There was a little fairy... She was quite the helpful little bugga. She would come around and load and unload the dishwasher, clear the island of its debris, fill up all the soap dispensers and clean the fridge every week before finding time to go grocery shopping. This fairy also bleached down the bathroom scrubbing the toilet and tub and even cleaned out the toothbrush holder every week so gross sludge wouldn't build up. Somehow the fairy always knew when we needed to get more toilet paper, soap and toothpaste.
In addition to cleaning, this amazing little creature would sort through the girls clothes, get backpacks and snacks ready for school and have all the clothes laid out at night. She would arrange play-dates, read stories and play Barbies no matter how tired she was. The fairy also took one of the children to her dance class every week, hung the coats up, made all the dentist and doctor appointments and knew every last cell on the children's bodies inside and out.
If something were missing the fairy could tell you exactly where it was in about 2 seconds flat, if a game piece were missing the fairy could immediately come up with a replacement.
What is more amazing is the fairy comes around EVERY day!!! No matter the weather, no matter if she is sick or even if it is a holiday she comes and gets it all done. This fairy is more reliable than the postal service. 365 days a year!!!!
Now, I have never seen this fairy that comes to our house but I am pretty sure that Sara, Anna and Chuck have. They are pretty pleased with her job performance. They like the way she takes care of everything so much they occasionally leave extra jobs for her to do....like leave an Italian ice cup upside down on the sofa on a 90 degree day, empty out the closet onto the floor looking for shorts, leave poopy undies on the bathroom floor...fun stuff like that. The fairy LOVES finding these little extra projects...it gives her such great job satisfaction knowing the family she is assigned to her have such confidence in her fairy magic.
I bet she comes when I am at work. Maybe that is why I have never seen her...
Monday, April 16, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Laissez faire..or is it a lazy fair?
Honestly, I can't tell. I am still on the fence trying to decide if my children are extremely lazy or have brilliant problem solving skills. I will present the evidence and you can decide.
Recently Sara was not allowed to go outside until she cleaned up her toys. She wouldn't budge. She REALLY wanted to go outside because the night before she set up a science experiment on the hill in the backyard and wanted to see what happened to it. I was sticking to my guns...no going out until the toys were put away. She would look out the window and stand on her tippy toes to try to see the top of the hill. She would ask me what I thought. Nothing. The toys were still out. It seriously would have taken her all of 2 minutes to clean them up. Nope!! Chuck comes home and she is laying around and asks him to go and check the hill, he does, comes back and reports what he sees. Sara gets the one thing she wants AND didn't have to clean up. Lazy or creative problem solving?...
Again with the toys. Neither of them wanted to clean them up. I told them they had to before we could go for a walk. I leave the room and come right back and the toys are miraculously all cleaned up. I knew better..they shoved them all under the trampoline. Yes, I know, if you have been following my blog you know that the trampoline is STILL in the living room due to my husband and I being too lazy to take it down...remember? we were so excited to give it to her we put it together in the living room not realizing that once assembled it does not fit through the doorway. So in my kids defense I guess the apple does not fall too far from the tree. Not in their defense now...our house is pretty small, it is a very short walk to put the toys in their room. Pure laziness or a good understanding of spatial relations?...
Sara is famous for calling out for you to come because she "needs you". She always makes it seem like there is some dire emergency on the horizon. Usually she just wants you to throw her trash away or get her something. Drives me nuts but one of her other parents (who will remain nameless) usually caters to her whim. Again I ask...lazy or a master at the art of delegating?...
My last piece of evidence to present and to my Facebook friends you may have heard about this last incident a few days ago...but it is my strongest argument yet. Anna and I were snuggling and reading on the couch. She says, "here mom" as she dangles a huge booger on her finger. I tell her that is gross to go get a tissue and she says to me, "I am too lazy...I will put it back". She puts it back in her nose, looks at her now "clean" finger and goes on with her life. I was disgusted and stunned all at the same time. Mostly disgusted though. Was this another argument for laziness or ingenious time management?
I have been thinking about that last scenario for a few days now and I am not sure if I should be totally frustrated with my children over their laissez faire attitude towards life or should I be bursting with pride over their amazing ability to take the path of least resistance and always come out on top? The jury is still out, but one thing is certain...I have been diligent with Anna making sure she is using her hand sanitizer...
Recently Sara was not allowed to go outside until she cleaned up her toys. She wouldn't budge. She REALLY wanted to go outside because the night before she set up a science experiment on the hill in the backyard and wanted to see what happened to it. I was sticking to my guns...no going out until the toys were put away. She would look out the window and stand on her tippy toes to try to see the top of the hill. She would ask me what I thought. Nothing. The toys were still out. It seriously would have taken her all of 2 minutes to clean them up. Nope!! Chuck comes home and she is laying around and asks him to go and check the hill, he does, comes back and reports what he sees. Sara gets the one thing she wants AND didn't have to clean up. Lazy or creative problem solving?...
Again with the toys. Neither of them wanted to clean them up. I told them they had to before we could go for a walk. I leave the room and come right back and the toys are miraculously all cleaned up. I knew better..they shoved them all under the trampoline. Yes, I know, if you have been following my blog you know that the trampoline is STILL in the living room due to my husband and I being too lazy to take it down...remember? we were so excited to give it to her we put it together in the living room not realizing that once assembled it does not fit through the doorway. So in my kids defense I guess the apple does not fall too far from the tree. Not in their defense now...our house is pretty small, it is a very short walk to put the toys in their room. Pure laziness or a good understanding of spatial relations?...
Sara is famous for calling out for you to come because she "needs you". She always makes it seem like there is some dire emergency on the horizon. Usually she just wants you to throw her trash away or get her something. Drives me nuts but one of her other parents (who will remain nameless) usually caters to her whim. Again I ask...lazy or a master at the art of delegating?...
My last piece of evidence to present and to my Facebook friends you may have heard about this last incident a few days ago...but it is my strongest argument yet. Anna and I were snuggling and reading on the couch. She says, "here mom" as she dangles a huge booger on her finger. I tell her that is gross to go get a tissue and she says to me, "I am too lazy...I will put it back". She puts it back in her nose, looks at her now "clean" finger and goes on with her life. I was disgusted and stunned all at the same time. Mostly disgusted though. Was this another argument for laziness or ingenious time management?
I have been thinking about that last scenario for a few days now and I am not sure if I should be totally frustrated with my children over their laissez faire attitude towards life or should I be bursting with pride over their amazing ability to take the path of least resistance and always come out on top? The jury is still out, but one thing is certain...I have been diligent with Anna making sure she is using her hand sanitizer...
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Move over Larry Flynt...
Anna is the new purveyor of smut. So this morning I broke my rule of taking children to Market Basket. Thursday evening is usually my thrilling night out at the grocery store. It was going to rain and I was really tired I just wanted to get it over with. I decided to go with Anna while Sara was at preschool. You know if I bring a kid with me it will always end in a good story. Today was no exception.
A while back Anna was not talking so we enrolled her in Early Intervention to give her a boost. I am constantly asking myself why was it again we thought it was important to teach her to talk? Anyway she has this curious little accent...kind of a cross between British (she calls her self Ah-Nah) and New York (she pronounces back bay-yak) with some other weird, hard to place phonetics. Add to that her articulation problem and it is always an adventure listening to her....
We were in the chip aisle and she wanted some "Pi-Pi Boobies". Any guesses? That would be Pirate's Booty my friends. She was so mad that I wouldn't get it for her and she kept nagging me to get her Pi-Pi Boobies. The little old man looking at the mixed nuts really got a kick out of that one.
A little further down the aisle she saw the fruit nacks (that is fruit snacks to you and I). She really wanted Hello Tittie ones. She kept asking where the Hello Tittie fruit nacks where. I have never seen them and I am not sure they even exist but I couldn't resist I kept asking her what kind she wanted. It never gets old.
Even though Anna was feeling under the weather today she was really happy and singing Ring Around the Rosie throughout the whole shopping trip. However, due the her odd speech pattern she sings it "asses, asses we all fall down". She was singing it so loud and with such passion I just let her keep going.
She may just take over for Larry Flynt when he retires. She already spends most of her time talking about Tits and Asses. Yup, my sweet little girl...asses, asses we all fall down!!!
A while back Anna was not talking so we enrolled her in Early Intervention to give her a boost. I am constantly asking myself why was it again we thought it was important to teach her to talk? Anyway she has this curious little accent...kind of a cross between British (she calls her self Ah-Nah) and New York (she pronounces back bay-yak) with some other weird, hard to place phonetics. Add to that her articulation problem and it is always an adventure listening to her....
We were in the chip aisle and she wanted some "Pi-Pi Boobies". Any guesses? That would be Pirate's Booty my friends. She was so mad that I wouldn't get it for her and she kept nagging me to get her Pi-Pi Boobies. The little old man looking at the mixed nuts really got a kick out of that one.
A little further down the aisle she saw the fruit nacks (that is fruit snacks to you and I). She really wanted Hello Tittie ones. She kept asking where the Hello Tittie fruit nacks where. I have never seen them and I am not sure they even exist but I couldn't resist I kept asking her what kind she wanted. It never gets old.
Even though Anna was feeling under the weather today she was really happy and singing Ring Around the Rosie throughout the whole shopping trip. However, due the her odd speech pattern she sings it "asses, asses we all fall down". She was singing it so loud and with such passion I just let her keep going.
She may just take over for Larry Flynt when he retires. She already spends most of her time talking about Tits and Asses. Yup, my sweet little girl...asses, asses we all fall down!!!
Monday, April 9, 2012
It's a Jungle in Here
So in addition to my two little girls we have a couple of pets...2 cats, a guinea pig and 3 fish tanks to be exact. Lately the pets have been causing me more grief than the kids. It came to a head the other day when I found myself walking into work in a most unattractive outfit. It was blue pants, a blue tank top and a blue sweater. None of it matched. Needless to say it was not my first choice of attire for the day. I had something a bit more coordinated but at the last minute, which is usually reserved for changing one of Anna's crappy diapers, Lucy tried climbing up me and in the process ripped my original shirt. It wasn't a huge hole but it was right in the middle of my belly and not sure if many of you know this...I am really, really white and my belly is a bit on the softer side these days so that shirt was out. Hence the ensemble that encompassed every blue hue under the sun. For those that may have had the pleasure of seeing me that day, yes, I am well aware that my outfit didn't match and I am sorry.
So let me introduce you to my pets so you can get a fuller appreciation of my day to day life. First up;
GRACIE: She is my 10 year old cat. I got her when I was living in Providence. She really loves me. REALLY loves me. Gracie is always all over me, rubbing up against my leg, cuddling with me on the couch, comes up and purrs in my ear and tries to lick my ear. She kind of has a creepy smile on her face when she is doing this. When she does it I always get this image of the lights dimming, a disco ball coming down and Marvin Gaye's Let's Get it on starts to play...I am sure somewhere on the internet I can find a subset of society that may be turned on by this....but it is driving me nuts!!! She had a partner in crime for her entire life who died last summer (a quick side story....Sara is a very cerebral child and really needs and wants a lot of information. We knew Maddie was going to die and we had prepared Sara for it. She wanted to give her last pats and she picked out a box and blanket to bury her in. We were coming home from the vet after it happened and it was pretty quiet in the car. Sara very sweetly asks Anna if she wants to play with Maddie. Anna who really doesn't understand what just happened says yeah. Sara yells at her " Well, you can't she is DEAD!" nice gentle introduction to death for Anna). So Gracie hasn't been the same since the other cat died.. She seemed depressed and lonely. After about 6 months I had the bright idea of getting her a new cat friend....
LUCY: Lucy is a 5 year old black cat....who thinks she is a panther. She HATES me. She stares at me and licks her lips...just like the panther in the Geico ad. She glares at me when I come into the room. I am slightly afraid of her. She is creepy...you turn around and she is there staring. I have opened the cereal cabinet a few times and she is in there waiting to scare the sh*t out of me...and she does. She is all black except for a few white furs on her chest. Oh and her butt hole is white. So on the rare occasion she does come around me it is usually to put her ass in front of my face so I get up close and personal with her white balloon knot. GROSS!! She does however, LOVE Sara. She literally climbs up in her arms to be carried around. She sleeps with her every night and Sara can do anything to this cat, put necklaces on her, ride her around in the wagon, get her to eat right from her hand, you name it this cat is game. Oh and since we got her in January I have only been able to clip 4 of her nails. Chuck has to wrap her in a towel and practically choke her to get it done...and still only 4 nails have been done. She goes nuts and I fear I will turn out like Siegfried, or is it Roy? This cat is out to get me. No wonder her nails ripped my shirt...
The two cats do not get along. It has been 3 months now and Lucy is still out to kill Gracie. Gracie is in fear for her life and sleeps on my head at night so as to not be murdered in her sleep. Does not help with all the other sleep disturbances I have going on. But I feel a sense of obligation to keep her alive for another day since I brought this murderous cat into her life. I have a spray bottle hanging on my headboard for the inevitable middle of the night cat fight...it is to the point that my 2 year old shouts out, Mom the cats are looking at each other....that means I have about 3.2 seconds to get my ass in there to referee. Sara and Anna try to smooth things over by saying "good girls" when the 2 cats are in close proximity.
We have set up 3 cat litter boxes for them. They have this stupid game they play. One will take a crap and the other will come along about 2 minutes later and show them up. It is literally like they are trying to out crap each other. It is awesome for me. Why, you ask? Oh, because the only litter box they find acceptable is one in the kitchen. Just to mess with me even more is the fact that they play this game just as I sit down to eat. We tried to move it out of the kitchen but that was not to their liking. One day I walked into my room and it smelled like poop. Anna and Chuck had both just been in there so I couldn't rule any reasonable source out. They both denied it. The smell was lingering. Turns out one of the cats took a dump on the clean laundry. Now, shame on me for leaving the clean laundry in a pile on my bedroom floor. I knew it might be compromised by one of the kids, perhaps leaving a toy in the mix. I never imagined that a cat would crap on it. Had to rewash everything. This time I was smart and put the clean laundry on my bed before I put it away. Well, fool me once shame on you...fool me twice...Yup! This time the cat not only crapped on my clean close but decided to pee on it too. So we put the litter box back in the kitchen and haven't had that problem since. I am sure you are all thinking to yourself why don't you just put your laundry away in a timely fashion....to that I have no good response. We did move the litter box to the top of the basement stairs to see if that helps. Oh, and the 2 boxes down in the basement are not up to their standards however, the hole surrounding the sump pump is. That is there new craptastic idea. Sh*tting in the hole. That sucker is being cemented up this weekend. Take that cats!! I am sure they will find another way to get back at us.
MS. AMERIGOLD LEMON LAVALLEE: is "Sara's" guinea pig. I put it in quotes because it is only Sara's when it suits her. Like when Anna pays attention to it...then Sara claims her. Other than that they only play with her when I suggest it. Sara had some issues about a year ago that we were working on. She would get a small reward when she earned it and was to work toward a larger goal. In a fit of desperation I said to her, "Sara if you do ___________ then you can get anything you want"...just as the words left my mouth I wanted a do-over. I have degrees in child development, I have worked with children my entire adult life and when working with kids I know you can't write a check you aren't willing to cash...I was going to have to follow through with whatever she came up with. Without missing a beat she yells out Guinea Pig!! I have never had a guinea pig, we don't know anyone that has one...I had no idea they were even on her radar. So I drove her right to the pet store, I had them take out the cutest one and let her hold it...I dangled that damn guinea pig like a carrot in front of her face. She could have one, but, she needed to earn it. She failed the first day. I told Chuck, no worries, she can't do this....we won't have to get a guinea pig. Wouldn't you know the next day she did great and for the next 30 days held up her end of the bargain and earned it. In the meantime I did some research. Did you know those little suckers could live for 8 years? I trolled on Craigslist and found one. This is going to sound awful but I knew the novelty would wear off and I would end up taking care of it...I wanted one with a few years under its belt. Found one, cage and all for $40. We went to get it. I read the ad wrong. It was 4 months...not 4 years. I am in it for the long haul, oh and yeah, the cage was all rusty I needed to buy a new one. I guess you can't trust Craigslist....She is very cute and she squeals with delight every time I walk by her. She is great for my self esteem...if the kids are bringing me down I just walk by her cage and get a little pick me up.
The fish are Chuck's I don't have much to say about them...they are now in the basement. That makes me happy.
If you ever hear me say that getting a dog would be a good idea STOP ME!!!!
So let me introduce you to my pets so you can get a fuller appreciation of my day to day life. First up;
GRACIE: She is my 10 year old cat. I got her when I was living in Providence. She really loves me. REALLY loves me. Gracie is always all over me, rubbing up against my leg, cuddling with me on the couch, comes up and purrs in my ear and tries to lick my ear. She kind of has a creepy smile on her face when she is doing this. When she does it I always get this image of the lights dimming, a disco ball coming down and Marvin Gaye's Let's Get it on starts to play...I am sure somewhere on the internet I can find a subset of society that may be turned on by this....but it is driving me nuts!!! She had a partner in crime for her entire life who died last summer (a quick side story....Sara is a very cerebral child and really needs and wants a lot of information. We knew Maddie was going to die and we had prepared Sara for it. She wanted to give her last pats and she picked out a box and blanket to bury her in. We were coming home from the vet after it happened and it was pretty quiet in the car. Sara very sweetly asks Anna if she wants to play with Maddie. Anna who really doesn't understand what just happened says yeah. Sara yells at her " Well, you can't she is DEAD!" nice gentle introduction to death for Anna). So Gracie hasn't been the same since the other cat died.. She seemed depressed and lonely. After about 6 months I had the bright idea of getting her a new cat friend....
LUCY: Lucy is a 5 year old black cat....who thinks she is a panther. She HATES me. She stares at me and licks her lips...just like the panther in the Geico ad. She glares at me when I come into the room. I am slightly afraid of her. She is creepy...you turn around and she is there staring. I have opened the cereal cabinet a few times and she is in there waiting to scare the sh*t out of me...and she does. She is all black except for a few white furs on her chest. Oh and her butt hole is white. So on the rare occasion she does come around me it is usually to put her ass in front of my face so I get up close and personal with her white balloon knot. GROSS!! She does however, LOVE Sara. She literally climbs up in her arms to be carried around. She sleeps with her every night and Sara can do anything to this cat, put necklaces on her, ride her around in the wagon, get her to eat right from her hand, you name it this cat is game. Oh and since we got her in January I have only been able to clip 4 of her nails. Chuck has to wrap her in a towel and practically choke her to get it done...and still only 4 nails have been done. She goes nuts and I fear I will turn out like Siegfried, or is it Roy? This cat is out to get me. No wonder her nails ripped my shirt...
The two cats do not get along. It has been 3 months now and Lucy is still out to kill Gracie. Gracie is in fear for her life and sleeps on my head at night so as to not be murdered in her sleep. Does not help with all the other sleep disturbances I have going on. But I feel a sense of obligation to keep her alive for another day since I brought this murderous cat into her life. I have a spray bottle hanging on my headboard for the inevitable middle of the night cat fight...it is to the point that my 2 year old shouts out, Mom the cats are looking at each other....that means I have about 3.2 seconds to get my ass in there to referee. Sara and Anna try to smooth things over by saying "good girls" when the 2 cats are in close proximity.
We have set up 3 cat litter boxes for them. They have this stupid game they play. One will take a crap and the other will come along about 2 minutes later and show them up. It is literally like they are trying to out crap each other. It is awesome for me. Why, you ask? Oh, because the only litter box they find acceptable is one in the kitchen. Just to mess with me even more is the fact that they play this game just as I sit down to eat. We tried to move it out of the kitchen but that was not to their liking. One day I walked into my room and it smelled like poop. Anna and Chuck had both just been in there so I couldn't rule any reasonable source out. They both denied it. The smell was lingering. Turns out one of the cats took a dump on the clean laundry. Now, shame on me for leaving the clean laundry in a pile on my bedroom floor. I knew it might be compromised by one of the kids, perhaps leaving a toy in the mix. I never imagined that a cat would crap on it. Had to rewash everything. This time I was smart and put the clean laundry on my bed before I put it away. Well, fool me once shame on you...fool me twice...Yup! This time the cat not only crapped on my clean close but decided to pee on it too. So we put the litter box back in the kitchen and haven't had that problem since. I am sure you are all thinking to yourself why don't you just put your laundry away in a timely fashion....to that I have no good response. We did move the litter box to the top of the basement stairs to see if that helps. Oh, and the 2 boxes down in the basement are not up to their standards however, the hole surrounding the sump pump is. That is there new craptastic idea. Sh*tting in the hole. That sucker is being cemented up this weekend. Take that cats!! I am sure they will find another way to get back at us.
MS. AMERIGOLD LEMON LAVALLEE: is "Sara's" guinea pig. I put it in quotes because it is only Sara's when it suits her. Like when Anna pays attention to it...then Sara claims her. Other than that they only play with her when I suggest it. Sara had some issues about a year ago that we were working on. She would get a small reward when she earned it and was to work toward a larger goal. In a fit of desperation I said to her, "Sara if you do ___________ then you can get anything you want"...just as the words left my mouth I wanted a do-over. I have degrees in child development, I have worked with children my entire adult life and when working with kids I know you can't write a check you aren't willing to cash...I was going to have to follow through with whatever she came up with. Without missing a beat she yells out Guinea Pig!! I have never had a guinea pig, we don't know anyone that has one...I had no idea they were even on her radar. So I drove her right to the pet store, I had them take out the cutest one and let her hold it...I dangled that damn guinea pig like a carrot in front of her face. She could have one, but, she needed to earn it. She failed the first day. I told Chuck, no worries, she can't do this....we won't have to get a guinea pig. Wouldn't you know the next day she did great and for the next 30 days held up her end of the bargain and earned it. In the meantime I did some research. Did you know those little suckers could live for 8 years? I trolled on Craigslist and found one. This is going to sound awful but I knew the novelty would wear off and I would end up taking care of it...I wanted one with a few years under its belt. Found one, cage and all for $40. We went to get it. I read the ad wrong. It was 4 months...not 4 years. I am in it for the long haul, oh and yeah, the cage was all rusty I needed to buy a new one. I guess you can't trust Craigslist....She is very cute and she squeals with delight every time I walk by her. She is great for my self esteem...if the kids are bringing me down I just walk by her cage and get a little pick me up.
The fish are Chuck's I don't have much to say about them...they are now in the basement. That makes me happy.
If you ever hear me say that getting a dog would be a good idea STOP ME!!!!
Thursday, April 5, 2012
And so it Begins...
Anna has decided she wants to wear underwear. Actually, it was "suggested" to her by her Auntie Jen. Auntie promised her a new Dora doll if she peed on the potty. She also promised Sara a new doll if she would teach Anna how to use the potty. Anna could not have cared less but Sara is all about prizes...if there is one to be had she will find a way to get it. I hang up the phone with Auntie Jen and I walk by the bathroom and they are already in there. Sara marched Anna right in as soon as she heard there was a princess doll involved. Princess paraphernalia is a pretty strong currency around here.
Anna is only 2 years and 4 months old. Way too early for her to potty train. Some kids are ready that young and some are not. Sara was trained at 20 months....she was ready. Anna is not. Case in point; the other day I had to quickly move Anna out of the tub and ditch her on the couch since her sister gave birth to a turd in the tub. I was in the kitchen spraying the tub toys down with bleach when Anna comes into the kitchen naked, with huge smile on her face. She joyfully announces that she just peed. Yay! I say to her and head into the bathroom to clean out the potty. She says "mom it's not in the potty...I peed on the couch"...she was so proud of herself I couldn't get too upset. Plus, as you all know by now we have nothing nice anymore anyway so a pee soaked couch fits in quite nicely with the decor. So she is starting to get that she shouldn't pee in her diaper, but she doesn't quite get that we, as the human race are slightly more civilized than our animal counterparts and we really can't just pop a squat where ever and whenever the urge strikes.
So now for a couple of hours during the day she wants to wear her undies. I indulge her. She wants Dora ones. Well, my little lovebug skipped right past the 2T/3T size right into size 4. So she complains every time she has to put on a Minnie Mouse pair. Really? Does it matter? They are going to be soaked in pee in about 15 minutes anyway....
Anna spends A LOT of time sitting on the toilet. She tries and tries so hard to get a few dribbles out. With all of that straining something is bound to come out. Usually it is just gas. If you kept up with my Facebook entries then you might remember a few months back the 2:30 a.m. "Fart-Gate"...remember when Anna farted and she was so upset that she could not see her fart in the toilet? yeah, well, it happens several times a day now. She get so frustrated because with all that hard work she expects to see "results"...unfortunately farts are invisible. After telling someone at work about Fart Gate 2010 she gave me some talking points about farts so now I have a better response to Anna when she is upset about not seeing her farts instead of just laughing at her. Now when she is mad that the potty is empty I tell her that "yes Ann, your fart was real, even though we can't see it, we heard it and we can smell it...so we know that it really came out of your bum." I have to dig down deep to say that with a straight face, but it works she doesn't throw a tantrum over the phantom farts anymore.
What she DOES do now though it just as curious...she "needs pwibacy"...translation: needs privacy. Miraculously about 30 seconds after I walk out and close the door she announces she peed. Not sure if she is telling the truth or not...she tends to flat out lie to your face. But I go along with her and praise her for a job well done. I would later find out that she is up to no good when she is alone in the bathroom. She confessed to Chuck that she put a booger on Memere's (her grandmother's) towel. Chuck did call his mom and tell her. I can only imagine what she has been up to in my bathroom. I have been extra vigilant in there lately.
I will all keep you updated with her progress...I am sure it will be an adventure.
On a somewhat related note...Anna had school today. It really isn't school it is a little preschool playgroup that we go to for 2 hours a week. Anyway, she is very shy there. In the car ride there we practiced some polite phrases she can use when she wants to ask for a snack or a hand stamp. Didn't work...she was super shy the whole time...UNTIL she lets out a sonic boom and announces at the top of her voice "I farted...excuse me"....
Anna is only 2 years and 4 months old. Way too early for her to potty train. Some kids are ready that young and some are not. Sara was trained at 20 months....she was ready. Anna is not. Case in point; the other day I had to quickly move Anna out of the tub and ditch her on the couch since her sister gave birth to a turd in the tub. I was in the kitchen spraying the tub toys down with bleach when Anna comes into the kitchen naked, with huge smile on her face. She joyfully announces that she just peed. Yay! I say to her and head into the bathroom to clean out the potty. She says "mom it's not in the potty...I peed on the couch"...she was so proud of herself I couldn't get too upset. Plus, as you all know by now we have nothing nice anymore anyway so a pee soaked couch fits in quite nicely with the decor. So she is starting to get that she shouldn't pee in her diaper, but she doesn't quite get that we, as the human race are slightly more civilized than our animal counterparts and we really can't just pop a squat where ever and whenever the urge strikes.
So now for a couple of hours during the day she wants to wear her undies. I indulge her. She wants Dora ones. Well, my little lovebug skipped right past the 2T/3T size right into size 4. So she complains every time she has to put on a Minnie Mouse pair. Really? Does it matter? They are going to be soaked in pee in about 15 minutes anyway....
Anna spends A LOT of time sitting on the toilet. She tries and tries so hard to get a few dribbles out. With all of that straining something is bound to come out. Usually it is just gas. If you kept up with my Facebook entries then you might remember a few months back the 2:30 a.m. "Fart-Gate"...remember when Anna farted and she was so upset that she could not see her fart in the toilet? yeah, well, it happens several times a day now. She get so frustrated because with all that hard work she expects to see "results"...unfortunately farts are invisible. After telling someone at work about Fart Gate 2010 she gave me some talking points about farts so now I have a better response to Anna when she is upset about not seeing her farts instead of just laughing at her. Now when she is mad that the potty is empty I tell her that "yes Ann, your fart was real, even though we can't see it, we heard it and we can smell it...so we know that it really came out of your bum." I have to dig down deep to say that with a straight face, but it works she doesn't throw a tantrum over the phantom farts anymore.
What she DOES do now though it just as curious...she "needs pwibacy"...translation: needs privacy. Miraculously about 30 seconds after I walk out and close the door she announces she peed. Not sure if she is telling the truth or not...she tends to flat out lie to your face. But I go along with her and praise her for a job well done. I would later find out that she is up to no good when she is alone in the bathroom. She confessed to Chuck that she put a booger on Memere's (her grandmother's) towel. Chuck did call his mom and tell her. I can only imagine what she has been up to in my bathroom. I have been extra vigilant in there lately.
I will all keep you updated with her progress...I am sure it will be an adventure.
On a somewhat related note...Anna had school today. It really isn't school it is a little preschool playgroup that we go to for 2 hours a week. Anyway, she is very shy there. In the car ride there we practiced some polite phrases she can use when she wants to ask for a snack or a hand stamp. Didn't work...she was super shy the whole time...UNTIL she lets out a sonic boom and announces at the top of her voice "I farted...excuse me"....
Monday, April 2, 2012
Forget Waterboarding....
Contact the CIA!! They no longer need to water board the inmates at Guantanamo...I have a new form of torture that would get even the most hardened terrorist to crack. Force them to wear the outfit, shoes included, that I wore last night.
Let me start by saying the wedding was wonderful...we had a really good time and it was glorious to see the girls drive away with my parents for the night. HOWEVER....I have never been more physically uncomfortable in ALL OF MY LIFE!!! I do not make this statement lightly, I was in labor for 36 hours with Sara...and this 8 hour span of time trumps that hands down.
Let's start at the beginning...getting dressed. It was even more of an ordeal than I had imagined. I got the first "undergarment" on. The first shaper. It had this rubbery seam around the openings for the legs and around the waist, which is not really a waist at all since it comes up to your armpits. It was a struggle getting it up but I did it without sweating too much. Then came the Spanx nylons. Holy God...these things were a disaster right from the get go. I swear they were defective. The first leg went on fine, relatively speaking...as fine as stuffing a watermelon into a grape. I could not get the second leg on to save my life. Literally if there were a man standing next to me with a gun ordering me to put it on properly I would have been shot dead. I tried and tried... this thing was not going on. It was so tight it wouldn't budge. I took it off and started over 3 times. I swear to God the second leg was two sizes smaller than the first. I tried everything!! I was contorted into all kinds of positions trying to pull this up past my knee. Chuck was offering to help but I refused...that is all I needed after all the running around the day before ending up with ripped nylons would be the icing on the cake. After a good 10 minutes of getting into every yoga position imaginable I managed to get it up, kind of. I say kind of because I could get it up enough to cover my leg but there was this super tight ringed up bunch of nylon just above my knee. Since we were running late I had to go with it. Chuck offered a helpful tip, "if you don't throw a clot by the end of the night you will be fine." In an effort to not ruin his night I made sure to periodically move my foot to keep the blood flowing. I think the alcohol during cocktail hour sufficiently thinned my blood as well...
So I re-dry my hair...which was soaking from sweat after my nylon workout...Now on to the shoes...I guess buying them at 7 p.m. after running around all day was not the best idea. When I went to put them on for the wedding they were HUGE!! So big in fact that I was walking out of them with each step I took. There was no way I was going to make it. I ended up stuffing paper towels into the toes and off we went. It was a bit of a drive up to New Hampshire so my mind was wandering a bit on the car ride. No word of a lie, this is what I REALLY thought about...1) if we were in accident and needed medical attention are there trauma shears strong enough to cut through two layers of Spanx and 2) would the trauma team be able to apply for workers comp for their injuries they would undoubtedly sustain from the muffin top that would be unleashed when said Spanx were cut? It would be similar to the dough that pops out of the Pillsbury can when you peel it back...only on a much grander scale.
We get to the country club and head in. Turns out I can't walk like a normal person. I am all pigeon toed and look as if I have a stick up my ass as I try to walk and keep my shoes on. I head into the bathroom and try to figure it out. I add some toilet paper to the shoes to try and make them fit. If I can just get to my seat all will be well. I have to walk down stairs. I was terrified but I bit the bullet and did it. I made it safely down but just as I walked into the ceremony room I got this ungodly pain that stopped me dead in my tracks. I could not move, it felt as if there was a giant, hot nail poking straight into my big toe. I had to try and bend down, mind you they are 4.5 inch heels, so I am balancing on one of them and trying to get some of the toilet paper out all while holding my purse and wedding program. Of course now there is a line behind me as I am doing this. Total class act at this point.
Cocktail hour comes and goes...I stand in one spot and ask others to get my drinks for me. Somehow the alcohol is not numbing the pain but it has brought out my biggest fear. The need to pee. I wobble to the bathroom and just as I had envisioned it... A LINE!!! I go in and try to take care of business as quick as possible and head back to my table for dinner. But guess what? Yup!! The seal has been broken and now I have to go about every 20 minutes. It was a nightmare...the painful walk, the pressure of getting the spanx up and down in under 2 minutes and the defeated walk back knowing that in 20 minutes I would have to do it all over again. For the first time in our 7 year relationship I was happy that Chuck is not an extrovert and that I could just sit at the table and not worry about him asking me to dance. I was kind of bummed because they had really fun music and I did want to get up and dance. We did slow dance once...if you call it that. It was more me leaning on him and him holding me up...I am sure everyone there thought I was tanked....little did they know I was just bringing back the lost art of Chinese foot binding. I am sure you are all asking why I just didn't take them off. I would have but they were so swollen I was afraid I would never get them back on.
I have never wished for date night to end so fast. Finally it was time to go. We get in the car and I do take my shoes off. We were a few miles into the drive and I threw caution to the wind and took the nylons and spanx off too. The throbbing in my thigh was just too much to take and I couldn't wait to get rid of them...I could send them to the military...they would make an awesome tourniquet in the trenches. I figured if we were in an accident there was no more embarrassing situation than an other...double spanx or nothing....equally embarrassing.
So there is a wedding coming up in about 14 months. I am already dreading it. I am happy for the couple and wish them well, but I don't want to have to dress up again. How can I get out of it so I don't have to go through this hell again? Could I time it right and have a baby right around the same time? Could I have one of my ER friends put a long leg cast on me so I can't travel? Are there any elective surgeries I could qualify for next spring? I decided that is crazy talk. I am going to bring back the leisure suit a la Carol Brady. I am going to wear a nice pastel blue, elastic waisted pantsuit with wide flat shoes. If I start shopping now I may avoid the day before run around...
So I am going to box it all up and send it to Guantanamo for them...who knows I may just play a pivotal role in preventing the next Al Queda attack.
Let me start by saying the wedding was wonderful...we had a really good time and it was glorious to see the girls drive away with my parents for the night. HOWEVER....I have never been more physically uncomfortable in ALL OF MY LIFE!!! I do not make this statement lightly, I was in labor for 36 hours with Sara...and this 8 hour span of time trumps that hands down.
Let's start at the beginning...getting dressed. It was even more of an ordeal than I had imagined. I got the first "undergarment" on. The first shaper. It had this rubbery seam around the openings for the legs and around the waist, which is not really a waist at all since it comes up to your armpits. It was a struggle getting it up but I did it without sweating too much. Then came the Spanx nylons. Holy God...these things were a disaster right from the get go. I swear they were defective. The first leg went on fine, relatively speaking...as fine as stuffing a watermelon into a grape. I could not get the second leg on to save my life. Literally if there were a man standing next to me with a gun ordering me to put it on properly I would have been shot dead. I tried and tried... this thing was not going on. It was so tight it wouldn't budge. I took it off and started over 3 times. I swear to God the second leg was two sizes smaller than the first. I tried everything!! I was contorted into all kinds of positions trying to pull this up past my knee. Chuck was offering to help but I refused...that is all I needed after all the running around the day before ending up with ripped nylons would be the icing on the cake. After a good 10 minutes of getting into every yoga position imaginable I managed to get it up, kind of. I say kind of because I could get it up enough to cover my leg but there was this super tight ringed up bunch of nylon just above my knee. Since we were running late I had to go with it. Chuck offered a helpful tip, "if you don't throw a clot by the end of the night you will be fine." In an effort to not ruin his night I made sure to periodically move my foot to keep the blood flowing. I think the alcohol during cocktail hour sufficiently thinned my blood as well...
So I re-dry my hair...which was soaking from sweat after my nylon workout...Now on to the shoes...I guess buying them at 7 p.m. after running around all day was not the best idea. When I went to put them on for the wedding they were HUGE!! So big in fact that I was walking out of them with each step I took. There was no way I was going to make it. I ended up stuffing paper towels into the toes and off we went. It was a bit of a drive up to New Hampshire so my mind was wandering a bit on the car ride. No word of a lie, this is what I REALLY thought about...1) if we were in accident and needed medical attention are there trauma shears strong enough to cut through two layers of Spanx and 2) would the trauma team be able to apply for workers comp for their injuries they would undoubtedly sustain from the muffin top that would be unleashed when said Spanx were cut? It would be similar to the dough that pops out of the Pillsbury can when you peel it back...only on a much grander scale.
We get to the country club and head in. Turns out I can't walk like a normal person. I am all pigeon toed and look as if I have a stick up my ass as I try to walk and keep my shoes on. I head into the bathroom and try to figure it out. I add some toilet paper to the shoes to try and make them fit. If I can just get to my seat all will be well. I have to walk down stairs. I was terrified but I bit the bullet and did it. I made it safely down but just as I walked into the ceremony room I got this ungodly pain that stopped me dead in my tracks. I could not move, it felt as if there was a giant, hot nail poking straight into my big toe. I had to try and bend down, mind you they are 4.5 inch heels, so I am balancing on one of them and trying to get some of the toilet paper out all while holding my purse and wedding program. Of course now there is a line behind me as I am doing this. Total class act at this point.
Cocktail hour comes and goes...I stand in one spot and ask others to get my drinks for me. Somehow the alcohol is not numbing the pain but it has brought out my biggest fear. The need to pee. I wobble to the bathroom and just as I had envisioned it... A LINE!!! I go in and try to take care of business as quick as possible and head back to my table for dinner. But guess what? Yup!! The seal has been broken and now I have to go about every 20 minutes. It was a nightmare...the painful walk, the pressure of getting the spanx up and down in under 2 minutes and the defeated walk back knowing that in 20 minutes I would have to do it all over again. For the first time in our 7 year relationship I was happy that Chuck is not an extrovert and that I could just sit at the table and not worry about him asking me to dance. I was kind of bummed because they had really fun music and I did want to get up and dance. We did slow dance once...if you call it that. It was more me leaning on him and him holding me up...I am sure everyone there thought I was tanked....little did they know I was just bringing back the lost art of Chinese foot binding. I am sure you are all asking why I just didn't take them off. I would have but they were so swollen I was afraid I would never get them back on.
I have never wished for date night to end so fast. Finally it was time to go. We get in the car and I do take my shoes off. We were a few miles into the drive and I threw caution to the wind and took the nylons and spanx off too. The throbbing in my thigh was just too much to take and I couldn't wait to get rid of them...I could send them to the military...they would make an awesome tourniquet in the trenches. I figured if we were in an accident there was no more embarrassing situation than an other...double spanx or nothing....equally embarrassing.
So there is a wedding coming up in about 14 months. I am already dreading it. I am happy for the couple and wish them well, but I don't want to have to dress up again. How can I get out of it so I don't have to go through this hell again? Could I time it right and have a baby right around the same time? Could I have one of my ER friends put a long leg cast on me so I can't travel? Are there any elective surgeries I could qualify for next spring? I decided that is crazy talk. I am going to bring back the leisure suit a la Carol Brady. I am going to wear a nice pastel blue, elastic waisted pantsuit with wide flat shoes. If I start shopping now I may avoid the day before run around...
So I am going to box it all up and send it to Guantanamo for them...who knows I may just play a pivotal role in preventing the next Al Queda attack.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Happy Birthday!
Tales of a Mini Van Mom is one month old today! As of 7:50 a.m. there have been 3,462 views on the blog. It has been viewed here in the United States, Spain, Japan, France, Italy, New Zealand, Canada, The United Kingdom, Germany, Ukraine and someone in Russia logs on almost everyday!!! THANK YOU ALL FOR READING IT!!! I am having so much fun with it. It is very cathartic and kind of like a free form of therapy. If you promise to keep reading I will promise to keep writing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)