking for some jammies to put on my naked body.  Molly walked up behind me, and started beating on my bottom like it was a set of tom-tom drums.  I was more than a little horrified, but I decided to ask her what she was doing.

Me "Molly, what are you doing??"

Molly "Drums!!"

Me "Molly, that is my bottom, not a drum.  Do you mind?"

Molly "Drums!!!"

Me "Molly...Why are you hitting mommy's bottom?"

Molly "(giggling the whole time) Because it is all wiggly...(giggles some more)"

Me "Well...could you please stop hitting my bottom, it isn't very nice.  It kind of makes Mommy sad."

Molly "Awwww...OK" (walks away with a sad face)

   Of course, last night, I made the mistake of removing the pads from my bra in front of her.  They were extra, and getting on my nerves.  No one in my cup size should need pads the size of throw pillows inside their bra...anyway, she was fascinated.  I placed the pads on the dresser, and she quickly asked, "Mommy, what are Those???(with a tone of awe that can not be conveyed in words alone).  I replied, "Well, I guess they are pillows for mommy's boobies."  I really didn't have a good explanation.  I suppose she will understand one day.  I left the room for a quick trip to the bathroom.  I returned to find my daughter shoving the pads into her T-shirt.  She was giggling, and squishing them together under the fabric.  She was very sad they wouldn't stay under her shirt.  I couldn't help but laugh.

  Finally, as we walked around the grocery store last night, I gave Molly my phone to entertain her for a few minutes.  She is difficult to keep happy in "baby lockdown."  You know, any sort of restraining device...So while she is in the cart, she needs distraction so that she doesn't demand to get down and "help."  Her "help" is always trouble in a store.  Anyway, she was playing games for a little while, and then she switched over to the camera for entertainment.  I was busy attempting to remember what we needed from the store while she was busy snapping pictures.  We had made it to the frozen foods section, when we had our first complaint about the pictures she was taking.  Molly snapped a photo of a man walking by.  He stopped, and felt the need to make a sarcastic comment.

Man "I think she just took my picture..."
Me (unsure if he wants me to apologize) "Ummm, sorry.  She might have."
Man "I suppose it is a good thing I am not in the witness protection program..."
Me (shrugging my shoulders) "Just be glad you weren't naked after your shower like I was the other day when she was taking photos...If it makes you feel any better, I removed the auto upload feature after that incident."
Man (shakes head and walks away)

   He obviously does not have small children...Thank God she is so stinkin adorable :)

Poor girl...and so it begins :)

   Today, while I was picking up the kids at school, Colin told me about a new boy in his "grade."  The boy may not be new, he may just be new to Colin.  He started telling me that now I needed to meet both boys.  He has recently been talking about one little boy in his class that he wants to invite over to play.  We will call him "James."  I am excited that he is making friends, and I want to try and make it happen.  So I start asking about the new little boy he is mentioning. For the purpose of the story, I will call him "Bob." I don't know the little boys, or their mothers, so I would hate to use actual names for fear of offending anyone. Our conversation went something like this...

Colin "Mommy, I want you to meet Bob.  He is in my grade.  And you still need to meet James and his mommy."
Me  "OK, is Bob new?  I haven't heard that name before."
Colin "Yeah...but I don't want him to talk to Molly."
Me  "OK bud, why not?  Did he say something to Molly that you didn't like"
Colin "No...I just don't want Molly to answer him."
Me "Did he ask Molly a question?? Did he say something mean to her??"
Colin  "No, I just think you need to meet him.  He is in my grade.  He shouldn't be talking to Molly.  Molly should only talk to boys who are three."
Me  "OK...What happened Colin?  Is he nice? Is he a new friend?  Do you want him to come over and play too?"
Colin  "Well, I just didn't like the way he looked at Molly. He should talk to big kids, not Molly."
Me "I see...You know, Molly can talk to kids who are 4 and 5 as well.  She has friends who are different ages.  Like Jack and Lila.  They are different ages.  It is OK.  Molly might have friends sometimes that are in different grades."
Colin "Yeah...not Bob though.  He shouldn't talk to her..."

   I have no idea what happened on the play ground today.  I am sure it was completely harmless, but it sure made me giggle.  Poor Molly has a long road ahead of her.  Apparently Colin is already overprotective, and he is only 5.  She may never get to date, especially if that guy is in Colin's "grade."  Glad to know that Mike and I have back up when it comes to that time.