gifts

so naturally, christmas morning was pretty awesome with two little people. they were pumped beyond belief about what santa brought them...and their excitement was palpable. although, i must say that it was quite painful watching them unwrap...because molasses moves quicker than they did. (slow as syrup.) butch was video taping and i swear we were in slow motion. not to mention that after they opened each gift, they wanted to play with it. therefore, after 2 hours of unwrapping action we were finally done. moreover, my husband did most of his shopping for me on black friday, so every time i opened a gift it was followed by a dissertation of how much he saved and how much the product was going for now. (surprise savings in every box!) it was like christmas with coupon claus. i must say that he did pretty well this year, minus the fact that he got duped into the 'buy one get one half off' offer at victoria's secret. now listen, i love me a good boulder holder...but would i ever (ever) spend SIXTY-TWO dollars on one? (never.) if i am going to spend $62 on a bra, it better be able to do some sort of trick...like do a load of laundry or clean some dishes for me as well. i guarantee some busty broad was leaning over him whispering sweet nothings about the savings he would get by buying two before he made that purchase. (sidebar, he also texted me to ask my size.) so now i have a $62 dollar brassiere in my arsenal. sadly, it doesn't do any tricks.

speaking of silly things, you may have read about the play doh cake making factory that comes with a little surprise inside. ironically, my parents bought the girls this set and when i pulled the "extruder" out of the box, i held it up to my mom and just said, "umm...what?" she started laughing her head off. it also came with "special" doh that you push into this thing and then squirt it out. (yep.) even if you don't have a dirty mind, you can't help but look at this thing and see a penis. moreover, when ella was "icing" her "cake" with it i couldn't help but laughing. i wanna know how this thing got past so many people. like why didn't ONE person that reviewed it say, "oh, yah know what? this thing looks like a penis and kids are going to be icing a play doh cake with it...maybe we should go with a different design?" instead it was delivered to the masses by santa claus and his x-rated reindeer. i mean, sure, the kids aren't going to look at it and see a dick, so it's really not that big of a deal. (people who make it a big deal are stupid.) however, i'm sure the play doh people are going to have pull these things off the shelves and shit. i'm so lucky my parents bought this for my kids, now we have one of our very own! moreover, the makers of this stuff are liars. although it was fun for them, there is no way in hell they could make the cakes that were found in the instructions and on the box. (no way in hell.) actually, i don't think an experienced pastry chef could make the shit they have on the box, even if they knew how to expertly use this "extruder."

the other thing my parents bought for my gals is an easy bake oven. i remember how cool i thought the easy bake oven was back when i was a little girl. now that i am the mom of little girls, they opened it and i was like...this is totally not what i remember. first of all, it's like all souped up now. it looks like some sort of space ship or time machine. i wasn't sure if we were going to bake with it or send carrie to the moon. second of all, it only comes with one powder recipe and then you have to buy all the other ones separately. i got a kick out of reading the brochure because they have these well behaved, perfectly dressed little girls on there "baking" the cookies and stuff...talking about how "easy" it is. my mom helped my (pajama clad) kids dump out the powder and then read the directions out loud that she had to add a teaspoon of water to it. my brother was yelling from the other room, "a teaspoon? a TEASPOON?! i could SPIT a teaspoon in the bowl right now!" (boys.) so she added the water and the kids mixed it up. the directions say to roll it into one big ball and then separate the ball into 12 smaller balls. ella got busy rolling the dough and it was a sticky mess all over her hands. she looked up at me and said, "this is gross." (ha!) then we rolled them into 12 other little balls and they pushed them down on the pan. we waited for the "oven" (ie/ lightbulb) to heat up and put the cookies in. my dad and brothers made a big deal about tasting the cookies when they came out. when i pulled them out of the oven it cracked my shit up. (just look.)

brochure vs. our version

so not only are the play doh people liars, the easy bake oven people are liars as well. don't even get me started on barbie, because although she has always been a skinny, busty blonde (probably like the sales person butch interacted with at victoria's secret)...i don't remember her being a street walker. her shoes alone are something out of a drag queen show and then ella tipped her over and said, "woah! you can see her tushy right under her dress!" i just stared. i am not one of those feminist women who believe that my children are going to have self esteem issues if they play with barbie. however, barbie does need to step out of the stilettos and make sure her dress covers her perfectly formed ass cheeks. seriously, who makes this stuff and thinks it's okay? i know damn well there is a whole TEAM of people who designs and passes this stuff. moreover, my in laws are in from colorado this week and sent every piece of memorabilia from the movie frozen that they could find. anna and elsa have taken over our home. we have frozen puzzles, books, dolls, microphones, games, clothes...insert everything else on the market here. my brothers both went the safe route this year and bought quiet toys. usually they buy them the most obnoxiously loud things that make us really nuts. no worries, though, my brother recently bought a house and i came across the best thing to regift to him. (he got this for ella as a birthday gift a few years ago.) happy housewarming, bro. can't WAIT til you keep my kids overnight.

 

this all being said...i know my children are super lucky to have people in their lives who buy them these gifts. even though i find some fault in them, my kids think they are awesome. this christmas was ruled by play doh dicks, not so easy bake ovens, hooker barbies, and frozen memorabilia out the wahzoo. all i know is that i have two happy little girls who were super excited for santa's offerings. yesterday we went through all the kid's old toys and got rid of lots of things they don't play with anymore or that are no longer age appropriate. i must say it made me a little sad. even though i wanted to burn the house and it's entire contents down after i saw alll of the christmas crap that exploded, going through their old things and getting rid of them was also like getting rid of a memory. (as cheesy as that sounds.) for instance, we found no need in keeping the little toy that helped both of my kids learn how to walk. nor a need to hold onto the jumperoo that hung in the doorway as they bounced as babies. these things, i know, are just things...but they are tied to a memory that slipped by faster than i could have imagined. as i sit back wearing my $62 dollar slingshot and sip my wine, i can't help but wonder where the time has gone. may this next year bring you lots of laughter and the ability to worry less. meanwhile, i'll be busy making play doh cakes (using phallic attachments) and crappy cookies (using spaceship contraptions) with my kids. just another coupla memories to add to the books...making the story so much better.

presence

so this is what was going on at my house this morning. (did you expect anything less?) yesterday i spent the better part of the day running around with these two, trying to get last minute things done before the holiday. here we are now only 2 days from christmas, i was tearing around the house like a mad woman cleaning...and i came around the corner to see moe and curly playing a fierce game of pretend. at one point i overheard them saying they were robots, then later it was pirates. when i walked in i said, "woah! you two look awesome!"...then snapped a picture of course. butch had brought home that bag the night before, filled with treats from his students. after he emptied it, ella had it over her head and asked me to cut eye holes and arm holes. carrie improvised by finding a happy meal container from the day before. (don't judge me, i let the clown cook every once in a while.) then, they found an empty roll of wrapping paper, to which ella asked if i could cut in half and they could decorate. (sure!) it's funny, but this reminder of the sheer magnitude of a child's imagination couldn't have come at a better time of year. here my husband and i were wondering if we "got enough" for our kids for christmas...and they are running around with recycled things that ultimately make the best toys. i mean, last year we went a little overboard and do you know what they thought was the best part? the boxes. (of course.)

this past weekend fen and i took ella to the ballet as a christmas treat. i'm going to throw something out there that may be a bit of a cause for judgement, but here it is: when i had the ultrasound to find out the gender of my first born and they stated, "it's a girl." i was actually disappointed. (hear me out) although i was relieved my baby was healthy, i really wanted a boy! i grew up around brothers, my dad had brothers, my mom had a brother, i was never really around a lot of girls...i always envisioned myself from a young age having boys. therefore, when this little pink princess was in utero, i didn't really know what to expect. yes, i mean, i am a girl...so i knew how her parts would work and stuff, but i knew if she turned out to be a "girly girl" i was going to be in trouble. needless to say, when i first saw her little face...i fell in love. (as we all do with our children.) when my second little gal came into our lives, the same thing happened. so flash forward 4 years and i'm up to my goddamn elbows in princesses and all things pink. i knew when we went to the ballet that she was going to lose her little mind. (she did.) we attended a sugar plum princess party and i allowed her to wear a dress up gown that she normally doesn't wear out of the house. all the other little girls were gaping at her and she felt like the bell of the ball. (just look at her.)

when the actual show started, she just stared at the stage for a good half hour. one of the dancers is fen's roommate. obviously, ella is used to seeing her only out of costume. therefore, when she appeared on stage in a tutu twirling around, ella's mouth dropped open and she looked wide-eyed at fen and i. she said, "WOOOWWW, she's so BEAUTIFUL!" then she started clapping wildly for her and waving at her. (haha!) later when she got antsy, she started spinning around in the tight space between my legs and the seats in front of me...throwing her hands up dramatically, pretending she was on stage. (we were laughing.) the whole experience was pretty awesome, and she loved it. when carrie is a little older (and can skip nap time without incident), i want to take her as well. the truth is i really can't get my kids out of costume when they are at home. they are constantly dressing up in some ridiculous getup. recently, carrie has been wanting to wear these things out of the house and i've just been letting her. (isn't worth the argument.) an older lady came up to her in the store yesterday and said, "well my, my! aren't you so PRETTY! are you a fairy?" (she was wearing wings and tutu.) carrie smiled and shook her head. the lady then smiled at me...she reminded me so much of my grandmother. i said, "i pick my battles these days and this is not one i wanted to fight." she said, "honey, i wish i was wearing wings and tutu right now!..would make all this christmas shopping much more fun!" 

furthermore, you never know what your children are going to throw at you...but you figure things out. you can't choose how your child is going to behave in a crowded store or if they are going to cry over something or not. moreover, you can't choose the gender of your child either. as an old friend of mine stated, "you just have to roll with it." even though my life did not turn out what i expected it to be with boys, and is now filled with ballet, glitter, tutus, sparkles and such...my children also enjoy a paper bag costume and happy meal hats. they aren't always pretending to be princesses, but sometimes robots or pirates. for the most part they were excellent on our shopping adventure, but there were some tears as well. moreover, if you think you haven't gotten your kids "enough" this christmas...do yourself a favor and don't sweat it. even though i needed a reminder of how innocent and awesome kids are this morning, i know in my heart that no matter what they unwrap it will always be enough. as a parent, your mere PRESENCE is enough. although i may complain on the regular about things my children do to mess up my world, i never lose sight of the fact that they are my world. i am fortunate to have happy, healthy children whom i would take a bullet for, but who also make me grateful for their early bedtime. i hope this holiday season your heart is full and you find joy in laughter in the little things. most importantly, at the end of the day, choose to raise your glass...and just roll with it.

ebola

alright, so we need to have a little chat about a topic that came to a head this past week at my house. the topic that must be discussed is...the man cold. urban dictionary defines the phenomenon as the following: "the name 'man cold' disguises the true terrible, debilitating disease that is the man cold. nearly all men will die from man colds unless they are administered immediately with large amounts of mindless tv such as daytime tv, or children's cartoons. it is essential that they not move from bed or a comfy sofa to allow for rehabilitation, and must have tissues and man cold medicine (such as chocolate, biscuits, mcdonalds, or a nice cup of tea) brought to them constantly by a nearby female." pretty sure this sounds about right and i couldn't have written it better myself, except i would add boilo to the list of things that he would like brought to him on the couch. on monday my husband laid the ground work for his man cold by telling me that he had a "tickle in his throat." i know damn well that when he complains about this initial tickle that soon i will be taking care of three toddlers instead of two. (true story.) ergo, we then move onto phase two which happened tuesday...when he said he was, "really run down and couldn't really talk." this is also the phase when he decides to take off of work the next day. (he did.) that night he said he called in a substitute, and i could leave the kids home with him on wednesday because he could "nap when they nap." (sure you can.)

truth be told, he probably told me this to stop a fight before it started. aside from calling him a walking vagina and other degrading names in my mind, i did (in fact) wonder if he would keep the kids home with him on his day off. however, i always let him tell me what he plans to do so that it doesn't seem like i'm forcing him to "watch" them when he is lying on his death bed (using death loosely). so i texted the sitter to let her know she wouldn't be graced by my children's presence on wednesday and also told her that it was because butch would be staying home with a man cold. (i also may have said i thought he was a sissy.) she wrote back and said, "they all are" (meaning men) and went on to say that "women have vaginas and we rule the world." (well said.) i think the thing is that women cannot for the life of them figure out why men act this way when they are sick. i mean, if you have like the bubonic plague or some shit...you get a free pass. however, if you have a goddamn cold you should be able to function in society with the help of tissues and some over-the-counter meds. (right?) wrong. i notice that when my husband is not feeling well he will milk it for all it's worth. he believes in his soul that he is going to meet an untimely death in his sleep and he wants me to believe it too. (i don't.) can you imagine if women acted like this when they were sick or pregnant? the entire world would come undone. seriously, shit would just fall apart at the seams. women suck it the hell up and pull up their big girl britches. i tried to buy my husband big girl boxers at macy's but couldn't find them anywhere.

i will say that this man cold was mild compared to the time when i thought his organs were going to empty out of his mouth and anus. (this happened.) his symptoms and dramatics were so severe during this sickness that i thought i would be a widow at a young age. if you haven't read the post about this it's entitled oscar (it's a doozy.) anyways, when i arrived home on wednesday after work the kids were still in the same outfits (pajamas) as when i left them in the morning. of course almost every single day for work i have to physically wake them up for the sitter, but on the day that butch was staying home (and wanted to sleep in) they woke up way earlier that usual and were having breakfast before the sun even thought about showing it's shiny face. (butch was angry.) so fast forward 10 hours, i walked in the door after a day of kindergarten kids hyped up on christmas crack (the struggle is real) AND after running to macy's for more gifts and there were my kids still in footies. i really don't get wound about this stuff anymore, but i do have a question. say your husband doesn't change them out of pajamas all day and bedtime rolls around again, do you: a. change them out of their pajamas and put them in clean pajamas? b. take them out of the pajamas, bathe them, and put them in clean pajamas? c. leave them in the same pajamas until the next day? i just didn't know what to do here. i ended up giving them a baby wipe bath (just what it sounds like) and putting them in clean pajamas. (i pick my battles.)

so as all this was going on at the beginning of the week, a few of my girlfriends were also having their own little go around with the man cold with the men in their lives. one of these said girlfriends was fen. fen's boyfriend after taking off work one day this week actually texted her and told her he thought he had ebola. (e-f$&king-bola. ebola.) she calmly wrote back, "do you have a fever?" he said, "no." to which she replied, "that's the first symptom. so you don't have it." (well played fen.) she is much more tolerant of the man cold than i am. if butch would've told me he thought he had ebola i would've told him i grew a third breast and was joining the circus as a sideshow. (idiot.) my other girlfriend is recently married and was slapped in the face by the harsh reality of what is the man cold early on in her married relationship. she said that not only had her husband taken off since monday, she had "never heard a human being moan so much and so loud for such a long amount of time in her whole life" (end quote). she also stated that she would need large amounts of alcohol to deal with his nonsense (sounds about right). he didn't say he had ebola, but downplayed it by self diagnosing the "flu"(he's not a doctor). the thing that i could most relate to was that she said she had been dealing with the same damn sickness, but still busting her ass at work. alas just three weeks prior, i came down with something similar over thanksgiving. guess what? i had to MAKE THE WHOLE GODDAMN MEAL (including a 20 pound BIRD) and ENTERTAIN MY WHOLE friggen FAMILY while feeling like shit. (i did it.) i very well could've laid in bed and acted like i had ebola, but no woman has time for that. (ever.)

in the meantime, both of my children must've contracted the same sickness as my husband. (swell.) so instead of celebrating the extra long holiday break that was upon me after work at 4pm yesterday, i had happy hour at the pediatricians office. (holy hell.) both kids are hacking and have enough snot to fill a small pool, but are being rather brave about it. luckily, after a doctorly diagnosis they do not have ebola or the flu, just a cold...so we just need to "let it run it's course" like so many other childhood sicknesses. while it runs it course, i will be running my own course to the local liquor store for more wine. (woah.) sick kids are the worst and you really wish it was you. their pain is your pain and let me tell you when they are sick they bring allllllll the pain they have to offer in this world. i know that being a woman has prepared me for dealing with sick children, but clearly whoever wrote the vows, "in sickness and in health" wasn't planning on marrying my husband. (or any other man for that matter.) i will say that kid's timing is always impeccable and they always end up getting sick either around the holidays or on a vacation. (just to make you hate your life a little more.) hopefully everyone will be on the mend by the time that jolly fat man makes his appearance. sitting in church with three snot factories is almost more than i can muster. i will counteract their whines with wine and hope it passes quickly. in the words of my newly married friend, "it feels like i'm in a nightmare." what i have to say to this (childless) friend is that there are many more bad dreams upon her within her marriage and may she find the strength to deal. i'll always be here with an open ear, a glass of wine, and the gift of laughter. men? if you find yourself suffering from a man cold, get some meds and tissues...and stop whining. i shot two human beings out of my lady parts and didn't moan as much as you. man up!

sugarcoat

i had to attend my husband's work christmas party this past weekend and only met everyone once before, which happened to be last year at the same party. this is also the same party that my husband informed me shortly before arrival that no one (not one soul) that he works with, knew his nickname of "butch." he also let me know he wanted to keep it that way. well i suck at secrets and let it out of the bag after two beers. (sorry, warren.) i find that if you enter into a room full of people you don't know, you can easily find someone to talk to if they are a parent like you. kids give you a lot to talk about...especially when it comes to how much of a pain in the ass they can be. i knew one of his coworkers wives just had a baby, so when he introduced us i asked her how the baby was doing and how everything was going. she immediately said, "it's good! he's really good! everything is good!" (oh shit she is talking in exclamation points.) i smiled and said, "that's good!" then a moment later i said after sipping my wine and raising an eyebrow, "really...how are things going?" she looked at me and said, "seriously?" yes, let's not sugarcoat this, sister. she went on, "wellll i haven't slept in 6 weeks. i feel like hell. i have to go pump my boobs like a farm animal soon and i am currently enjoying the only glass of wine i can have for the night. also, this is only my second time away from him and i'm freaking out. however, i'm not looking forward to going home because it's another night of no sleep. this is totally not what i thought it would be." (yahtzee!) now we're talking turkeys. i smiled and told her she was preaching to the choir. actually, i've been singing the same song since 2010. we started laughing and clanked glasses. (whooohooo! we are not alone.)

shortly after this, another woman sauntered over and joined the conversation. we were laughing our heads off about kids and what a pain in the lady parts they are. i find that what people really want is someone they can relate to. i have found that the crazy things children do go across cultures, races, economic backgrounds...it's all the same bullshit. if your 2 year old is waking you up consistently at 4am for a full week and you want to lose your mind, chances are there is another toddler across the world (or next door) doing the same damn thing. if your 4 year old is gently plucking individual hairs out of your head one at a time until you open your eyes, you are probably not alone. (that happened.) when parents say that their kids are perfect, that's a huge red flag for me. parenting is messy...it is never perfect. it's far from perfect, actually. case in point, i forgot to move that damn elf (yes, it's turned to cursing about him) on the shelf the other night and he happened to be hanging out in ella's room. i snuck into her bedroom before going to bed and found my child splayed across her floor like something out of a crime scene. (seriously, the only thing that was missing was the yellow tape.) i'm telling you, this kid put jonbenet ramsey to shame. (it was scary.) i had just got done watching an episode of dateline, so i did the only rational thing i could think of in that moment. i ran over and checked her breathing. as i stood there with one finger under her nose waiting for air, i thought what the hell am i doing? how did my life come to this?!

i whisper called to butch to come over and get a load of what was going on in her bedroom. he came across the hall and said, "what the hell!?" i gingerly swept her up from the floor and placed her back in bed, hoping to not awake her while doing so. butch then said, "i think i heard a big bang a little while ago, but i thought it was the cat." turns out it was not the cat, but our child falling out of her big girl bed and still not waking up. man, i wish i could sleep that soundly. in fact, the thing i miss the very most about being a parent is (single handedly) the sleep. when people tell you to "sleep as much as you can before the baby comes" that is no bullshit. however, you think they are crackers for saying that so you don't listen. even though (most of time) my children are to the point where they sleep through the night, sleep is and never will be the same. (ever.) your body gets all out of whack and just doesn't function the same way. i mean, i'm pretty sure my husband could sleep with a mac truck driving over the duvet...but not me. i wake up at all hours like a goddamn ninja. every sound is like an alarm inside of my head willing me to wake the hell up. i will say that when my dad was visiting for thanksgiving, i noticed he also has the same (man) mac truck mentality when it comes to sleep. he has a doctorate degree in napping and can do it anywhere. in fact, he has a fine talent of reading his book and falling asleep wherever he is. the funny thing is, after ella witnessed this napping action for several days over the holiday break...i found her napping just like her pappy the sunday afternoon after they left.

pappy nap.

 i know, i know, this is just another post based on the fact that children are awesome...but can be an incredible pain in the ass. i think the thing is that we all need to be more honest with each other about it though. it's easy to sugarcoat parenthood and talk about how splendid it is. truth be told, it is pretty amazing in a million ways. however, there are a lot of sucky things about it as well. (for instance, the lack of sleep.) the positive things about parenthood are enough to make you ride over rainbows on a goddamn unicorn. the negative things make you want to punch yourself in the face with your own fist sometimes. if you don't have kids, this blog is probably the best birth control ever. if you do have kids, i know damn well you can relate. the stranger at the party that i started talking to was eager at first to tell me how "good" everything was, when really she just wanted a non judgmental ear to listen and vent. i listened, she vented...and i made a new friend. i told her that the newborn stage with your first one is such an adjustment. your whole life goes topsy turvy and it really isn't what you expected it to be. i also told her that every stage goes so fast and you end up missing things you never thought you would miss. i explained my story about how i sobbed when i sold the baby swing. i went on to tell her how my first born is starting kindergarten next year and i'm pretty sure she was just hanging off of my breast a minute ago. she just smiles, shook her head, and took another slug from her wine. (keep calm and wine on, my new friend.)


coincidentally, we had an over night sitter that night because my aunt and uncle so graciously offered to keep our kids. this doesn't happen often and when it does, we usually aren't home in our own bed. (traveling to weddings and such.) anyways, we stayed out pretty late whooping it up (naturally) and then had the luxury of sleeping in the next morning. (i can count on one hand how many times this has happened since my kids were born.) i did wake up a coupla times throughout the night (ala ninja), but it was still absolutely glorious. the only reason i was jarred awake in the morning is because i heard the dog going apeshit and wondered what the dick was going on outside. it was sunday, but it turns out the post office was still making deliveries. (of course they were.) butch ran downstairs and came up with a package from the porch. after ripping it open he said, "OHHHH! i forgot i ordered these!" i rolled over and said, "what are they?" he exclaimed, "18 NEW pair of mens gloves! from taiwan! guess how much i paid for them?" i mustered a, "how much?" he said (and i quote), "FIVE BUCKS! on ebay!" so although he already gave out three pairs to unsuspecting family members (my uncle and his two sons when we picked up the girls), we have 15 pair of men's gloves up for grabs. so to be clear, on one of the only mornings (like, ever) that i could sleep in...i was awoken by a sunday postal delivery of sale priced gloves. (i can't make that shit up.) in between riding over rainbows and punching myself with my own closed fist...there will always be a story to tell. for now i'll park my unicorn, slap on a pair of 28 cent gloves, and sit back and enjoy my wine. for me, sugarcoating parenthood is not an option and unfortunately...neither is putting my kids up for adoption.

lights

if you can't get into the holiday spirit, i dare you to make a visit to my classroom. the excitement is palpable. i swear if you stuck your tongue out, you could actually taste it in the air. in fact, monday when the kids came back into the classroom from thanksgiving break it was like each one of them was hopped up on some type of holiday upper. (holy hell.) i mean, i kind of set them up for this because i decorated the room a bit, changed our class calendar to december, and welcomed back my classroom elf on the shelf. (hold onto your number 2 pencils, people.) last year was my first dance with this little stuffed guy and let me tell you what, at first i was skeptical. i am aware of the power of a child's imagination and all that, but i never thought i would get the response i did from that group of five year olds. they were so into it that they made me relive my own childhood memories and get equally excited. there is a reason that the elf on the shelf creator is now a millionaire, because the whole thing really is magic. this is also the first year that we have an elf on the shelf at our own house thanks to a hasty "sale" purchase from warren. my own children are so excited about this little guy that it kills me. seriously, it makes me melt inside like jack frost's nuts on a warm day. their facial expressions in regards to the elf are enough. however, their conversations about him are equally awesome. ella looked carrie dead in the eye yesterday and said matter of factly, "he really is magic." carrie smiled and shook her head yes. i was watching this unfold from the kitchen and almost needed a defibrillator to restart my heart. between my classroom elf and my home elf, i'm up to my eyeballs in elf on the shelf and holiday cheer. however, i am truly happy to be a part of it. (granted, it's only day 3...give it time.)

so say you come to my classroom and still aren't excited about christmas, you can shimmy out of your grinch costume and come to my house for more inspiration. it's not just my kids, though, because it seems that the holiday spirit has hit my husband in a big way this year and he has turned into...clark griswold. (i shit you not.) it all started when the neighbors across the street put up some elaborate light show a few weeks before thanksgiving. (for the love of...) i saw his wheels turning, but we never have gone "all out" on lights before, so i thought i was safe. every other year, we had a few strands of lights and the house looked festive. (never anything out of control.) however, i saw after the first day of decorating that he got a little fancy with the original strands and things just stemmed from there. then, everyday when i would get home from work around 4pm, i would see the neighbor guy hanging off a ladder adding more to his house. soon my husband was doing the same thing at our abode after dinner...decorating bushes and trees that have never been touched by a strands of lights ever. at first i was supportive and then i said, "yo, it's starting to look tacky...and by the way, i HATE colored lights!" he basically ignored me and kept adding things here and there like i wouldn't notice. (i noticed, warren.) when my siblings arrived for thanksgiving, my brother's first words when he walked in the door were, "are you having a christmas light competition with the guy across the street?!" butch started laughing and i rolled my eyes. my brother said suddenly, "well he is winning." butch stopped laughing...and then started talking very seriously about getting more lights. (sweet jesus.) my brother lost it laughing.

furthermore, when my dad arrived at my house on thanksgiving eve, he also said the same thing (oh, hell)...sending warren into a tailspin, pining for more strands of lights to make our house look even more ridiculous. everything came to head this weekend when we went to get our christmas tree and we ended up with two...one for the house and one for the PORCH. ("ella wanted it." -butch's words) he also got more strands of lights, and at my father's request (he LOVES to instigate) lights for each window. throw in my grandmother's mechanical mr. and mrs. claus in the bay window and you have a full blown menagerie of holiday puke on our porch and surrounding area. i will say that i know my husband's enthusiasm does stem partly from our own kids' enthusiasm and not just his competitive nature. (their enthusiasm is infectious.) ella has fondly named our elf on the shelf..."elfie." (how original, kid.) we told her she could name him anything she wanted and she said, "i choose...ELFIE." (ok then.) each morning they come downstairs and hunt around for him. i haven't done anything really cool with him yet (just moved him around the house), but nonetheless they have been quite excited. likewise, my kids at school shoot into the classroom like they are being exploded out of a cannon to see where their friend "jack" the elf is. i've said before that there should be a classroom edition of elf on the shelf that comes with a complimentary ritalin salt lick teachers can attach to the doorway for the kids to take a taste before they come in. (you heard me right.) they get sooo wound up, but i figure if i can stand 15 days of being bonkers for the sake of them believing in santa...it's worth it.

so here we are three weeks from christmas eve and i hope by now you are ready for old st. nick to saunter in and throw his belly and beard your way. last night we were sitting on the couch and i happened to look out the window. i said, "umm...why don't the neighbors have their christmas lights on?" butch looked out and said matter of factly, "cause we won." then he proceeded to throw his hands over his head and reference the movie billy madison by saying, "O'DOYLE RULES!" as loud as he could. i shook my head and laughed loudly. later as we went up stairs to bed i said, "do you really think that's why they don't have their lights on!?" my husband turned to me and stated very seriously, "it feels good to be on top. we won." (dear god, the drama.) i don't know when my neighbors will turn the lights back on or what is really keeping them from doing so, but i pray to jesus they don't have some master plan of totally topping anything that my husband has done in some sort of crazy christmas light show down. i don't have the time or the patience for him to be hanging off of the roof like some ass clown in the middle of winter. in the meantime, i will continue to feed off the excitement and enthusiasm of both my classroom kids and my own two children. (oh, and butch.) if you choose to be a scrooge this holiday season, i suggest you man up and embrace your inner child. if you don't, you truly are missing out. i can't wait until pseudo clark gets our electric bill and doesn't have a coupon to pay for it. i'll be sure to remind him of his "O'DOYLE RULES" outburst just a few short weeks before. no worries, though, i'll make sure i have some boilo on hand to lessen the blow...as long as elfie doesn't drink it all before then.

inspiration

after a faux thanksgiving last night with friends, i decided my best bet was to balance it out with a long run this morning. we had enough food and beverages to feed a small country. when i woke up this morning, i was in some sort of food coma and felt like building a cocoon around myself. i set out to run with high hopes of busting out my inner butterfly. (inspiring, i know.) i somehow made it seven miles, but believe me when i tell you it wasn't pretty. i think it was about mile three that i began feeling like my organs were going to shut down. around mile five i had cotton mouth like a mofo and i thought maybe i was going to crap out a kidney. i walked half of mile six then sprinted the first part of mile seven, cause i just wanted it to be over. the last half a mile i walked and i do believe i shed a tear or two. after a short bout of dry heaves, i arrived back home. booze and butter were oozing out of my pores at this point and i was cursing all of the calories i consumed the previous night. so naturally, i showered and decided to start baking and have a bloody mary while the kids were napping. as i stated before, i am always looking for balance. fall is one of my favorite seasons, coming in second to summer. (duh.) the leaves, the cooler weather, the food, the holidays...all fabulous.

however, one of the things that i do NOT like about the holiday season is shopping. shopping actually makes me a little crazy. so when fen asked me if i wanted to do a girls night on friday, including the mall and other stops...i said yes, but with reluctance. she lured me with the prospect of cocktails afterwards, so i went. when i am put in a situation that i really don't want to be in, i tend to act up. for instance, when she was looking for a comforter set in a large department store, i decided to lay down with one of the pillows in the aisle. she doesn't even bat an eye anymore, but she used to get really embarrassed by my antics. it really is a wonder how i have been friends with her so long, because she has had to put up with a whole hell of a lot of nonsense. that being said, i have dealt with no shortage of her nonsense along the way. drama finds her, and i'm usually along for the ride. however, when she let me know that babies R us would be our last stop...i almost blew a gasket. i mean, i was out for girls night and my children were sleeping at home. why the hell would i want to go into a place that oozes all things baby? she said it was too cold to walk and parked in the expectant mother parking spot. (relax, there were plenty of other nearby spots.) like a good friend, i poked out my belly and pretended to be pregnant, not to mention i may have had some wine in my travel mug. (what are friends for?) girls night is like free therapy for me, i enjoy it very much.

as we walked through the aisle with a baby registry, i knew where most of the stuff was. i pretty much have a doctorate when it comes to that place and she said at one point, "how do you know all this stuff!?" i replied, "i have two kids, remember?" as i looked through the list, i asked her if the baby shower was for a first time mother. she said yes. i knew it already, though, cause the mom registered for things like GLASS bottles. what the hell are you going to do with a glass bottle, lady? i'll tell you what you are going to do with it...you are going to break it. another item was antibacterial wipes to clean pacifiers. i didn't even know they existed. if carrie dropped her binky i would run it under water or pop it in my own mouth to clean it. the truth is half the stuff on that list the expectant mother didn't really need. don't get me wrong, i registered for all kinds of crap when i was pregnant with ella. (gizmos and gadgets galore.) however, i didn't use half of it. i suggest you talk to someone that already went through the joys of having a kid and ask them what they most needed, then totally disregard what they said because every kid is different and you will eventually figure out what you need when the baby actually gets there. kids have perfect timing with stuff like that. (it's pure madness.)

after we made our exit from the baby store, i was glad to be heading to a place that didn't have a giraffe as a mascot. it always seems that when i am out with fen that we find some type of nonsense, this time was no different. we settled in at a pub table, and about 4 bites into my appetizer a girl was walking towards us blowing chunks. (yes, vomiting.) she had an "oh shit" look on her face, her cheeks were puffed out and puke was spewing out of her. i looked at my watch and it was 8:46pm. i don't know what she did prior to that, but she must've had the go hard or go home mentality. this was an a classy establishment, not some college bar...making it very confusing. later at our local bar, a police officer came in swinging his billy club. after a chat with the manager, he left. i called the manager over and asked what that was about he said, "oh there was a robbery a few streets back, the guy used a butcher knife...he is wearing a grey hoodie and jeans." we both looked around...that pretty much described everybody in the place. (mind you, we don't live in a high crime area.) shortly after that, the lead singer came up to our table and said, "hey! i recognize you from the gym...you run. a lot. you are my INSPIRATION!" i laughed on the inside, mainly because if she knew how i was feeling while running on that rat wheel, i doubt it would be far from inspiring. i mean, i almost shit out an organ this morning...pretty sure there isn't a nike commercial about that. if there is, i'll gladly star in it.

actually, i was just relieved to not be at babies r us. thankfully, my toddlers are out of the baby stage, but both of my kids are in the stage of wanting to help me with everything. therefore, it doesn't matter what i am doing, whether it be folding laundry or cleaning a toilet...they are right up my anal cavity asking if they can help. although them "helping" can prolong the process of what i am doing, i let them help most times. i know that this creates confident, independent, and capable kids. if it adds 15 minutes to my routine? so what. last weekend when i whipped out the flour and baking supplies they bee lined to the kitchen. step stools came out and we were measuring and mixing together. i really must say that these moments with my kids really are what make all the other mayhem more bearable. then, something so sweet happened that i thought my heart was going to legit explode. i have mentioned many times that my youngest is afraid of a lot of things. well, she wasn't a big fan of the mixer. she was terrified, actually, of the mixer. every time i would turn it on she would hop off the stool and run away in tears. ella and i exchanged looks and tried not to laugh. (come ON, carrie!?) however, the next time i turned it on, ella gently reached over and said, "carrie, i'm going to cover your ears so you don't have to be scared." and that's what she did. my husband came into the kitchen and snapped a picture. my heart was melting.

so through this holiday season, make sure you hold on tight to those that are close to your heart. i know that i am so very thankful for friends like the ones who can make a faux thanksgiving feast loaded with delicacies that can lead to organ failure on a run the next day. i am thankful for my family who will be blowing into town this wednesday. i am thankful for my best friend who can turn a girls night into a bad sitcom, including barfing people at the bar and cops with billy clubs. i am thankful for simple pleasures like baking with my kids. tis the season for fattening foods and the feeling like you should enter the betty ford clinic. cheers to you and the things you are thankful for...may they inspire you, just like i inspired the lead singer lady next to me on the treadmill. if nike contacts me for a commercial contract, i will let you know. i can see it now..."just do it, but don't shit your pants." (pretty sure it's the next big superbowl advertisement.) most importantly, (as cheesy as it sounds) my kids continue to inspire me everyday in ways i could've never imagined. we can take lessons from things like their kindness, for instance ella's simple gesture to her sister. be kind to one another through this holiday season and strive to find a balance between the butter and booze...i'll be in the kitchen baking with a bloody mary in hand if you need some moral support.

poptarts

this photograph was taken this morning at approximately 6:36am in the car. wanna know why she's pissed? she's pissed because she wanted a pop tart. (a pop tart.) she's pissed because she wanted a pop tart and i don't have a pantry full of them...in the CAR. it started with whimpers about the pop tart and then when i said, "i'm sorry, lovey, i don't have any spare pop tarts in the glove box..." she then lost. her. shit. the picture really doesn't do it justice, because i was fully expecting her head to spin around and pea soup to come spewing out of her mouth. she was trying to jam her little chubby hands under her seat belt and free herself from her car seat. she was acting as if it was a straight jacket and i was a very terrible person for constraining her in that way. so in her mind not only was i starving her, i was also restraining her. not for her own safely...but because i was performing a baby hate crime against her. (two year old problems.) this is the thing about kids, they are so goddamn unpredictable. one minute she was smiling and saying good morning to her sister who was already strapped in the car...and the next minute she was acting as if she just woke up from a 5 year coma, starving for a pop tart that i just didn't have. ella put her hands over her ears and yelled, "it's just too early for this TARRIE! just too EARRRRLLLLY!" (holy balls.) out of the mouths of babes...and my thoughts exactly.

my husband has a longer commute than me in the morning, so he never gets to see some of the joys i deal with due to the fact i have this duty most days. i am fortunate in that i don't have to get them dressed, but when they wake up as i am getting ready...it's equivalent to a brain aneurysm. i'm not a morning person to begin with, so brushing my teeth and putting on my makeup with little people eye balls on me is not my cup of tea. most of the time my two year old is hanging off of my leg like it's a lifeline and ella is asking me nonsensical questions about every move i am making.  i'm not fully prepared to deal with their demands before that first cup of coffee, so having a little pow wow in the bathroom before the sun rises can be enough to send me into a tailspin. most mornings i whisk them out of their beds and into the car without much interaction. you know...a 'good morning', a hug, a kiss, normal morning pleasantries. today was that type of day...until the little one decided she needed a breakfast treat in the 13 minute time frame it takes me to get them from home to the sitter. she screamed the whole thirteen minutes, full on two year old tantrum...and then i pulled out an old adage from my own parents' bag of tricks. it went as follows: after calmly telling her many times to cool it, the screams did not subside. then i raised my voice and yelled, "do you want me to pull this car over and give you something to cry about?!" (did i really just say that!?) when things like this come out of my mouth without warning, it's kind of frightening.

i mean, i remember my mom yelling this to us in the backseat like it was yesterday and now when i say it, it seems perfectly sensible. however, if i really did pull over and "give her something to cry about"...wouldn't she still be crying? what purpose would that serve? she'd still be screaming afterward in the backseat and i would still be going crazy trying to concentrate and drive. also, she actually screamed louder when i said that, defeating the whole purpose of that comment in the first place. (come on, man!) anyway, when we stopped at a red light, i snapped that picture. how else would she believe me 10 years from now when tell her she completely lost her shit over a pop tart? now i have proof. i will say, "here is a picture of you losing your shit over a pop tart. you're welcome." (wacko.) i think i share most of this stuff so that i know i am not alone. parenthood can make you feel like you are losing your mind most of the time, i just want to know that other people are sailing the same seas. (misery loves company.) anything that can make you go from calling your kid "lovey" to violently pulling over your motor vehicle in 7 minutes flat is pretty powerful. luckily, the good usually outweighs the bad when it comes to being a parent...and if you are able to laugh about this stuff along the way, it's even more bearable.

they are this cute for a reason.

so i will end with this: if your child ever pulled an exorcist moment over a meal in the backseat and acted like their car seat was a medieval torture device...you are not alone. if you find yourself quoting your own parents with phrases you swore you would never say as an adult...you are not alone. if you have ever witnessed a meltdown due to a toaster pastry...you are not alone. if you ever have questioned your choice to procreate in the first place...you are not alone. the most important thing i want you to take away from this post is this: if it comes down to a dual between pop tarts and parenting skills, unfortunately it will always be pop tarts for the win. better stock up in your purse or pockets in order to be a successful parent. the parenting books won't tell you this shit, so i will. don't say i didn't warn you.

honor

after running in a race this past weekend, i feel like something within me changed. however, it wasn't the actual running aspect that changed me, it was the experience of the whole thing. before you get all judgemental and throw an eye roll my way...let me explain. i'll begin by saying that i believe certain events happen in your life and they become a big part of you. i believe that people cross our paths at different points for a purpose. i am also a person who believes that things don't happen merely by chance, but that it's all part of some greater plan. in other words...everything happens for a reason. (yes, i'm one of "those" people.) too many things have happened in my life that have pointed me in this way of thinking. too many things occurred that couldn't have just happened by chance or coincidence. things that became a part of me. things that became a part of who i am and how i live. the most recent event was this race. as you know from a previous post, a dear friend of mine lost his life fighting for our country in afghanistan. when tragic things like this happen, i always feel like you never think it's going to happen in your life or be part of your story. i would watch the news and see young men and women who lost their lives at war and feel a sense of sadness, but it never really hit close to home. i could never put a face on what was truly happening overseas. until this past june.

captain jason b. jones

a guy from my hometown and a young man known by many lost his life protecting ours. when i received a late night phone call from another friend of ours when it happened, i was overcome by grief and disbelief. as a young boy this guy ran around our house playing with my brother. his parents then recruited me in later years to babysit him and his little sister. i watched him become both an amazing athlete and scholar. later on down the line we became close friends. we had a mutual respect for one another and i have never met a kid with such drive and determination. more importantly, we had a shared sense of humor which made things fun. (and funny.) anyway, when i heard that a group of people would be running a race in his honor, i was drawn to do it. when i met up at the national mall with everyone that morning, i hugged his parents, sister, family, and friends. you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort. as we set off over the starting line and i got into a groove during mile one, i looked around and realized something. there were thousands (thousands) of people running for the same reason...running in honor of someone they had lost fighting for our country or someone that was currently serving. many had shirts with pictures of their fallen heroes adorning them...and i became overcome with emotion. several times i almost burst out into an ugly cry...and believe me when i tell you i'm not one for tears. on top of this, there were hundreds of service men and women cheering us runners on. they lined the streets of dc and virginia...eager to offer a warm smile, a high five, or a glass of water. (it was awesome.)

i felt encouraged, empowered, and inspired as i rounded into mile three. i happened to be running closely with my brother daisy and he leaned over at that point and said that he had to take a dump. (who does that? takes dumps during a race? daisy.) anyway, i stopped for him as he ran to the porta potty and i waited for a good three minutes before i decided to keep going without him. (get your shit together, daisy. literally.) i tried to take it all in as i moved along the course. also running amongst me were disabled veterans with prosthetic limbs. (i swear to you that two of them passed me. stop laughing.) even some soldiers who used hand bikes the whole way because they had no use of their lower extremities. (unbelievable.) determined individuals that would stop at nothing to finish this race. other runners determined to never forget the loved ones they lost. people proud of our country and proud of the people who protect it. i felt like i was amongst a sea of good people. (because i was.) i'm sure i am not alone in saying i felt our friend with me for some of that run. i know for a fact he was standing next to me laughing his ass off as i was waiting for my little brother to come out of the porta potty. i felt his spirit and his sense of determination with me as i dry heaved at mile 5. i know that all who had his name on their shirt that day felt that way at some point in their 6 mile course. (it was impossible not to.)

as i crossed the finish line, i met up with the rest of the group and we hung out for a bit. then i made my way to find my husband and my own family. as i walked toward warren, i saw that he had his nerdy tourist camera around his neck. (it's huge.) we have had several arguments on family vacations about this camera...mainly because he looks like a complete goof while wearing it. he was snapping pictures of me as i was walking toward him and i could do nothing but laugh. (he's like the portly man paparazzi.) i hugged my girls and felt accomplished...my heart felt full. when we sat down on the grass he pulled out the camera and started to show me some of the pictures he took. he then stopped at one and pointed to it. he said, "do you see that?"

we passed the camera around and everyone had the same reaction, it was somewhere between "woah" and "holy shit."we went home shortly afterwards and fen happened to stop by. she asked about the race and i gave her the cliff notes version of how it went. then i said, "you have to see this picture." it was still on the camera and i scrolled through. i stopped on it and said (pointing), "there is al, nate, pat...shake and cable are in the background..." without missing a beat she pointed to the light and said, "...and there's jason." some people may look at this and just see a random flash of light in a picture, i look at it and see something much more. (like fen.) i choose to believe there is something beyond myself out there. i believe our loved ones look after us long after we are gone. i believe their spirit sticks around. i believe as some of his closest friends laughed, ran, and drank bud light (that happened)...he was there with them in some form. like i said, i also felt him with me at different points in the race. (like at the porta potty.) so again, it wasn't the race that changed me...it was the circumstances, it was the company, it was the camaraderie of everyone running around me. it was an event that will stick with me always. as i laid my head down on sunday night, i was thankful for friendship, family...and my freedom. i was also thankful for my husband and his nerdy tourist camera, because otherwise he wouldn't have captured something so cool. i now have an even deeper respect for the men and woman who sacrifice themselves selflessly by serving our country. jason's life was not given in vain and he will always be remembered. he has become an integral part of my story and just by reading this...he has now become a part of yours. you should feel honored. i know i do.

"always remember, never surrender." -west point motto, class of 2007

backup

so my husband is away again this week. i know typically when you think of "teacher" you don't find it synonymous with "travel." however, he happened to volunteer for two overnight field trips recently. the first one was to new york city (two weeks ago) and the one this week is to the backwoods of northern maryland. (cue banjo music.) let's just call it what it really is...a vacation from his life and parenthood in general. when i say out loud that he has been gone two whole weeks out of the month of october it sounds really tragic, when in reality it really is something wonderful. i don't want to sound like a bad wife or anything, but i am a human being. motherhood and marriage has turned me into someone that really (really) enjoys some alone time. i actually relish the moments i get alone because they are few and far between these days. being alone is something you take for granted when you are alone often. (grass is always greener.) i mean, i've never been one to like being alone...until i was never alone. anyway, to make a long story long...it's nice to come home after a long day (long year) and put the kids to bed an not have to even acknowledge another adult. moreover, as a kindergarten teacher i have had my max limit of stimulation during the day (songs and dances galore), so settling in to some quiet time is my cup of tea. (or glass of wine.)

now listen, it isn't that i don't enjoy my husband's company. i mean for goddsakes of course i do...i wouldn't have married the man if i didn't. moreover, my parent's just celebrated their 36th wedding anniversary and i can't imagine doing anything for 36 years. (let alone actually liking another person.) however, when you spend all of your time with them, you fall into a routine that works for the both of you. (not just a routine that works for yourself.) therefore, for instance, when i am alone and can watch a bunch of episodes on food network instead of baitcar...i'm pretty pumped. one time i flipped on food network before he walked into the room and he gave me a hairy eyeball when he arrived. i said, "just watch this episode, they are making something really good." he sat down and flailed his arms at the screen and said (and i quote), "now this show would be really great if he just HOPPED out of the screen and served the food he just made to us. seriously i mean...it's such a tease. i can see it, but not smell it or taste it?! so stupid. i don't get why you watch it." this sent me into a tizzy. i was losing it laughing. however, there is something about the food network that i find soothing. plus, i get good tips and tricks about cooking and new recipes as well. (what's not to like?!) i reluctantly changed the channel to a dvr'd episode of dateline, which is a compromise show that we watch together at our house. it falls somewhere between baitcar and bobby flay.

i will say that even though i don't mind the fact that my husband is frolicking about in the woods this week, the kids and i haven't really been off to a good start. first of all, these were the following wake up calls from the kids over the weekend: saturday-5:19am. sunday-5:34am. however, we rolled around to monday and i shit you not it was like i was trying to shake awake two teenagers on summer break at 6:23am. (before the sitters.) both of them stared at me with a stink eye and i have to say...even though i don't like waking them up at that hour... i do get a bit of satisfaction when they aren't all bright eyed and bushy tailed. (hear me out...) for four years, one of both of them has had me up at ungodly hours. not only in the morning, but throughout the night. so pardon me if i like that they look a little pissed when i have to wake them up at the ass crack of dawn. two days prior, even though we did not have to get up for work (or anything!) they started their nonsense way earlier than normal. i really don't understand how kids do this. they don't have clocks in their room, nor a calendar. they don't have watches, nor even know how to tell the time. hell, at that hour the sun wasn't even up! so someone please tell me how they can decipher a saturday or sunday morning from a monday...cause i would really like to know.

alright, so backwoods butch made his way out the door and i gently shook awake laverne and shirley to head out the door to the sitters. the night before when we laid them down to bed i said, "did ella take a crap all weekend? i don't remember wiping her at all..." he said, "no, i think friday was the last one." so she arrived at the sitter that day and proceeded to take two massive dumps. they left such an impression on her caretaker that she felt the need to text me and tell me about these two massive loads. she also asked me what the hell ella ate all weekend. (everything. i think she is going through a growth spurt.) so after her nap ella said, "so i took two big poops at your house, right?" the sitter said, "yes..." she replied, "would you like a third!?" (i don't care who you are...that's funny.) i laughed out loud when i heard she said that. (she is not my child at all.) so later that night we were getting ready for bed and both kids were super tired. i had them in the tub and somewhere between the itsy bitsy spider song and elmo bubble bath...the two of them resorted to a splashfest towards each other. they were fighting for no reason. (so it seemed.) it escalated to the point of me yelling, "that's IT!!" (remember you mom saying that?) so i whisked both of them out of the bath and they were screaming like i was kidnapping them from a shopping mall. ("i swear to you they are my own, officer.") i managed to get both of them dressed in jammies and we walked downstairs to watch their bedtime show. (usually curious george, mickey mouse clubhouse...or that whiny bastard caillou.) it was then that ella turned to me and said, "where's my binky?"

i know. before you get all judgey and act like a total jerk towards me...i know that she is almost 4 and a HALF and that she should no longer be using a pacifier. (i know this.) i will say that we have put off the passing of the paci for quite some time. at this point she is only using it during sleeping situations, but i still know it's not right. she's given us some resistance about getting rid of it and most nights i just don't have the energy to fight with her. she explained to us, very rationally i might add, that she would, "give it up when she turns five. " (oh good...at least you won't have it in kindergarten.) likewise, she told us that she would, "use the potty when she turned four" and a couple weeks after that happened she did, in fact, start using the potty. she needed a little extra incentive for the poop...so i created a sticker chart that led to a (painful) trip to chucky cheese. after that, she was good to go. so when she said that she would, "give it up when she was five" i fully believed her. (the kid is no dummy.) however, i do know that she probably needs a little extra push at this point because her pacifier is like percocet. (addicted.) so monday night (first night without warren) when she said, "where is my binky?" i went to the diaper bag that we send to the sitter's everyday and looked. it wasn't there. i freaked out a little bit, but figured there was one around the house somewhere. in the meantime she turned into a raging toddler psycho and was yelling on the top her lungs that i, "BETTER FIND HER BINKY!!!!!!" (she was acting like i was hanging dora with a shoelace and making her watch.) i started yelling back and telling her to calm (the hell) down!...but she wasn't having it. after a few hail mary's i found one...under the futon. (phew.)

i'm not going to lie...i breathed a sigh of relief over finding that extra binky, because i didn't want to deal with her rath that night or any night this week that warren wasn't here. i wasn't going to endure that pain alone. (oh hell no.) i once read an article entitled, "you know you have a toddler when..." here is an excerpt that both my husband i found hilarious: "you know you have a toddler when you hate your spouse a little. toddlers can destroy your marriage if you let them. the stress of living in an insane asylum with a child who makes you want to fall on your own sword will take a toll on your personal relationship. people with out toddlers of their own will not understand how someone so cute can make you want to be single and living in a studio apartment with only a bottle of jose cuervo to keep you company, but this is the truth. do your best to not let you little cock block tear your love life apart. you don't actually hate your spouse, it just feels like it because you hate your life. remember: you are in a war zone. you need back up." i couldn't have written this better myself. so you can see why i want to share the pain of the "binky fairy" coming?! i'm not doing that shit alone, people. he is also going down it the ship. (sorry!) so anyway, i put both kids down to bed after the binky debacle and was all wound up to watch food network alone in the living room, without anyone to wonder why i am watching it. (wine was also involved.)

even though i had grand plans of staying up later than the norm (9pm), i went to bed quite early that night. it is quite weird climbing into bed without warren...i mean, he's always there. sleeping next to him is something like sleeping with a hibernating bear. he's warm, he's hairy, and he hardly moves. i do get a little nervous about staying alone, because i don't know what the hell i would do if someone broke in the house or some shit like that. (i watch too much dateline.) so at 12:28pm when the bathroom light flicked on...i was startled awake but remained completely still in the bed. in that moment i was sure that an intruder was in my house and was going to murder my children and i very violently. surely if an intruder would break in, the first thing he would do is flick on the light and take a piss. (logical.) after a minute i heard little footsteps and then the toilet paper, so i knew it was ella. (not an intruder.) i still didn't move because i wanted her to go back to bed after using the bathroom and not start asking me questions. she turned the light back off and it took me a good hour and a half to get back to sleep. i'd say about 2:33am i went back into dream land and about a half hour later i heard, "maaaaammmaaaa! maaaaaamaaaa!" across the hall. (carrie.) kids have the uncanny ability with their timing. i had just gotten back to sleep and she woke me back up. (how do they know!?) i brought her over to my bed for a snuggle and then back to her bed. (see you in a couple hours, sucker!) i didn't sleep well the rest of the night, but managed to oversleep the alarm by 20 minutes. (stellar start to a tuesday.)

i somehow made it out the door not too many minutes late. so that's how tuesday started...and it ended with me upstairs bathing the kids. ella gently laid her blanky and binky on the futon before we went up stairs and we were up there for about a half hour. low and behold when we came back down...i almost screamed. the binky...(the very last binky in the house) was laying on the floor. the entire nipple was chewed off and i looked over to see the dog looking rather sheepish. to be clear...the dog ATE the last binky in the house while i was bathing the kids upstairs. (i can't make this shit up.) after two nights with binky debacles, i took this as a sign that the gig is up with the portable nipples. i had a long talk about it with ella and surprisingly she took it pretty well. (she didn't act like i was hanging dora, anyway.) i knew she would probably wake up in the middle of the night, which she did. so did carrie. (mmmaaaaamaaaa!) butch is out of town so these two are going to bring. the. pain. this week. they both ended up in bed with me. carrie was gently draped over my breasts with her hand against my face and ella was inserted in my anal cavity. (so sweet.) i didn't sleep much at all. so here we are on night three of no warren and i take back whatever i said about wanting some alone time...because truth be told, when you have kids there is never any "real" alone time. (ever.) right before bedtime ella turned to me with the sweetest little voice i've ever heard and said, "i would give ANYTHING for just one. more. night. with my binky. just one more night." (percocet.) pretty sure that means she is going to wake up again.

laverne and shirley

remember if you are a parent (especially of toddlers) that you are in a war zone. you need backup. tonight my backup comes in the form of a box of wine after they go to bed, because butch isn't around to go to battle with me. i'm thinking about hanging a banner on the front door that says, "welcome back...i want to smash your balls with a blunt object." now that i'm thinking of it...pretty sure that would also deter intruders. either way, i may end up on dateline someday soon. don't worry... i'll be sure to dvr that episode so we can watch it later.

twilight

tuesday afternoon i arrived home from work and for the whole evening, i felt like i was in the twilight zone. first of all, my youngest brother (fondly nicknamed daisy, but that's a whole other story) was watching the kids for the day (twilight zoney in itself) and when i arrived back on the scene...both kids were still napping, the house was spotless, and he was folding laundry. (wtf?) i mean, when i leave my husband home with the kids for an extended period of time, usually all hell breaks loose. the kids are either naked or in their pajamas, the house smells (and looks) like a barn, and everything is in complete disarray. it doesn't mean he isn't taking good care of them, it just means he can't multitask. most women are born multitaskers and time managers, so they can get a lot of shit done at one time. most men i know are somewhere on the other end of the spectrum and if you give them a job they get it done in a much different manner. moreover, my brother is in college. (college.) if you ever attended college, you know what your mentality is during that time in your life: it's somewhere between...i'm gonna bong a beer and i really better get my life together. you think that you are really "busy" as well, when really you don't know one thing about what it's like to feel "busy." in fact, my brother leaned back in the lazyboy and said to me, "so i'm really BUSY, like sooooo busy." i said, "busy doing what?" he went on, "well...i have a job, 5 classes and a lab, criminal justice club, fishing club...and ping pong club." (he also wanted everyone to know he has straight A's...score!) ping pong club, people. do you know how awesome it would be if i could be busy playing ping pong, rather than paying bills? (bring on the ping pong.)

now i'm not downplaying how "busy" he (thinks) is, because compared to high school when all you had to worry about was friday night football and homecoming court...college is harder. however, when you compare it to the "real world" it's like apples and oranges. (no comparison.) moral of the story? milk college for all it's worth...the real world sucks. (stepping off of soap box.) anyway, back to the twilight zone...so there he was, folding laundry and i nonchalantly said, "so how did it go today?" he replied, "really well! they were really good and stuff." i'm not going to lie, here...i was a little leery about leaving my little brother with my first and second born. this is not because i don't trust the kid, because i do. it's because my brother has a tendency to find trouble. (it searches him out.) sometimes he doesn't mean for it to happen, but it does. for instance, on monday afternoon i picked him up at my house so that he could surprise the kids at the sitter when i picked them up. (this was his idea, he loves those little ladies!) so he jumped in the car and i said, "so how was your trip down?" he was hesitant and said, "i did something really stupid. probably the stupidest thing i've ever done." when this came out of his mouth i gripped the steering wheel and played it off, but my mind was going a mile a minute. truth be told, my little bro has done a lot of stupid things in his day...being 11 years older than him, i was witness to most of these adventures. therefore when he said the statement i wrote above...i thought, "holy shit this going to be bad." i still stared straight ahead and told him to go on with his story. 

he began, "so i got down here early and wanted to stop for a bite to eat and went to panera bread. i parked the car and got out and a lady approached me." i said, "what did she look like?" (i'm a visual person.) "welllll...she was a black lady, about 275 pounds, wearing overalls, those water type shoes...and she was missing a front tooth." (not judging, painting a picture here.) i said, "ok. so she came up to you?" he said, "yeah...and she asked me for a ride." pardon me, but my first thought was she was a prostitute. in today's world (unless you are in quite a pickle), you don't ask people for rides. mainly because people are crazy and you can't just be all hail to the hitchikers these days. (omg i sound so old.) i said, "a ride? a ride to where?" he went on, "well she said the gas station about 10 minutes away to pay a cab driver, but she was talking about her handicapped son and how he is sick and stuff...i felt really bad for her." at this point i was thinking, "PLEASE say you didn't give this woman a ride." he then he said, "i gave her a ride." i said, "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?! YOU CAN'T JUST PICK PEOPLE UP AND GIVE THEM RIDES AROUND HERE! WE AREN'T IN OUR HOMETOWN!" here's the thing, (in his defense) we are both from a small town and it really wouldn't be a big deal to give someone a ride if you were there. odds are you know the person or they know someone you know...so if they are going to chop you up into little pieces, someone will find out who it was. however, although my new town isn't a raving metropolis...you don' t just give strangers rides. (that was, in fact, a stupid thing to do.)

so anyway, he said he took her there and she told him her whole life story. (she was a farmer who cleans houses or something like that. that's what she said.) during her story, she was rifling around in a nike bag looking for something. my little brother thought it was a gun, so he thought it was a good idea to mention that he was in the police academy. (even thought he's not.) he thinks this is why she didn't pull a weapon on him. (oh good.) they made it to the destination and she handed the cab driver something (my guess is drugs)..then she got back in his car. she asked him for a ride somewhere else. he mentioned that he had to get back to see his nieces and ended up dropping her off at subway. (the restaurant.) she said she needed 6 dollars (for a footlong, maybe?) and my brother gave it to her. (she then left.) ok...so that's the end of the story. it could've ended so badly, but it didn't. however, i'm pretty sure it scared the shit out of him...cause he realized the clear and present danger here. i mean, he ended at subway with a sandwich but he could've ended up behind bars, in the backseat with a nike bag over his head, or on a backroad somewhere wtih a big, black woman making him her bitch. so like i said, when i arrived home the day that he watched the girls and everything was hunky dory (no trouble whatsoever)...i felt like i was entering a spaceship and speeding into the light. (the twilight.) he assured me that everything had gone fine, though, and the kids were happy when they woke up from their naps...so i just went with it. (well done, daisy!) after i got home, he quickly excused himself to go to the local gym for a workout and also said, "i now know why you run." (to escape, yes.) so he left and my kids went into full, "i'm going to punish you for going to work mode."

first they decided to play the game memory and began by fighting over one card. (the apple one.) that game has no less then 32 cards...but they were fighting over ONE OF THEM. (i wigged out.) i have no idea why kids do this. i actually had to take the apple card away from them, which sent both into a tailspin and minor tantrum. (for the love of...) then i got busy (adult busy, not college kid busy), making dinner and carrie was hiding behind the lazy boy in the living room. i spotted her and said, "carrie! are you pooping!" (she said, "YES!") "do you want to go on the potty!?" (she said, "NO!") so she stood there and shit her shorts while i made stuffed peppers. then i heard, "MOOMMMMEEEEE I'M DOOOOOONNEEE!" from upstairs. pretty sure ella wasn't up there making dessert so i said, "did you poop, too!?" she yelled down, "yep! i need you to wipe me please!" i just want to be clear that both kids WAITED until i got home from work to drop a deuce. all day i was praying that they would poop for their uncle and cause some problems, but karma was ready to bite me in the left breast as soon as i was in their presence. another kick in the baby maker was the fact that carrie slept until 8:30 that morning for my brother...EIGHT THIRTY! the day before (a glorious monday morning) she was up at 5:24am and was trying to reinsert herself in my vagina as i was trying to get ready for work. i really don't know how kids can pull these scams and shit off, but they are very good at it. (experts.)

so shortly after my bro came back from the gym, i had dinner on the table. we sat down family style, as we do every night and started talking. then there was a knock at the door. he jumped up to answer it and i was like, "just wait." i always look out the window first, because if it's somebody selling something i usually just smile and wave at them...and walk away. (whatever.) i don't know how door to door salesmen even exist anymore, cause anything you really want or need is at your fingertips with technology these days. (sounding old again.) if someone has to knock on your door to sell you something, you probably don't need it. (just sayin.) anyway, it was the UPS guy and i thought, "no way is he delivering weird beer again...that just happended." so i opened the door to find a box from proflowers. my brother eyeballed me and said, "ummm..are those from butch?" i said, "i hope so." so i opened the box and amongst the flowers the envelope said, "someone is thinking about you!" (seriously, twilight zone.) i don't know the last time warren has sent me flowers via mail. first of all, they are way expensive to send that way. (so i hope he had a coupon.) secondly, he never ever has sent them, "just because"...so i was really startled. i went out to the kitchen and put them in a vase and wondered if i was part of the truman show or some shit. like were there hidden cameras throughout my house to catch my reactions? first my college age brother who cleaned my house and was folding laundry and now "just because" flowers from my husband? (surely this is some type of show.)

so i spent tuesday in the twilight zone and all i could do was buckle up and enjoy the ride...kinda like the lady in the overalls. reality is that i'm trapped in the real world wondering how the hell i even got here, when i really want to be in the middle of a college campus somewhere yelling, "bring on the beer and ping pong!" as the nationwide insurance commercial states...life comes at you fast. just make sure you carefully choose the people that are coming along for the ride, because i'm pretty sure a toothless stranger standing outside of panera bread wearing water shoes shouldn't make the cut. 

postal

so i would say about a coupla years ago, my parents started gifting my husband the "beer of the month" club for christmas and his birthday. it's genius really, because he loves weird beer and this company sets up to deliver a variety twelve pack of weird beer to our doorstep every month. (lets you try weird beer until your little heart is content.) he loves it because he isn't getting, like...socks or something stupid. my parents love it because all they have to do is click a mouse and warren is set for both his birthday and the birth of jesus. (i told you, it's genius.) so anyway, the first couple deliveries went off without a hitch...cause we were home. then we had an instance where we weren't home and the UPS guy left us a little love note letting us know that we would have to sign for the package and show ID, because we had to be 21 to receive alcohol via his delivery truck. just so happened we weren't home during his second attempt, or his third...so they then sent the package to a post office mecca where undeliverable packages go to die. it turns out this place was closer to where i work, rather than where warren works...so i was designated as the beer fairy to pick up his godforsaken package. it wasn't like a huge deal or anything, but it was (in fact) a pain in the dick. i had to leave work early to get there so that i could also get to the sitter to get my kids on time. it wasn't in the best of neighborhoods either, and i really didn't want to get jumped over a box of beer. that being said, it wasn't what one would call an ideal situation.

so the next couple of deliveries after that occurred without any problems, because we happened to be home. then some months after that we had a similar situation of getting more love notes telling us they were going to send our package to the pain in the dick building where i would have to pick it up. however, the day of the third attempt i happened to be in the shower and i heard a knock at the door. normally if one of our friends is popping over, they never knock. they just blow in the door and our dog two paw punches them in the private parts. (this really happens.) so anyway, i was elbows deep in shampoo when i heard this knock. i realized that it could be the beer guy on his final attempt to deliver the weird beer. (shiiiiiiiiittttt.) so i quickly shut off the shower, grabbed a towel and ran down the steps wrapped up like i was in a head and shoulders commercial. i pulled the door open and said, "sorry! i was in the shower, but didn't want to miss you and then have you send this beer back to the weird building i had to go to a few months ago!" (i was speaking in exclamation points.) he looked startled...and then smiled. he stuck out his hand as if he was going to shake my hand. he did this because...he was going to shake my hand. i reluctantly held up my towel with my left hand and reached out with my right to shake his hand. (thank god there wasn't a slight breeze or everyone on my street would've seen my beaver.) he said, "hi, my name is ned and i actually live across the street from you. just so happens this is also my UPS route." holy hell. i'm meeting my neighbor for the first time...and i'm wearing a goddamn towel!? (this is not good.) i replied with, "well this is awkward, but nice to meet you, ned." he smiled, held out his handy dandy pad and said, "sign here."

then i went on talking...i mean, i was feeling ballsy at this point because i was standing there straight out of the shower, wrapped in a towel like it was no big deal. so i said, "since this is your route and you are our neighbor, is there any way you could just sign for the beer and leave it on the porch whether we are home or not? i would really appreciate it. it's such a pain in the dick to go to that creepy warehouse." he laughed his head off and said, "sure i can do that...no big deal." so for about a year, this is what would happen. if we weren't home, ned would just sign my name, he'd leave the weird beer 12 pack...and all was well in the world. i'd wave at him if i saw him later on in the street, but that was about it. so flash forward to this week and again we started on monday with the little UPS love note stating that they could not deliver the package to our address without a 21 year old signature. (wtf, ned!?) so we got one monday, one tuesday, and then i realized something...ned had moved. he moved about a month ago. therefore, ned was no longer our delivery guy. (noooo!) i decided to take matters into my own hands. i knew damn well that if that delivery guy showed up on wednesday and it was his "third attempt" he would leave a little letter telling me to head straight to the warehouse to sign for the weird beer. the last thing i needed this week was another pain in the private parts. (trust me.) i've been busier than a ballsack in a brothel and i don't know my head from my asshole at this point. running around like a chicken with my head cut off is a severe understatement...so this is what i did:

i was making my morning coffee wednesday and i thought, "well i can't accidentally answer the door in a towel and make friends with ned's stand in...so what other options do i have?" writing is one of my strong suits (shocking, i know)...so i thought i would compose a little love letter of my own to the man in brown. i whipped out a piece of looseleaf and went to town...this is what i came up with:

dear UPS guy,
i am aware you have tried to deliver a package here the past two days. today i'm asking you to please leave it if you can. i assure you i am not under 21 and the only people that live in this house that are under 21 are a 2 and a 4 year old (hence all the strollers and shit you see on the porch)...they are, though, the reason we drink in the first place. please leave the beer.
warm regards,
the woman of the house (age 32)

i could've mentioned how my 2 year old was up since 4:34am that morning, cause she wanted to get a jump start on her day. i could've mentioned that i had to take a dump with an audience the night before, because butch has now taken up "lifting" once a week and my kids barged in the bathroom. i could've said so many other things in that letter...including that i didn't want another pain in the dick this week and going to that warehouse would be number 234 in the dick pain count. (i didn't say all of this, but i could've.) instead i taped it to the door, strapped the 2 and the 4 year old i call my offspring into the car and headed off to drop them at the sitter and go onto work. the day went by (as it usually does) in a blur and i totally forgot about the note. i actually didn't think about it one time, until i was on my way home and my mother called me. we were talking about other stuff and then i said, "by the way! the delivery guy wouldn't leave the beer on the porch so i left him a note!" i then told her the contents of this note and she laughed like a loon. laugh away, mother, because lo and behold...as i pulled into the driveway i realized something glorious had happened. at first i just noticed my looseleaf flapping in the breeze, but then i looked down and saw quickly that he...LEFT THE BEER. (my note worked...here's to small victories.) here's a visual:

winner, winner, weird beer for dinner. all is well in the world...and i don't know what is going to happen next month, but this month? i win. however, if i have to go back to that warehouse someone is going to have hell to pay. i may take "going postal" to a whole new level. the headlines would read, "deranged mother of two toddlers goes apeshit at post office mecca over a box of beer." so if you see that in the news next month...you will already know it was me. one more thing...if you are looking for a genius gift for a loved one this upcoming christmas: remember that nothing says, "happy birthday, jesus" better than a box of weird beer. just please don't call me to write a love letter the man in brown when they give you a song and dance upon delivery, because i certainly don't need another pain in the dick to add to my plate.