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.

tiny pole dancers??

Ok...forgive the blurry photo.  But is it just me, or does this picture just seem wrong on so many levels.  I suppose I should be glad that the only child in focus is my own.  It made me laugh every time a kid climbed on to play.  Start them early :)  Who needs a college fund when they can practice pole dancing in preschool??

"Doctor Mommy, Come quick!!"

  So one of Molly's Christmas gifts from Santa was a doll with a doctor's kit included.  Molly loves it, and lately, I have been helping her triage all of the baby dolls in her room.  Of course, this can take some time.  She makes up different diagnoses for each doll.  Nothing too complex, but some have tummy aches, some have ear aches.  You get the picture.  I am Dr. Mommy.  This is what she calls me.

   This morning, it came as no surprise when she called into the hallway,

Molly "Dr. Mommy, come quick.  The babies are all sick..."
Me "Oh no, what's wrong Molly?"
Molly "No! Not Molly...Dr. Molly."
Me "Oh, I see...What is wrong with the babies Dr. Molly??"
Molly "They all have germs in their bellies.  They keep throwing up."
Me "Oh no, that is quite the problem Dr. Molly."
Molly "Yes, I need your help Dr. Mommy."
Me "We might need a nurse as well...Sounds like this could get messy."
Molly "Yes, can you find a nurse Dr. Mommy?"

    Maybe all of that Grey's Anatomy I watched while she was in utero actually seeped into her little brain??  She sounded like she was straight off a medical drama.  I had to laugh.  I wonder if I will have to call her Doctor all day??

"You can judge, or you can help..."

   So this story actually happened a couple of years ago, but I recently had some requests for it to be told again at the nurse's station.  It was PB, you know (pre blog).  So I figured it deserved a post, even if it was a few years ago.  Colin was about 2.5 y/o and Molly was right at a year.  I was overly tired and exhausted (Big Surprise), and feeling like a caged animal at the house.  I needed to get out for a little while.  So, even though it was around 8 AM, I decided to hit the Chick-fil-a down the street.  I figured Colin could play in the indoor playground, and Molly and I could split some chicken minis.  While I never claimed to be Super Mom, or even claimed that I did it well with two little ones, I was never one to stay at home all of the time.  Even after Molly.  Despite feeling overwhelmed, and frequently wondering how I would make it out of the situations with both my pride and children intact, I still went out with both kids.  I made it happen.  Just sometimes...well let's just say, sometimes it went better than others.  This time was one of the latter...

   We all three entered the Chick-fil-a, and for some reason, I decided to head in without my lifesaving device...my double stroller.  I figured it was small restaurant, who needs the double stroller to walk ten feet in the parking lot??  So I throw my sweet little chubby Molly on my hip, and grab my son's chubby little hand in mine, and we waltz into our local Chick-fil-a.  I order our food with very little trouble, and I am very happy to realize that they will bring the food to our table.  Because even the simple things like carrying a tray of food while hauling around two very small children can be incredibly difficult.  I scope out a table right next to the play area, grab a high chair, and strap Molly in.  I let Colin in to the play area and watch as he tries to heave himself up onto the next level of the play space with his stubby little legs.  He seems to be about 2 inches too short for this playground, but he still wants to play.  I am forced to stand at the door of the play area and spot my little dude as he enters the play space.  He is stubborn and determined, so I know there is no getting him out of there at this point no matter how difficult it is for both of us.  Poor Molly is left sitting at the table with a few hashbrowns to occupy her, and she is beginning to get distressed by my partial absence. I am within reaching distance the entire time, but my attention is definitely divided.

    Of course, I left out a very important detail in the beginning of this story.  Due to the early hour, the restaurant is filled with older people trying to enjoy some coffee, and they seemed annoyed by my very presence there at all.  I may have been overly sensitive, but it appeared I had an audience for my every move.  Colin eventually made it to the top of the playground.  Of course, I forgot to consider one very distinct possibility...He was too scared to come down the slide.  I have Molly, and I am not completely sure that I could fit up in the play ground even if I didn't have her with me.  I glance around for any other kids or maybe even a small teenager behind the counter.  Not a one in sight.  I am sure they are all in school.  Fabulous.  I wish I could say that all of the little old ladies were fawning over my kids, and offering to watch my sweet little girl while I attempt a rescue, but that was simply not the case.  I was stranded.  I decided to play it cool, and wait for Colin to decide he could make it down the slide.  The one thing I did have going for me was that he wasn't stressed about the situation.  Thank God.  So I sit, and wait...

    And then it hits me...That horrible feeling.  You know the one.  When the coffee and the greasy food come together in your gut and decide they want out.  Not in a few minutes...but NOW.  I hear my stomach start to grumble, and I shift uncomfortably.  Oh my God...I need to use the bathroom.  My 2 y/o is stuck at the top of the play ground, my baby can't even walk, let alone stand in the bathroom, and I am nearly incapacitated by the cramping.  I am in a cold, diaphoretic sweat.  I can just hold Molly on my lap in the bathroom, but I can't leave Colin unattended in the play area.  In fact, I have no idea how to even get him down, let alone into the bathroom.  I stand at the bottom of the slide, begging him to come down.  I offer ice cream, cookies, a new Thomas Train, all while I dance around with his sobbing sister on my hip.  By this time, the poor thing has figured out that Mommy is stressed, so now she is as well.  By the grace of God, Colin finally slides down the slide.  I grab the poor little guy under my arm.  He is kicking and screaming.  Now that he has figured out how fun the slide is, he wants to go again.  I make the mistake of setting him down for a minute, and he starts to climb back up the playground.  I grab him and exit the play area with a child flailing under each arm.  Both kids are crying...admittedly, I must have been a sight to see.  I heave both children up a little higher, grab my bag, and attempt an exit.  At this point, the entire restaurant has stopped to stare, coffee cups paused at their lips, some even shaking their heads.  I am standing at the door with at least 50+ lbs of baby flailing under my arms, praying someone will at least open the door.  I look around, and I finally just say out loud "You can judge, or you can help...(long pause while I pray someone gets up to help)Well, alrighty then."  I kick the door open, and somehow I get both children into the car.  Not a single soul moved to help me get out the door.

    I rush home, which was luckily right around the corner, and run inside, right to our bathroom.  I left both children buckled in their car seats.  By the time I reached our house, the emergency was at a code red level. There was no time to unhook the children.  I left them tear stained and confused and while mommy ran upstairs in an attempt to maintain what was left of my pride.  The good news, I doubt the children are scarred from that trip.  They don't have any strange aversions to Chick-fil-a.  I, on the other hand, seriously consider my diet, my beverages, and map out an escape plan every time I enter a situation with both children.  Even now...In fact, I can safely say it was quite the learning experience for me...

My life...stuck in a spelling bee

   I don't know if you know what it is like to be around a 3 and a 5 year old all day long, but the endless stream of questions can be mentally exhausting.  They simply never stop.  I know, I know, that is how the little guys learn. And far be it from me not to want to help them learn and thrive in our world.  I want them to be smart. I love that they are curious and that they are so proud of themselves when they spell something correctly.  Of course, in the mean time, let's just admit it...it can get annoying.  We wait so long for them to start talking.  Well, I did at least.  Both kids were late talkers.  I kind of figured it was God's idea of a little joke.  You know, the girl that never stops talking has kids that don't talk at all.  Well, in the end, they are both talking just fine.  In fact, they rarely stop...unless they are sleeping.

   Both kids love to ask how to spell words, especially when we are driving.  Colin is getting pretty good.  He is learning to read quickly, and he can sound out a lot of things on his own.  Of course, now Molly has entered this phase full force.  Spelling and "Why?" questions...The kids had their mid year evaluations a few weeks ago.  One of the things Molly needs to work on is knowing her full name and that Mommy has a name other than Mommy.  While riding in the car the other day, I started to quiz her for a change.

Me "Molly, how do you spell Molly??"
Molly "M-O-L-L-Y"
Me "How do you spell Mommy??"
Molly "M-O-M-M-Y"
Me "Did you know that your whole name is actually Molly Elizabeth Bryan?"
Molly "Yes (giggles)"
Me "What is Mommy's whole name?"
Molly "Mommy Bryan..."
Me "Well, actually my whole name is Heidi Bryan.  Just you and Colin call me Mommy."
Molly "No...You are mommy.  Not Heidi.(giggles again as if I have lost my mind) Mommy, how do you spell school?"
Me "S-C-H-O-O-L.  Let's try to spell your whole name again.  Maybe just Molly Bryan??"
Molly "Yeah...no thanks.  Hmmm...How do you spell chocolate??"
Me "C-H-O-C-O-L-A-T-E"
Molly "That's a long word mommy...can we get some chocolate on our way home?"

   At least the girl has her priorities straight :)  Chocolate first.  Who needs to know their own name if they have enough chocolate??