Morgan is a nut, but lately she's been saying some of the craziest things that are too good to not share.
On a daily basis she tells me I need to settle down. Especially this morning when I was doing a Jesco White jig to Jingle Bells at 8:30am. She stood with her hands on her hips and said in a firm voice, 'Mom, you need to settle down.'
My mom bought her a little purple Christmas tree for her bedroom and the cats are fascinated by it. They keep pawing at the ornaments. Last night she was hysterical when she thought one of the cats ate one of the ornaments and kept screaming 'you have to burp him to bring it back up!' until we found the ornament had just been knocked under her bed.
Every single day she begs me to go shopping. When I tell her we don't have any money she says 'that's okay, you have credit cards.'
Today while trying to do some online Christmas shopping, I hear 'look mommy I have a tail!' and she runs in with her pants down and a 'tail' of toilet paper tucked between her butt cheeks.
After her gymnastics class this evening I told her she had to wash her hands to get the germs off and she replied 'no thanks, I want to keep my germs, they are my friends.'
Which reminds me...last week she picked a booger that she called her best friend.
I mean seriously, is there a full moon?
I'm totally keeping a list of these things to pass out to any guy she might drag home when she's a teenager.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
why I refuse to be an Elf Mom
I have recently posted on Facebook about how I refuse to do Elf on the Shelf. I received a lot of feedback from other moms that claim their kids love the Elf, and I believe them! And I know my kids would love it (well Morgan might...Jack would just want to chew on him). Some moms are posting all these awesomely creative pictures with random things the Elf has done...and kudos to you Elf moms! You are a better mom than me, I admit it.
So why won't I participate?
Here's my list:
1. My brain is surrounded in a fog. I'm lucky to remember to wear pants when I go out to check the mail, much less come up with creative things for the Elf to do every single night.
2. The Elf is CREEPY! I mean seriously, that thing could cause major nightmares that would requires years of therapy to recover from. Not for my kids, for me. And my cats.
3. Although creative, and I am 190% sure kids LOVE it, I do NOT have time to do the tricks that Pinterest suggests. TP my Christmas tree? WHAT Christmas tree? We haven't even had time to purchase and decorate our tree. Marshmallow fight in the kitchen with Barbie? Seriously? After Jack blows raspberries splattering half a jar of baby food peaches across my kitchen, I am lucky to get that mess cleaned up before somebody slips and falls in it, and can't even comprehend the idea of throwing mini marshmallows all over the place and THEN having to clean that up.
4. I don't understand the purpose of the Elf. He's supposed to watch my kids and report their behavior to Santa? Well why is the Elf so bad? Can't I report HIM to Santa? Or just throw him outside and wait for my neighbor's dog to drag him off?
5. Kids aren't supposed to touch the Elf. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Have you met my daughter? She touches EVERYTHING! ...but fruit and vegetables that is. And you're supposed to pretend to send the Elf back to the North Pole or something after he's been touched? Yeah...I would be doing that about once an hour.
6. Okay I'll admit...we haven't even done Santa for Morgan yet. We are never home on Christmas because we live away from both sets of grandparents and are on the road the entire holiday. This is the first year Morgan actually sort of understands the whole Santa concept and honestly it's a big responsibility to keep up with the lie. I can't keep up with the Elf on top of Santa. I am a horrible liar. By the time Morgan is 4 I'm sure I will accidentally forget that she actually CAN hear everything I say and will slip and say something like 'yeah we will probably be up all night playing Santa'....probably while dozing on the couch during Bubble Guppies.
7. An Elf in this house would be a raging alcoholic, I just know it. I would catch him in my freezer going after that bottle of vodka we are saving for a 'special occassion' which in mommyland means 'a night the kids are so bad you wonder why on earth you ever wanted a kid in the first place and then were stupid enough to have another one.'
8. It's just another thing to store!! Right now I am drowning in kid stuff...toys, baby gear, crayons, baby bottles...I can't handle one more thing to find a spot for in this house. Makes my left eye twitch even thinking about it.
So there ya go, call me a party pooper, a bad mom, I don't care. All of you amazing overachieving moms, please feel free to adopt my deprived children during the holidays so they can enjoy the Elf festivities!
So why won't I participate?
Here's my list:
1. My brain is surrounded in a fog. I'm lucky to remember to wear pants when I go out to check the mail, much less come up with creative things for the Elf to do every single night.
2. The Elf is CREEPY! I mean seriously, that thing could cause major nightmares that would requires years of therapy to recover from. Not for my kids, for me. And my cats.
3. Although creative, and I am 190% sure kids LOVE it, I do NOT have time to do the tricks that Pinterest suggests. TP my Christmas tree? WHAT Christmas tree? We haven't even had time to purchase and decorate our tree. Marshmallow fight in the kitchen with Barbie? Seriously? After Jack blows raspberries splattering half a jar of baby food peaches across my kitchen, I am lucky to get that mess cleaned up before somebody slips and falls in it, and can't even comprehend the idea of throwing mini marshmallows all over the place and THEN having to clean that up.
4. I don't understand the purpose of the Elf. He's supposed to watch my kids and report their behavior to Santa? Well why is the Elf so bad? Can't I report HIM to Santa? Or just throw him outside and wait for my neighbor's dog to drag him off?
5. Kids aren't supposed to touch the Elf. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Have you met my daughter? She touches EVERYTHING! ...but fruit and vegetables that is. And you're supposed to pretend to send the Elf back to the North Pole or something after he's been touched? Yeah...I would be doing that about once an hour.
6. Okay I'll admit...we haven't even done Santa for Morgan yet. We are never home on Christmas because we live away from both sets of grandparents and are on the road the entire holiday. This is the first year Morgan actually sort of understands the whole Santa concept and honestly it's a big responsibility to keep up with the lie. I can't keep up with the Elf on top of Santa. I am a horrible liar. By the time Morgan is 4 I'm sure I will accidentally forget that she actually CAN hear everything I say and will slip and say something like 'yeah we will probably be up all night playing Santa'....probably while dozing on the couch during Bubble Guppies.
7. An Elf in this house would be a raging alcoholic, I just know it. I would catch him in my freezer going after that bottle of vodka we are saving for a 'special occassion' which in mommyland means 'a night the kids are so bad you wonder why on earth you ever wanted a kid in the first place and then were stupid enough to have another one.'
8. It's just another thing to store!! Right now I am drowning in kid stuff...toys, baby gear, crayons, baby bottles...I can't handle one more thing to find a spot for in this house. Makes my left eye twitch even thinking about it.
So there ya go, call me a party pooper, a bad mom, I don't care. All of you amazing overachieving moms, please feel free to adopt my deprived children during the holidays so they can enjoy the Elf festivities!
Friday, November 2, 2012
Campaign what?
So apparently from the amount of campaign mail taking up space in my mailbox and the increase of hateful status updates on Facebook, elections are around the corner. Confirmation of this is the fact that I had 2 political visits at home today, one from the Romneymobile and the other from...no idea but they gave me a packet of info that Morgan has half eaten by now because she chews on paper like gum.
Like my week hasn't been crazy enough, what with having to take Morgan to gymnastics twice (making up a class we missed a couple of weeks ago), dragging Morgan out of bed early for her school Halloween party (she usually goes to school at noon, not 8:45, and yes I had to drag her out of bed at 8...she likes to sleep in), then doing trick or treat evening with both kids...alone...in the cold rain. Morgan was Little Red Riding Hood and Jack was the Big Bad Skunk and only screamed for 20 minutes with his costume on until he passed out in a heap of fake fur on the couch. Luckily one of our neighborhood moms took pity on Morgan and took her up and down our street with her daughter, since I was stuck at home with Jack (no way I was taking him outside to breathe in that cold damp air) then Morgan came back and helped pass out candy. She was a candy bar Nazi...'hey you only get one!' She inherited some frugal traits from her father. But one of her first words was 'Visa' so I still think she's on my side.
Well we survived all of that...and I was sooo looking forward to having a day of rest. Michael is working today and I'm going on about 4 hours of sleep because Jack has been sleeping terrible this week. Apparently he can't breathe around all those boogers and sounds like an asthmatic Pug through the baby monitor, so I've been up a lot with him this week at night.
The doorbell rang earlier today. I HATE when the doorbell rings. I have anxiety about who is on the other side. If I'm not expecting a pizza or a million dollar check, chances are I won't be answering that door. I've had a couple of creepy experiences, like the time some random dude was on my porch with a bottle of Tide wanting to come in my house to show me some carpet cleaning vacuum thing and was very persistent...as if a pushy guy with no name tag or business shirt holding a bottle of Tide on my porch wasn't creepy enough, a white van with tinted windows with a faceless driver staring me down was waiting at the end of my sidewalk. I basically had to slam the door in his face. Then I called Michael. Then I called my mom. Then I loaded Morgan in the car to go shopping until Michael got off work.
So today the doorbell rang and before I could blink, Morgan was unlocking it to answer. It was just a harmless looking lady with earmuffs so I opened the storm door to see what she wanted. She was passing out info on Romney and whoever else. She took pity on me standing there with blue leggings, a homemade tie dyed shirt, a sloppy half ponytail / half bun on the side of my head with a half naked baby (diaper and socks) slobbering all over my shoulder and a toddler with bed hair and underwear picking her nose standing next to me. So she gave me the packet and told me to have a nice day.
About an hour later the doorbell rang again. Once again Morgan was opening the door before I could say anything. This time it was a college aged looking girl. She blah blah blahed who she was affiliated with as I was trying to pull half naked Morgan back in the house and she wanted to ask me a couple of survey questions that she said wouldn't take any time at all so I was like whatever go ahead. She asked me the first question which was something along the lines of 'who will you be voting for president' and as she's asking me, one of our cats darts out the door, which makes Morgan scream and try to run out after him, which makes Jack cry because Morgan screamed. So as I'm trying to shove half naked Morgan back into the house, grab the cat by his tail with my free hand that isn't holding a snotty screaming baby, I answered something like 'not Bush!' which doesn't even make any sense because Bush isn't even running, and I voted for him in 2004, the first and last time I actually voted. So the girl said 'um, okay...who are you voting for Senate?' to which I replied 'I don't even know who's running, I will just go in and vote straight party ticket.' and then the stupid cat tried to escape AGAIN so I don't even remember what the last question was but I answered 'I was raised Republican so that's how I will be voting' as I'm carrying in a wiggly screeching cat that is all poofed out like a cartoon cat and Morgan is screaming 'Mean Kitty you're SO BAD!' and Jack sneezes across my glasses.
She left.
Like my week hasn't been crazy enough, what with having to take Morgan to gymnastics twice (making up a class we missed a couple of weeks ago), dragging Morgan out of bed early for her school Halloween party (she usually goes to school at noon, not 8:45, and yes I had to drag her out of bed at 8...she likes to sleep in), then doing trick or treat evening with both kids...alone...in the cold rain. Morgan was Little Red Riding Hood and Jack was the Big Bad Skunk and only screamed for 20 minutes with his costume on until he passed out in a heap of fake fur on the couch. Luckily one of our neighborhood moms took pity on Morgan and took her up and down our street with her daughter, since I was stuck at home with Jack (no way I was taking him outside to breathe in that cold damp air) then Morgan came back and helped pass out candy. She was a candy bar Nazi...'hey you only get one!' She inherited some frugal traits from her father. But one of her first words was 'Visa' so I still think she's on my side.
Well we survived all of that...and I was sooo looking forward to having a day of rest. Michael is working today and I'm going on about 4 hours of sleep because Jack has been sleeping terrible this week. Apparently he can't breathe around all those boogers and sounds like an asthmatic Pug through the baby monitor, so I've been up a lot with him this week at night.
The doorbell rang earlier today. I HATE when the doorbell rings. I have anxiety about who is on the other side. If I'm not expecting a pizza or a million dollar check, chances are I won't be answering that door. I've had a couple of creepy experiences, like the time some random dude was on my porch with a bottle of Tide wanting to come in my house to show me some carpet cleaning vacuum thing and was very persistent...as if a pushy guy with no name tag or business shirt holding a bottle of Tide on my porch wasn't creepy enough, a white van with tinted windows with a faceless driver staring me down was waiting at the end of my sidewalk. I basically had to slam the door in his face. Then I called Michael. Then I called my mom. Then I loaded Morgan in the car to go shopping until Michael got off work.
So today the doorbell rang and before I could blink, Morgan was unlocking it to answer. It was just a harmless looking lady with earmuffs so I opened the storm door to see what she wanted. She was passing out info on Romney and whoever else. She took pity on me standing there with blue leggings, a homemade tie dyed shirt, a sloppy half ponytail / half bun on the side of my head with a half naked baby (diaper and socks) slobbering all over my shoulder and a toddler with bed hair and underwear picking her nose standing next to me. So she gave me the packet and told me to have a nice day.
About an hour later the doorbell rang again. Once again Morgan was opening the door before I could say anything. This time it was a college aged looking girl. She blah blah blahed who she was affiliated with as I was trying to pull half naked Morgan back in the house and she wanted to ask me a couple of survey questions that she said wouldn't take any time at all so I was like whatever go ahead. She asked me the first question which was something along the lines of 'who will you be voting for president' and as she's asking me, one of our cats darts out the door, which makes Morgan scream and try to run out after him, which makes Jack cry because Morgan screamed. So as I'm trying to shove half naked Morgan back into the house, grab the cat by his tail with my free hand that isn't holding a snotty screaming baby, I answered something like 'not Bush!' which doesn't even make any sense because Bush isn't even running, and I voted for him in 2004, the first and last time I actually voted. So the girl said 'um, okay...who are you voting for Senate?' to which I replied 'I don't even know who's running, I will just go in and vote straight party ticket.' and then the stupid cat tried to escape AGAIN so I don't even remember what the last question was but I answered 'I was raised Republican so that's how I will be voting' as I'm carrying in a wiggly screeching cat that is all poofed out like a cartoon cat and Morgan is screaming 'Mean Kitty you're SO BAD!' and Jack sneezes across my glasses.
She left.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
tub of grease
I'm a sucker for home health remedies. I'm trying to clean up my diet by not eating foods with lots of fake stuff in them (but baked Doritos are SO TASTY), trying to watch my sugar intake (oh my gosh these little pumpkin scones I got at Kroger today are amazing...), and trying to just eat a lot of raw fruits and veggies (and by the way made some veggie dip using plain Greek yogurt instead of sour cream and it wasn't too bad, thank you Pinterest). I'm 33 year old and I'm borderline diabetic. I want to be healthy on the inside and outside. I want to set a good example for my kids. I don't understand the rationale of 'my kid can eat all this junk because she/he has enough energy to just run off all those calories' ...sure, that might be true. But your kid is going to slow down sometime, yet keep the same eating habits. Then you're going to have a fat teenager hiding in his/her bedroom listening to Owl City crying into a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos because he/she can't fit into clothes at Hollister like the cool kids.
But I digress...
A few blogs ago I wrote about the homemade oatmeal mask mess. Well lately my obsession has been coconut oil. Once again you can thank Pinterest. Sometimes I wonder if some random dude is sitting in his basement snorting over some of these posts that have gone viral, laughing to himself because thousands of woman are ravaging the cooking aisle looking for virgin unrefined coconut oil to lather on in the shower.
I don't blame him, it would be pretty darn funny.
A few weeks ago I bought some coconut oil. A big tub of the stuff. I got in the shower and felt a little weird about having a container of something I found next to Crisco, ready to crack it open and slather on my skin. I rubbed in on my arms and legs and it was just WEIRD. So greasy. And it doesn't really wash off. When I got out I was sticking to myself and felt greased up and ready to be served on rice. And the best part is that Michael took a shower after me and accused me of trying to kill him because the tub was so slick.
Pfffft like I would kill him. His life insurance isn't THAT great yet.
So I asked some of my health nut friends what I did wrong? They all asked 'did you buy organic unrefined coconut oil?'
uhhhh...noooo....a small jar was $9.99 for the organic unrefined and the big tub of refined was 5 bucks. The ingredients were the same... I thought it would be fine. Not so much.
So today while Michael was at work and wasn't there to judge me for buying more coconut oil, I dragged my kids to Kroger and bought organic unrefined coconut oil from the healthy market section. When I got home I opened it up and smelled it...it smells like a freshly cracked coconut (and can be used in pineapple upset down cakes according to the label). In the shower I rubbed it on my arms and legs and there was no greasy fast food french fry feeling. It absorbed into my skin and left a nice light coconut smell (there's a slight possibility I might gnaw on my own arm while asleep, I smell that good).
I found a use for the tub o' oil. I love to make my own body scrubs, and I was due to make a new batch, so I mixed together sea salt, olive oil, peppermint essential oil, and the coconut grease oil for a foot/leg scrub and it's AWESOME!
But I digress...
A few blogs ago I wrote about the homemade oatmeal mask mess. Well lately my obsession has been coconut oil. Once again you can thank Pinterest. Sometimes I wonder if some random dude is sitting in his basement snorting over some of these posts that have gone viral, laughing to himself because thousands of woman are ravaging the cooking aisle looking for virgin unrefined coconut oil to lather on in the shower.
I don't blame him, it would be pretty darn funny.
A few weeks ago I bought some coconut oil. A big tub of the stuff. I got in the shower and felt a little weird about having a container of something I found next to Crisco, ready to crack it open and slather on my skin. I rubbed in on my arms and legs and it was just WEIRD. So greasy. And it doesn't really wash off. When I got out I was sticking to myself and felt greased up and ready to be served on rice. And the best part is that Michael took a shower after me and accused me of trying to kill him because the tub was so slick.
Pfffft like I would kill him. His life insurance isn't THAT great yet.
So I asked some of my health nut friends what I did wrong? They all asked 'did you buy organic unrefined coconut oil?'
uhhhh...noooo....a small jar was $9.99 for the organic unrefined and the big tub of refined was 5 bucks. The ingredients were the same... I thought it would be fine. Not so much.
So today while Michael was at work and wasn't there to judge me for buying more coconut oil, I dragged my kids to Kroger and bought organic unrefined coconut oil from the healthy market section. When I got home I opened it up and smelled it...it smells like a freshly cracked coconut (and can be used in pineapple upset down cakes according to the label). In the shower I rubbed it on my arms and legs and there was no greasy fast food french fry feeling. It absorbed into my skin and left a nice light coconut smell (there's a slight possibility I might gnaw on my own arm while asleep, I smell that good).
I found a use for the tub o' oil. I love to make my own body scrubs, and I was due to make a new batch, so I mixed together sea salt, olive oil, peppermint essential oil, and the coconut grease oil for a foot/leg scrub and it's AWESOME!
Monday, October 1, 2012
the big bad skunk and other lovely tales
Sometimes I feel like I'm a contestant in some reality show about parenthood, testing to see if I can make it through each day. Every night I sigh with relief and say to myself 'I survived another day' and know that it's not my day to get voted off the show.
My parents came to visit this weekend and Michael and I took advantage of having babysitters and went to a baseball game in Pittsburgh (my husband is more than addicted to baseball...Cincy Reds...it's a severe obsession, he even bought Jack Cincy Reds diapers...personally I think if you're a huge fan you wouldn't want your infant to poop on your favorite team but what do I know). My parents fell in love with what a good baby Jack is, and the moment they left he cleared out his lungs. He must have been holding in those screams for the 24 hours my parents were visiting, hoping his good behavior would earn him a pony for Christmas. And all day today Morgan has been explaining what all Mimi is getting her for Christmas (I'm sure 99% of it is news to my mom...)
Morgan is picking up some awesome habits at preschool, like severe attitude, and asking 9093482302 billion questions about everything.
'where did the sun go?'
'to sleep.'
'where?'
'behind the clouds.'
'why?'
'because it was sleepy.'
'why?'
'I DON'T KNOW! Because you asked so many questions you made it's brain explode!'
Jack has been secretly injected with some sort of growth hormone and is quickly turning into Baby Hulk. He's 3 months old wearing 6 month old clothes and his favorite activity is 'standing up' which is pretty hilarious because he looks like a little old man that lost his dentures.
Morgan is uber excited for Halloween...even though she doesn't really understand what it is. But after this year she'll understand it's the beginning of what I call 'fat season' (Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day, Easter) where it's candy candy candy for months. She is going to be Little Red Riding Hood this year. She picked it herself! She said it was either that or Rapunzel and personally I'm a little Disney Princessed OUT right now so I have really encouraged the LRRH idea. She has a really cute little dress and cloak. She wants Jack to be the Big Bad Wolf, but he's going to wear this adorable (and expensive...) skunk costume Morgan wore for her first Halloween 3 years ago (it's size 6-12 month but Baby Hulk can fit into it) so I'm trying to convince Morgan there's a Big Bad Skunk in the story but she's not really buying it...
Morgan's latest obsession is Play Doh. It keeps her so busy, like for an hour at a time, which makes Play Doh like squishy gold in my book. The only problem is that I let her play with it while I'm busy with Jack....and a bit ago I noticed the yellow container is empty...so I need to go on a Play Doh hunt. If my mission is a failure, I'll know to be expecting yellow poop tomorrow....
My parents came to visit this weekend and Michael and I took advantage of having babysitters and went to a baseball game in Pittsburgh (my husband is more than addicted to baseball...Cincy Reds...it's a severe obsession, he even bought Jack Cincy Reds diapers...personally I think if you're a huge fan you wouldn't want your infant to poop on your favorite team but what do I know). My parents fell in love with what a good baby Jack is, and the moment they left he cleared out his lungs. He must have been holding in those screams for the 24 hours my parents were visiting, hoping his good behavior would earn him a pony for Christmas. And all day today Morgan has been explaining what all Mimi is getting her for Christmas (I'm sure 99% of it is news to my mom...)
Morgan is picking up some awesome habits at preschool, like severe attitude, and asking 9093482302 billion questions about everything.
'where did the sun go?'
'to sleep.'
'where?'
'behind the clouds.'
'why?'
'because it was sleepy.'
'why?'
'I DON'T KNOW! Because you asked so many questions you made it's brain explode!'
Jack has been secretly injected with some sort of growth hormone and is quickly turning into Baby Hulk. He's 3 months old wearing 6 month old clothes and his favorite activity is 'standing up' which is pretty hilarious because he looks like a little old man that lost his dentures.
Morgan is uber excited for Halloween...even though she doesn't really understand what it is. But after this year she'll understand it's the beginning of what I call 'fat season' (Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's Day, Easter) where it's candy candy candy for months. She is going to be Little Red Riding Hood this year. She picked it herself! She said it was either that or Rapunzel and personally I'm a little Disney Princessed OUT right now so I have really encouraged the LRRH idea. She has a really cute little dress and cloak. She wants Jack to be the Big Bad Wolf, but he's going to wear this adorable (and expensive...) skunk costume Morgan wore for her first Halloween 3 years ago (it's size 6-12 month but Baby Hulk can fit into it) so I'm trying to convince Morgan there's a Big Bad Skunk in the story but she's not really buying it...
Morgan's latest obsession is Play Doh. It keeps her so busy, like for an hour at a time, which makes Play Doh like squishy gold in my book. The only problem is that I let her play with it while I'm busy with Jack....and a bit ago I noticed the yellow container is empty...so I need to go on a Play Doh hunt. If my mission is a failure, I'll know to be expecting yellow poop tomorrow....
Sunday, September 9, 2012
first day of school
So Morgan started preschool last week.
*happy dance*
Many moms dread sending their little ones off to school; they get teary eyed. Not me. I was counting down the days. And I didn't get misty eyed at all. The only tears were from Morgan...because she didn't want to LEAVE preschool. That's why I was so excited to send her. The kid is a social butterfly. She needs people. She gets tired of my face all day every day. She gets tired of being in our house with a newborn with our big trip to Walmart or Kroger once a week and random trips to the doctor. It takes the pressure off me to entertain her and get her out of the house. It makes me feel like a better mommy for letting her have this social and educational experience.
Last spring we did a little research on local preschools and visited several and then made our final decision to send her to a preschool that is very flexible and not so structured. She's only 3 years old after all. There's a school only about a mile from our home that has morning session, afternoon session, or all day session. We are NOT morning people so we opted for the 12-2 session, and it's only 4 days a week, so it gives her a couple of hours of 'out of the house social experience without mommy and away from baby' time each day.
Morgan was so excited to go to school. Almost every day during the summer she asked 'can I go to school now?' honesty, it's the only thing that got her potty trained last spring when we threatened she couldn't go to school until she was out of diapers. I kept telling her 'soon' because she's like a dog, she has no concept of time.
The big day finally arrived. I had a special shirt made for her with a matching bow (see photo below) and we had her backpack packed with...air...because honestly what does a 3 year old need to take to school.
The only catch was the first day was orientation, and it started at 9:30. I know some of you are like 'wahhhhhh my day starts at 5am!' and I'm glad I can't see you sending me stink eye via internet. Morgan stays up late and therefore sleeps late. Horrible habit to start with a kid but it's part of my mommy survival, it works for me, I'm okay with it. I also don't feed her everything organic if you want to judge me for that too.
I set my alarm for 8. I have a 2 month old that eats every 3 hours and I'm exhausted, so I didn't trust myself to be up in time. Jack was up at 7 that morning and we both fell back asleep during the feeding (me holding the bottle and Jack slobbering out the side of his mouth) so it's a good thing I set the alarm. I had an hour and a half to get myself and 2 little kids ready....to drive a mile. First I had to get Morgan up. I turned on her light and she opened one eye and demanded 'what are you doing?' and when I said 'you get to go to school today!' she smiled, but when I left to go do something and then returned to her room she had rolled over and buried her face in her pillow....seriously kid?! So I dragged her out of bed and rolled her into some clothes. Then I got myself dressed. Then I got Jack dressed. Then I tried to get Jack's diaper bag packed since parents were supposed to stay during orientation and I knew my fat boy would be ravenous 3 hours after his last feeding. We have been adding a little oatmeal cereal to his bottles and while trying to open the container we store it in, I dropped it...and baby oatmeal went EVERYWHERE. That stuff is like little tiny flakes of fluff. It was on the counter. The floor. The rug. My foot. A cat. I said a few choice words and then dragged the vacuum in. While using the hose to suck up the mess, the air blowing out of the top of the vacuum blew the oatmeal around making it snow baby cereal in my kitchen. The cats ran through to inspect the commotion and ended up wearing a thin layer of oatmeal making look like they had severe dandruff, and then left a train of cereal as they ran out of the kitchen. In the process of dragging the vacuum around (which was plugged into the wall above the counter) the chord knocked over my beloved morning can of Red Bull spilling it across the counter onto the floor. *SCREAM*
So I had another mess to clean up. I thought about licking it up until I saw there were a few sprinkles of oatmeal and cat hair floating in the pool of Red Bull. I wiped up the last bit of sticky mess from the floor and can hear Jack filling his diaper in the living room. The boy farts like a fat old man and holds on for dear life whatever his little fists can get ahold of while he grunts out a diaper full. While I'm changing him he spits up all over his outfit. So I have to find him a clean outfit. By then it was 9:20 and we needed to be there at 9:30. I herded Morgan down the stairs and strapped Jack into his carried only to find the vehicle was LOCKED. We park in the garage and never lock our cars. I ran back upstairs to check all of Michael's 'dumping spots' for the keys but ended up having to call him at work to ask him where the keys were. He told me they were int he front seat of the car. We always leave our windows down to air the cars out while they are in the garage, but they were just half down this time and the lock button in Land Rovers are in the middle of the car above the CD player, and I couldn't reach the keys in the seat so Michael tells me via phone 'just reach in and open the door'....which I do....and the alarm goes off....so I yell to Michael 'I GOTTA GO!!' while both of my kids scream and cry at the noise which is amplified in the garage until I finally get the key into the ignition and the alarm stops.
By then I've got sweat rolling down my back and my eye is twitching, but I get the kids into the car and we drove all the way to school...a whole mile away...just in time. And Morgan left me standing at the door and didn't look back.
*happy dance*
Many moms dread sending their little ones off to school; they get teary eyed. Not me. I was counting down the days. And I didn't get misty eyed at all. The only tears were from Morgan...because she didn't want to LEAVE preschool. That's why I was so excited to send her. The kid is a social butterfly. She needs people. She gets tired of my face all day every day. She gets tired of being in our house with a newborn with our big trip to Walmart or Kroger once a week and random trips to the doctor. It takes the pressure off me to entertain her and get her out of the house. It makes me feel like a better mommy for letting her have this social and educational experience.
Last spring we did a little research on local preschools and visited several and then made our final decision to send her to a preschool that is very flexible and not so structured. She's only 3 years old after all. There's a school only about a mile from our home that has morning session, afternoon session, or all day session. We are NOT morning people so we opted for the 12-2 session, and it's only 4 days a week, so it gives her a couple of hours of 'out of the house social experience without mommy and away from baby' time each day.
Morgan was so excited to go to school. Almost every day during the summer she asked 'can I go to school now?' honesty, it's the only thing that got her potty trained last spring when we threatened she couldn't go to school until she was out of diapers. I kept telling her 'soon' because she's like a dog, she has no concept of time.
The big day finally arrived. I had a special shirt made for her with a matching bow (see photo below) and we had her backpack packed with...air...because honestly what does a 3 year old need to take to school.
The only catch was the first day was orientation, and it started at 9:30. I know some of you are like 'wahhhhhh my day starts at 5am!' and I'm glad I can't see you sending me stink eye via internet. Morgan stays up late and therefore sleeps late. Horrible habit to start with a kid but it's part of my mommy survival, it works for me, I'm okay with it. I also don't feed her everything organic if you want to judge me for that too.
I set my alarm for 8. I have a 2 month old that eats every 3 hours and I'm exhausted, so I didn't trust myself to be up in time. Jack was up at 7 that morning and we both fell back asleep during the feeding (me holding the bottle and Jack slobbering out the side of his mouth) so it's a good thing I set the alarm. I had an hour and a half to get myself and 2 little kids ready....to drive a mile. First I had to get Morgan up. I turned on her light and she opened one eye and demanded 'what are you doing?' and when I said 'you get to go to school today!' she smiled, but when I left to go do something and then returned to her room she had rolled over and buried her face in her pillow....seriously kid?! So I dragged her out of bed and rolled her into some clothes. Then I got myself dressed. Then I got Jack dressed. Then I tried to get Jack's diaper bag packed since parents were supposed to stay during orientation and I knew my fat boy would be ravenous 3 hours after his last feeding. We have been adding a little oatmeal cereal to his bottles and while trying to open the container we store it in, I dropped it...and baby oatmeal went EVERYWHERE. That stuff is like little tiny flakes of fluff. It was on the counter. The floor. The rug. My foot. A cat. I said a few choice words and then dragged the vacuum in. While using the hose to suck up the mess, the air blowing out of the top of the vacuum blew the oatmeal around making it snow baby cereal in my kitchen. The cats ran through to inspect the commotion and ended up wearing a thin layer of oatmeal making look like they had severe dandruff, and then left a train of cereal as they ran out of the kitchen. In the process of dragging the vacuum around (which was plugged into the wall above the counter) the chord knocked over my beloved morning can of Red Bull spilling it across the counter onto the floor. *SCREAM*
So I had another mess to clean up. I thought about licking it up until I saw there were a few sprinkles of oatmeal and cat hair floating in the pool of Red Bull. I wiped up the last bit of sticky mess from the floor and can hear Jack filling his diaper in the living room. The boy farts like a fat old man and holds on for dear life whatever his little fists can get ahold of while he grunts out a diaper full. While I'm changing him he spits up all over his outfit. So I have to find him a clean outfit. By then it was 9:20 and we needed to be there at 9:30. I herded Morgan down the stairs and strapped Jack into his carried only to find the vehicle was LOCKED. We park in the garage and never lock our cars. I ran back upstairs to check all of Michael's 'dumping spots' for the keys but ended up having to call him at work to ask him where the keys were. He told me they were int he front seat of the car. We always leave our windows down to air the cars out while they are in the garage, but they were just half down this time and the lock button in Land Rovers are in the middle of the car above the CD player, and I couldn't reach the keys in the seat so Michael tells me via phone 'just reach in and open the door'....which I do....and the alarm goes off....so I yell to Michael 'I GOTTA GO!!' while both of my kids scream and cry at the noise which is amplified in the garage until I finally get the key into the ignition and the alarm stops.
By then I've got sweat rolling down my back and my eye is twitching, but I get the kids into the car and we drove all the way to school...a whole mile away...just in time. And Morgan left me standing at the door and didn't look back.
The look of 'fear' on Morgan's face is because I threatened her life if she didn't stop messing up the writing on the white board. I seriously had to fix it 5 times. But unfortunately the result was Morgan's first day of preschool pictures turning out looking like she was scared to death. Sigh.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
sweatin' n swearin'
I'm sitting here drinking iced tea through a straw on the left side of my mouth because I currently have no feeling in the right side due to having a cavity fixed less than an hour ago so I decided to take a break, let my 3 year old destroy my house, let Jack sleep in his swing, let my husband enjoy some time on his computer without giving him the stink eye, and write a blog. It's been a while.
Michael and I have officially dubbed this the 'summer of hell' because seriously if one more thing goes wrong one of us (probably me) is going to lose their sanity. Our current dramas have been having to replace a wheel bearing on our vehicle...which happens to be a Land Rover...don't hate, we got a great deal on it, and after dumping a lot of money and sending it to the Land Rover dealership for multiple issues we know realize why we got such a great deal...but I still LOVE that car and no matter how many times Michael threatens to buy a minivan if I don't let him trade the Land Rover in for some other SUV, I stomp my foot and insist I must keep it because it makes me happy. But since we own a British vehicle, repairs are ridiculously expensive. A wheel bearing would have cost $450...but my thrifty hubby consulted his dad and they decided they could repair it themselves. I told him if the wheel fell off while I was driving I would personally run him over for being so cheap. But with the help of his dad and the tire place down the road, they replaced the wheel bearing for about $115. So far the wheel has not fallen off, and the back of the Land Rover no longer roars like a lost dinosaur.
A week after fixing that problem...our A/C died. The repairmen were at our house for one other issue earlier in the summer ($280...) but yet here we go again with no air. After the kids and sweated it out all night (Michael was working night shift) the repairmen showed up, looked for leaks, found none, refilled the freon and recharged the unit, charged $300 and left....12 hours later our air wasn't working...and it was Saturday, meaning it would have cost $120 for the service call or we could wait until Monday for no charge. So we waited until Monday....only to find out there IS indeed a leak after all and the part has to be ordered....now it's Wednesday...and we are still running fans and sweating like beasts of burden. I hate being hot. It makes me sweat and swear. And there's something about having a hot sticky house that makes it seem even dirtier and smellier than it actually is and my cleaning OCD has been in overdrive...'must...clean...sticky...kitchen...floor...' (with baby wipes under my feet by the way...it works!)
How's baby Jack you ask? He's doing GREAT! He had his 2 month checkup this past Monday and the little chunker is 14 pounds and 24 inches long. He was born tongue tied (meaning the flap of skin under the tongue was tighter than normal) and for some reason they didn't take care of it during his 25 day NICA stay...seriously, as we were signing release papers the doctor was like 'oh and by the way he's tongue tied, might want to get that taken care of...' REALLY?!! So on Monday he got his tongue clipped...I had been dreading it for weeks. Michael took Morgan (our 3 year old) out and the doctor asked if I wanted to stay or step out; I decided to step out....but as soon as the 3 of us stepped out of the room they began the procedure and we could hear Jack screaming and it was like a knife in my heart. My adrenaline kicked in and I swear I could have lifted a baby whale at that moment (just a baby...nothing bigger...) the doctor and intern that helped her brought Jack out to me....he was a livid shade of red and had tears in his eyes (for those of you that don't know, newborns don't cry tears...) and I got him calmed down just in time for his vaccinations, 3 shots in the leg. Once again the wailing commenced.
Jack and I both needed a shot of vodka that day.
But we survived.
Jack's blood pressure is great, his lungs have healed, it's amazing to think of how quickly his little body has recovered. Now he's an eating/pooping machine that occasionally gives us a gummy grin and sleeps a lot. He's been a really good baby compared to Morgan (who cried nonstop, hated everybody and everything, and threw up at least one feeding per day as if to say 'haha! take that! I wasted your money!')
Morgan still adores Jack. I'm amazed at how mothering she is. His carrier is in the middle of the backseat right next to her car seat and she will tell us 'he's spitting, I need a burpy cloth!' and she will clean him up! Whaaaa?? Is this the same kid that claims "I'm too tired, my legs are too tiny..." when asked to clean up the mound of Little People mess that I trip over while carrying a loaded laundry basket? I have been putting both kids in the bath together to save time (it takes 2 hours for bath and bedtime routine!) and the other evening Morgan was playing with something and not even looking at Jack...and he started peeing on her...a constant stream hitting her in side....so as any mother would do, I started laughing so hard I couldn't breathe....so Morgan asked 'what's so funny mommy?' and then looked down and saw that she was getting peed on and said 'OHHH JACK!!' but didn't flip out! I don't think I could have handled getting peed on as calmly as that. This morning she wanted to hold him, and as I was putting him on her lap, fat boy lost some of his breakfast on her legs and she didn't even squirm! She just calmly sat there while I cleaned her up, and then she still wanted to hold him! This is the same kid that flips out if she gets WATER on her! If her clothes she wet she ends up nakey. She's an amazingly weird kid.
Every night after both kids are bathed, in their pajamas, Morgan's teeth are brushed, I get my shower (which is tricky when Michael is working nights...I have to put Jack in his bouncer seat in the bathroom and pray that I can at least wash the shampoo out of my hair before he starts to cry), I get both kids to sleep, I pump one last time, and then I dump both kids in their beds (they usually fall asleep on the couch)....as I collapse in bed for a little reading (I'm currently reading the sequel to Pillars of the Earth...you know, Medieval England...historical fiction...it's what every cool person reads, right?) I realize that the sense of accomplishment I feel for surviving one more day in mommyland...feeding and watering the kids, keeping them entertained (and more importantly...alive), doing loads of laundry (it's amazing how much more laundry I have now with a 24 inch human in the house), keeping my house clean, working on my crochet orders, washing dishes (I don't have a dishwasher), trying to 'workout' (which for now is either a walk around the neighborhood pushing 54 pounds worth of kids in a double stroller until one of them starts to cry, or having a dance party in the living room until Jack covered my shirt in regurgitated breast milk from too much jiggling or Morgan runs head first into the coffee table)...the sense of accomplishment I feel for balancing all of that is more than I ever felt for any college degree...
and now Morgan is rolling in the floor claiming she needs to go to the teeth doctor...time to jump back into mommy duties.
Michael and I have officially dubbed this the 'summer of hell' because seriously if one more thing goes wrong one of us (probably me) is going to lose their sanity. Our current dramas have been having to replace a wheel bearing on our vehicle...which happens to be a Land Rover...don't hate, we got a great deal on it, and after dumping a lot of money and sending it to the Land Rover dealership for multiple issues we know realize why we got such a great deal...but I still LOVE that car and no matter how many times Michael threatens to buy a minivan if I don't let him trade the Land Rover in for some other SUV, I stomp my foot and insist I must keep it because it makes me happy. But since we own a British vehicle, repairs are ridiculously expensive. A wheel bearing would have cost $450...but my thrifty hubby consulted his dad and they decided they could repair it themselves. I told him if the wheel fell off while I was driving I would personally run him over for being so cheap. But with the help of his dad and the tire place down the road, they replaced the wheel bearing for about $115. So far the wheel has not fallen off, and the back of the Land Rover no longer roars like a lost dinosaur.
A week after fixing that problem...our A/C died. The repairmen were at our house for one other issue earlier in the summer ($280...) but yet here we go again with no air. After the kids and sweated it out all night (Michael was working night shift) the repairmen showed up, looked for leaks, found none, refilled the freon and recharged the unit, charged $300 and left....12 hours later our air wasn't working...and it was Saturday, meaning it would have cost $120 for the service call or we could wait until Monday for no charge. So we waited until Monday....only to find out there IS indeed a leak after all and the part has to be ordered....now it's Wednesday...and we are still running fans and sweating like beasts of burden. I hate being hot. It makes me sweat and swear. And there's something about having a hot sticky house that makes it seem even dirtier and smellier than it actually is and my cleaning OCD has been in overdrive...'must...clean...sticky...kitchen...floor...' (with baby wipes under my feet by the way...it works!)
How's baby Jack you ask? He's doing GREAT! He had his 2 month checkup this past Monday and the little chunker is 14 pounds and 24 inches long. He was born tongue tied (meaning the flap of skin under the tongue was tighter than normal) and for some reason they didn't take care of it during his 25 day NICA stay...seriously, as we were signing release papers the doctor was like 'oh and by the way he's tongue tied, might want to get that taken care of...' REALLY?!! So on Monday he got his tongue clipped...I had been dreading it for weeks. Michael took Morgan (our 3 year old) out and the doctor asked if I wanted to stay or step out; I decided to step out....but as soon as the 3 of us stepped out of the room they began the procedure and we could hear Jack screaming and it was like a knife in my heart. My adrenaline kicked in and I swear I could have lifted a baby whale at that moment (just a baby...nothing bigger...) the doctor and intern that helped her brought Jack out to me....he was a livid shade of red and had tears in his eyes (for those of you that don't know, newborns don't cry tears...) and I got him calmed down just in time for his vaccinations, 3 shots in the leg. Once again the wailing commenced.
Jack and I both needed a shot of vodka that day.
But we survived.
Jack's blood pressure is great, his lungs have healed, it's amazing to think of how quickly his little body has recovered. Now he's an eating/pooping machine that occasionally gives us a gummy grin and sleeps a lot. He's been a really good baby compared to Morgan (who cried nonstop, hated everybody and everything, and threw up at least one feeding per day as if to say 'haha! take that! I wasted your money!')
Morgan still adores Jack. I'm amazed at how mothering she is. His carrier is in the middle of the backseat right next to her car seat and she will tell us 'he's spitting, I need a burpy cloth!' and she will clean him up! Whaaaa?? Is this the same kid that claims "I'm too tired, my legs are too tiny..." when asked to clean up the mound of Little People mess that I trip over while carrying a loaded laundry basket? I have been putting both kids in the bath together to save time (it takes 2 hours for bath and bedtime routine!) and the other evening Morgan was playing with something and not even looking at Jack...and he started peeing on her...a constant stream hitting her in side....so as any mother would do, I started laughing so hard I couldn't breathe....so Morgan asked 'what's so funny mommy?' and then looked down and saw that she was getting peed on and said 'OHHH JACK!!' but didn't flip out! I don't think I could have handled getting peed on as calmly as that. This morning she wanted to hold him, and as I was putting him on her lap, fat boy lost some of his breakfast on her legs and she didn't even squirm! She just calmly sat there while I cleaned her up, and then she still wanted to hold him! This is the same kid that flips out if she gets WATER on her! If her clothes she wet she ends up nakey. She's an amazingly weird kid.
Every night after both kids are bathed, in their pajamas, Morgan's teeth are brushed, I get my shower (which is tricky when Michael is working nights...I have to put Jack in his bouncer seat in the bathroom and pray that I can at least wash the shampoo out of my hair before he starts to cry), I get both kids to sleep, I pump one last time, and then I dump both kids in their beds (they usually fall asleep on the couch)....as I collapse in bed for a little reading (I'm currently reading the sequel to Pillars of the Earth...you know, Medieval England...historical fiction...it's what every cool person reads, right?) I realize that the sense of accomplishment I feel for surviving one more day in mommyland...feeding and watering the kids, keeping them entertained (and more importantly...alive), doing loads of laundry (it's amazing how much more laundry I have now with a 24 inch human in the house), keeping my house clean, working on my crochet orders, washing dishes (I don't have a dishwasher), trying to 'workout' (which for now is either a walk around the neighborhood pushing 54 pounds worth of kids in a double stroller until one of them starts to cry, or having a dance party in the living room until Jack covered my shirt in regurgitated breast milk from too much jiggling or Morgan runs head first into the coffee table)...the sense of accomplishment I feel for balancing all of that is more than I ever felt for any college degree...
and now Morgan is rolling in the floor claiming she needs to go to the teeth doctor...time to jump back into mommy duties.
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