Think outside the box, inside the bathroom

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The other morning, I was braiding Jenna’s hair before school.

We’re facing the mirror together, and talking about lots of important things.

She starts: “Mom…… why does daddy always get to sleep in YOUR bed?”

Good question.

And I love that she just knows it’s MY bed, and her father is obviously  bordering on  rude for still occupying that space at night…..just ASSUMING he has the right….geez……

Also, she is looking to get him out so she can take that spot, but she’s subtle enough to not bring that up just yet.

So I say “Hmmmmmm, well I don’t know Jenna, where else would he sleep??”

She’s clearly thought this out, because she answers immediately, no hesitation.

“Well, why don’t we just get some blankets, and pillows, and make him a bed somewhere else? Like maybe in his bathroom?

Another great idea…. and it would make things a lot more convenient for him as well.

She did eventually offer to let him make a bed for himself in our room…and even said she’d help him build it.

Good compromise.

 

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Facing the harsh reality

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We just got back from a week long vacation in Mexico.

Like last year, we spent a week sunning, swimming, stuffing our faces, napping, and waking up to start the cycle all over again.

As is the case with all good things, it was over too fast.

Even though I had gotten to the point of just eating fruit for breakfast because I simply could not stuff myself three times a day for a whole week…. I still enjoyed it.

Coming home for me meant remembering how to cook, ugh. And before that, going to the grocery store and buying food to do something with at home.

The kids and I walked through Trader Joe’s in a daze, them asking why can’t we just live in Mexico, me trying to find that secret aisle that will have everything I need to make fast, easy, delicious, healthy dinners for the next week without having to THINK about it.

The 4 year old probably got hit the hardest since we’ve been back home.

It didn’t take her more than a couple days on vacation to recognize what “all inclusive” means in terms of eating options…. and before long she stopped going up to the buffet with me all together. Instead, she chose to relax at the table, and airily directed me to bring her back an assortment of things to try.

Today, on our first morning back, she is requesting sushi, chocolate pastry, and maybe a waffle if it’s not too much trouble.

The stark reality of cold cereal and orange juice left her looking a little shell shocked…..

 

 

 

Identity theft

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I’m sitting on the floor as Jenna paces around me, trying to get the boys to come up from the basement.

She yells for them to come up, they ignore her.

Then she has a great idea.

She whispers to me, “I’m pretending I’m you….”

Yells again:

“I’m momma!!, Come upstairs!”

Big smile on her face, this is definitely going to work.

Looks at me, leans over and whispers again:

“Don’t worry….you’re still you….”

Whew!

Do it like a girl

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I took the kids to see a movie today, and noticed something while watching the previews.

Have you noticed there are more movies with leading female roles? Strong, tough, hard-ass females? There is some wonder-woman movie coming out, looks GREAT. And some kind of transformers movie, with a strong, young female lead. In the preview she’s actually saying how she used to get made fun of for doing things like a girl…. fighting like a girl, running like a girl. As she’s talking, you see her basically saving the world all by herself.

The preview ends with her saying yeah, she does do all those things like a girl…. don’t you?

Oh! Good one!

I really love that we are seeing this, that my daughters are seeing this. While feminism still sounds like a bad word to many, there are more people understanding what it means as well. I’m still figuring it out…

I still find myself saying things like “he was crying like a little girl….”, which is obviously something I would be kidney punched for if said in the wrong company.

It’s something I need to work on.

The other day, I was seeing a patient…. a very ornery older man, and at one point I called him “honey”. He wasted NO time telling me that he is NOT my honey. I thought it was a great lesson for myself, because as much as I don’t like strange men saying that to me, I somehow thought that my being a female, maybe also a mom, gave me the right to be that familiar with someone. Because it must be clear that I wasn’t hitting on him, or trying to make him feel inferior…. cause I’m a female, and therefore just comforting and maternal, right?!

Why should I just expect him to think that?

For all he knows, I’m some lecherous woman who has a thing for very sickly and elderly men.

Clearly I need to rethink my view on many things.  A comforting hug to me could be seen as a furtive grope to someone else. Yikes.

Now, in this case, his virtue was in no danger from me. He didn’t seem to feel threatened or uncomfortable….. just a guy, looking for any way to express his distaste for all human kindness… but this is the closest I’ve ever been  to the other side of that pervy encounter that so many females have endured. So I’ll use it as a lesson anyway, and think twice before I’m so generous with my “honey’s and sweeties”…

Chalk it up to this equality business.

 

 

How much do I love vomit? Let me count the ways…

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The past month or two, the youngest two are competing for title of “sickest kid”. This isn’t sick in a good way,this is just sick, regular sick.

Highlights include Sammy missing three days of school in a ROW, followed by Jenna waking up in the middle of the night to vomit in bed (two nights in a row).

I’ve mentioned vomit before, as I’ve had plenty of run-ins due to my excessive progeny. I used to call it puke, but I’m feeling less than friendly and I think vomit is a little more reserved. So it knows I’m not very happy with it.

Two nights of complete bed changes, bathing and hair washing, you think you know what’s up… you think you’ll be ready next time 3am rears it’s ugly, nauseous head.

But again, vomit likes to surprise us. Poor kid is sitting on the potty the next day and ends up vomiting all down the front of herself, getting the stuff everywhere in the bathroom EXCEPT in the toilet.

It’s fine, really. She’s a trooper, and thankfully that ended her surprise attacks of emesis…for now…..

Today, I’m here to report that we have moved on to Strep Throat. It’s official, and she gets to start the pink medicine we all cherished in childhood. I have to fight the urge to take a swig just to see if it’s the same as I remember.

People are starting to forget about us though… as we’ve been trying to avoid all human contact as soon as new symptoms start to show up so we don’t infect the earth.

Playdates, birthday parties, any social activity…all on hold…. every weekend we end up isolating ourselves to save our loved ones from the illness we have been wallowing in.

Uh oh.

As I type she has just announced to me that her belly hurts and taken up position lying on the kitchen floor. Not sure what is going to happen next…. but I’m considering a plastic wrap to cover the entire house. Just to be safe.

Wish us luck friends!

 

 

 

 

 

Letter to self…revisited

Paczki

It has been one year exactly. My Facebook feed reminded me of this gem of a post, and I just have to say that the person responsible for it (see below) is pure genius.

I have a chance, and a plan, and my Fat Tuesday goal will be realized!!!  A year after writing this letter to myself, I suppose I should respond to my suppositions and speculations….

………….Last year………

I was nominated to write a letter to myself, the future me of 1 year from now. Thanks to Amanda at “Just in Queso” for thinking of me, and actually reading my blog! I thought this was really just a punishment for my kids and a way to embarrass my husband, I sometimes forget that anyone else would have a reason to stop by 🙂

The rules are as follows:

  1. Tag the letter under “dearfuturemetag”
  2. Write a letter to yourself to read again in a year’s time. You can answer then if you’d like.
  3. Nominate other bloggers. (My nominees are at the end of this post)

I think this request could not come at a better time, as today is Fat Tuesday and I have, for the 2nd year in a row, flopped horribly at my goal of eating myself into a stupor. I have a goal for the future me……..

Dear Self,

Today is February 9, 2017. A year ago was Fat Tuesday, and I am sure you can still taste the disappointment. It tastes nothing like a cream filled Paczki.

Because of the wondrous and possibly miraculous way that Easter changes from year to year, the future me-you-now has the opportunity to fix your two year slump and arrange for a perfect, delicious, and calorie-laden Fat Tuesday. Because this year it falls on February 28th. WEEKS from now.

So! No time to waste. You will not have a breakfast of minty chewing gum this year. You will not scarf down some yogurt and grapes in the afternoon…these things should be outlawed on Fat Tuesday…there will be no excuse for healthy eating this year. Not on THIS day.

I assume you are finally working out again regularly……and surely have beaten your daily cravings for chocolate and candy during the rest of the year. I am sure your typical weekday dessert is just your Vitamin D gummies, although you probably should stop eating three times the recommended dose….

Keeping these things in mind, you have time to plan for Fat Tuesday 2017 without a lot of guilt. And yes, it should read like a headline. It is your day to shine.

As of today (your today, my year from today), you have 19 days to get yourself prepared. Take the day off. Don’t be surprised if your Google calendar reminds you that you already TOOK the day off, because I can do that from here. No more thinking about sweet and savory treats as you are stuck working all day, starving…. remember Fat Tuesday 2015? Wasn’t pretty. No more running from appointment to appointment with various kids, with no time to spare for even a Starbucks run. Hello Fat Tuesday 2016, still a little too fresh.

Be glad the kids have school. They will only slow you down that day. You are allowed to share the day with a friend though…but choose wisely. It must be someone who will keep up with you. Much like going to Cedar point as a kid, with a friend who won’t ride the coasters….. don’t pick anyone who isn’t willing to ride all the rides. Even the ones that make you throw up. Actually, if you do it right…. you should almost want to throw up by the time you are done. Almost.

Make a list. You love lists. What MUST you have on Fat Tuesday, the fattest day of the year? Especially since you are now being so good all the rest of the year…..

Think classics. Like Alfredo sauce (not on pasta, only to dip breadsticks into). Chocolate lava cake. Make the calories count! Don’t you dare touch chocolate from Drug Mart, unless is it one of those nougats from Russell Stover. The pink kind that is really chewy with nuts or something in it. Those are amazing. Remember, they are rectangles.

As for me, well, as  you can see from looking in the mirror… I’ve been working hard on getting you into shape. Training for this day. Make me proud. Tomorrow I will eat salad, and force myself to start the daily workouts, don’t waste my efforts. I’m passing you the torch now…… run with it. Carry it to our day of hedonistic indulgence, make our dreams a reality. Those dreams of hot fudge, maraschino cherries, and liberal dustings of powdered sugar.

 

My nominations are:

  1. https://deadbeatmom.wordpress.com/
  2. https://doctorly.wordpress.com/

………And now current year……….

Well, I did work out…. and then I didn’t. Back to that later.

Gummy vitamins remain my emergency dessert…. although if there is chocolate ever in the house, it is not safe from me.

I’m planning to make a chocolate lava cake right NOW actually…to practice for Fat Tuesday.

Just in Queso, and anything queso actually….. is pretty damn awesome.

Over my head over here

 

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Looks are deceiving

 

I find the kids really annoying today.  It’s true. Kids ARE annoying.

Usually we all manage to put up with each other, as I’m sure I might possibly annoy them too.

But today…..

It has been a day of them egging each other on, teasing and poking each other, being loud and obnoxious in public….. Today they are the kids that people who don’t have kids see, and then think to themselves “I’m so glad I decided not to have kids”.

I think the last straw was in the hardware store. I just needed to get ONE THING. Well, two things.  A battery for the fire alarm that won’t stop chirping (also annoying) and some hardware to fix my towel rack.

As I walk with them, I stay between them so they can’t poke and tickle each other and try to keep their volume to a minimum. Jenna refuses to walk in a straight line, and at one point just collapses on the floor in a giggling heap. Pulling her up is impossible, she keeps her knees bent and won’t bear her own weight.

They find this hilarious. Me, not so much.

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My whispered threats of beatings once we are out of the public eye are not taken seriously, they know I’m bluffing.

They’ve reached that point of silliness that just doesn’t stop. We’ve all been there. The point where the laughter just doesn’t end, no matter what danger it may put them in.  They needed something to snap them out of it, a shock to the system.

Getting them buckled into their seats, I see the answer.

I had just bought them each a small box of valentine candy at the chocolate store. I glared at them, grabbed those boxes, and took them to the front seat with me.

I ignore their renewed attempts to annoy me. YES, they were now doing it on purpose! I open a box, and start eating it piece by piece, keeping my eyes ahead of me. Suddenly they aren’t laughing so hard.

“You can’t eat our candy!”

“Oh YES I can. I bought it. It’s MY candy.”

Seething from the back. From Jenna especially, you don’t mess with her chocolate.

To further illustrate how I am the boss of them, I pull into the Starbucks line. Order myself a tea and NO CAKE POPS.

I drive away and smile to myself as they sit, stunned, in the back.

Jenna is absolutely outraged.

She starts on a rant about how I don’t even love them because I took their candy and I’m not a good mom. Of course I have to return with how good kids listen to their parents and they weren’t being good for me.

“So, you don’t love us!” She’s not asking. She’s accusing.

“You don’t love us and maybe you don’t want to be our mom!”

I’m amused now, chocolate and tea has restored my humor. So I respond:

“I never said I don’t love you, are you saying you want a different mom?”

She doesn’t come out and say it, but she’s heading in that direction. I get a speech filled with 4  year old logic about how it’s physically impossible for a parent to actually love a child if they take candy from them. And maybe it’s time for us to part ways. Not that she doesn’t love me, but maybe we need a break. And besides, if I send her to a different house, they’ll probably have a dog.

I promised her there would not be a dog. She’s stuck with me, and her chocolate was delicious.