hideous

have you ever heard a five year old use the word "hideous?" i have...and he was talking about my hair. he said (and i quote), "your hair looks hideous." he was very matter of fact and to the point. now usually, i start my school day looking halfway decent. however, by the end of it i'm covered in snot, glue, glitter...and sometimes vomit. (it's been a rough week.) so on monday when this brown eyed babe looked up at me lovingly and then grimaced and told me my hair looked hideous, i could do nothing but laugh. (it was hilarious.) earlier that day, this same little boy was privately passing out victoria's secret coupons to the girls in the class. (he pulled them right out of his homework folder.) as i confiscated them from each little lady, i called him back to my desk and asked him why he thought it was okay to bring them in and hand them out. he replied (with a dead straight face), "i want them to have nice things. they need nice things." (what!?) my face had to be priceless and i literally wanted to laugh out loud, but there were no other adults in the room to share my sentiments. shortly after this, during playtime, a little girl skipped up to my desk from the art center and handed me these:

as i sat there, i had to wonder for a minute what the hell i was looking at. before i could ask, she stated, "it's a strawberry! and a rocketship!...for you to decorate your desk!" not what i was thinking, but let's go with that. moreover, i have no idea what a strawberry and a rocketship have in common or why she decided to make them together? (kids are awesome that way.) i ended up labeling them before putting them on my desk, just so passersby didn't think i have a problem. a problem like hanging large construction paper private parts on my desk for all to look at. as i was looking down to label these gems, another little lad in my class decided it was a great day to decorate...his shirt. with a marker. he was writing on the whiteboard and suddenly turned the marker inward and went to town on his white button down. i gasped when i saw what he was doing and he jumped upward a little and i could see the fear on his face. i asked, "what are you DOING!?" he said tentatively, "drawing on my shirt." (oh, okay.) this all happened within a matter of minutes first thing in the morning. so hours later when honest eddie told me how he felt about my hair, it was just the cherry on the sundae for the school day.

many times when i am having days like this as school, my own two cherubs decide to carry on the nonsense at home. as i hopped in the car to head to pick up my kids, i received this picture from the sitter with the text, "this is how we found carrie after her nap!"

this little puddin' pop decided she wanted to get out of her shirt during the comfort of her pack n' play nap...and got stuck. she seems to be moving into the (ever so famous) nudie phase...when being naked is just the thing to do. no one told me about this phase the first time around, and i just thought ella had issues. i was (mentally) prepared this time...but alas my wonderful one year old, when you lack the motor skills and coordination to undress yourself...disasters such as these may occur. moreover, i'm pretty sure there is a picture of me looking just like this...from spring break a couple years ago after one too many beverages. (just being honest.)

later that evening, i was sitting with ella on the couch watching (yet another) episode of caillou and i was thinking about how much i dislike him. (him being the cartoon character.) i don't hate many four year olds, but this kid is one whiny bastard and a horrible role model for young ones. i can't for the life of me figure out why my first born loves him so much. (he's a dick.) the episode was called, "caillou in the bayou" and i was hoping in this one caillou gets violently eaten by an alligator. another (unrelated) thing about him, why the hell is he BALD?! (alright, enough.) we were on the couch and i looked up to see my little exhibitionist carrie...not wearing any pants. her diaper was off and she was free ballin' (free vagina'ing?) around the living room. i said, "woah carrie! where are your pants?" she looked up at me, looked down at her hoohah, back and me...and just kept on walking around. (what the hell.) ella thought this was high-larious and was laughing her head off at her little sister. butch looked up from his lazy boy and just shook his head. (he shakes his head a lot.)

this brings me to something that happened just last night. we were sitting at the table eating dinner and i guess both butch and i looked at ella at the same time (by accident). she yelped, "what are you two lookin' at!?" we both started laughing and she yipped, "look at your FOOD! not ME!" (more laughter from us, which pissed her off even more.) as i was clearing dishes later and butch walked behind me and said, "what is with HER? does she have like PMS already or something?" i said, "no, but can you imagine in a couple of years when we ALL have our time of the month AT THE SAME TIME?" he choked on the red wine he was gulping down and said, "oh my god. i seriously think i'm going to hang myself from one of the ceiling fans...and then turn it on. actually, i know where you can find me when that happens...at watermans." (our local tavern.) shit's gonna get ugly around here in their teenage years, so every last one of us is going to have to hang on to our hats...or hang ourselves from the ceiling fans. (either/or.) butch said he's going to get a bulldog with big balls and name him snots...just so there is some more testosterone flying around the house. little does he know, i refuse to feed another human or animal other than the ones that already live here. (no way, warren.)

so here we are at wednesday and because of the weather, it took me an HOUR AND A HALF to get to work. (it usually takes a half hour.) people in maryland wig the hell out when there is anything falling from the sky. i shit you not, when there is any type of precipitation they act like it's raining puppies. like actual dogs are falling from the heavens above...and everyone forgets how to drive. i had to go FIVE miles an hour for most of my trip. i mean, 40 mph would have been sufficient, but nah let's slow down to that pace. a pace where i could've run faster. anyway, i would like to plop some of these people down in pennsylvania in a "real" storm and let them have at it. i'm being truthful when i tell you these idiots should not even leave the house. i sure hope the rest of the week is a lot more wonderful. starting monday with construction paper private parts adorning my desk and a mid week commute that included pretend puppies falling from the sky?...it can only get better. i'm also hoping carrie decides to keep her clothes on. like most of mankind, i am definitely looking forward to the weekend. on saturday, i may make a trip to victoria's secret with my confiscated coupons, because teachers (and mommies) need nice things, too. i know one thing i am definitely doing...and that is getting a haircut. i mean, hell, i really don't have a choice...i was told that it looks hideous.

pony

the older i get, the more stupid valentine's day becomes. i mean, maybe i'm a (married) cynical person...but, really, it is just so dumb. february is chock full o' holidays, and that one has to be my least favorite. hell, i'll even take that goofy groundhog over cupid any day of the week. i realize that this (hallmark) holiday was a couple of days ago, but in the wake of a snow storm that left my liver and waistline screaming...i'm still thinking about it. let's roll back to last wednesday evening, the night before the big blizzard was supposed to hit. my husband had to work late that night, so when he called me on his way home, i asked him to pick up some "storm essentials." (i wasn't specific.) when he walked in the door, he held up a bag and it contained the following: a box of cheez-its, a bag of goldfish, a bottle of apple juice, a fifth of vodka, four candy bars...and two lobster tails. (that's it.) so to be clear, my husband decided to forgo the eggs, milk, bread, and toilet paper and skip right to the crackers and shellfish. (ok then.) he rattled off everything he got (like a proud peacock) and i said, "so i guess we are set?" (i was being sarcastic, not serious.) he said, "yeah...but we need to save the lobster tails for friday night, it's valentine's day. also, i got them for a deal...2 for $10 so they are extra special."(he was dead serious.) i just stared straight ahead, knowing he was going to pair these with the steaks i got on sale that week at the grocery store...and i just seriously hoped that we wouldn't die of food poisoning in the wake of our fancy dinner.

so that friday morning, i was making coffee and he sauntered up behind me holding something out in front of him. he was wearing long johns and a college hoodie and still had not brushed his teeth. inside this (unwrapped) jewelry bag he held before me...was a pearl bracelet. i pulled it out and put it on (while still wearing my pajamas). it was nice, but upon further inspection...he looked a little squirrely. he was making a face that i knew all too well. i then put two and two together and said, "wait...did you get this with a COUPON!?" welp, in an instant, there he then stood...doubled over, losing his shit laughing and said, "yes! it was FREE! totally FREE!...do you like it?!" (oh my god.) i shook my head and stirred my coffee as he came down off of his coupon high. meanwhile, mickey mouse was yodeling some tune from the dining room as the kids were eating their homemade (eggo) waffles and then ella yelled (over the yodeling), "WHAT SO FUNNY!?!" (a lot, my dear. a lot.) so there i stood, adorned in (free) pearls in the early morning hours, only to await my discount delicacies from the sea later on that evening. (lucky gal.) in between the bracelet and the low cost lobster, we made a much needed trip to target and also went out for lunch. sidebar: we went into target for diapers and walked out with $130 dollars worth of items. (why does this happen every time!?) by the way, this made butch NUTS because we only had a coupon for one thing...the diapers.

so anyways, that was valentine's day. my cynicism for the holiday is nothing new though, and doesn't have much to do with these events, either. i wrote this: love about the day two years ago, and i pretty much feel the same way today. let me also say that heading back to work yesterday after a five day hiatus was much needed. like i said in the beginning of this story, my liver and waistline were suffering after five days of freedom. last night after i laid carrie down to bed, i walked into ella's room to tuck her in. as i said goodnight, she stated, "i can't find my binky." i kid you not, i have spent at least a good 23 hours of my life looking for goddamn pacifiers. (they always disappear!) i looked all over (got irate), located it, and then laid her down. i hopped in the shower and when i got out i heard her yelling something from her bedroom. as i got closer to her door, i realized she was saying, "giddy up horsey! giddy up!" (what!?) so i peeked in and she was in the middle of the room, riding her pretend pony...and my nostrils were attacked by the scent of shit. i whisper yelled, "shhhhhhh! you are going to wake up your sister...and did you poop your pants!?" she whipped around (still sitting on the horse) and said, "yeah. i did." (smash it in there, sally!) so as my toddler was filming her own rendition of brokeback bowel movement...i was contemplating sending her down to her father so he could clean up the crap. (i also wanted to punch that pony.) however, i rolled up my sleeves and changed yet another shitty diaper, laid her back down...and hoped for the best. tonight, however, is girls night with fen...so that means daddy is in charge should either child wake up (while i'm gone) with pooped up pajama pants.

since this seems to be a story of updates, i need to add a little synopsis about my friend fen. about 2 weeks ago during one of our weekly girls' nights...the shit hit the proverbial fan. we were sitting there and she happened to look at her BGE bill and it was close to, like, $700 dollars...for one month. she has a fairly small house, with one roommate, so this is typically not the norm. (no matter what time of year.) in true fen fashion, her arms starting flailing, she got really hyper...and i believe i saw a few tears. as i sipped my wine, i watched the madness unfold...at one point i believe she thought she was an electrician because she kept inspecting the thermostat (over and over again). i tried to calm her down and tell her it was just money and she would figure it out. after a visit from a (real) electrician, it turned out that her heat pump outside was not working for an entire month. therefore, it was running on emergency heat that entire time. moreover, when she had the guy come and look at it, they couldn't get the part for a few days so she had no choice but to just let it run and then pay for the difference. in the meantime, BGE sent her alerts and updates about her "excessive heat usage." she forwarded them to me and i (privately) had a good laugh. (this would only happen to her.) i'm going to share my favorite ones with you...because i died when i saw them. here you go (these are actual emails they sent her and she forwarded them to me.):

using approximately 4,000 more kilowatt hours more than your neighbors in one month? just par for the course for fen. meanwhile, i will be heading over there tonight wearing my (free) pearl bracelet with a bottle of (groupon) wine tucked under my arm...par for the course for me. i have found that when all else fails and you are up to your ears in bills and other bullshit...you just need to pour a glass of wine and sit down with a good friend to laugh about your life. it's way better than therapy and a lot cheaper, too. i just hope i don't come home to another viewing of brokeback bowel movement...because there is only so much shit i can take. (literally.) furthermore, after a few glasses of pinot...i would probably punch that pony for real. cheers! 

potty

potty with your pants on? sure why not.

potty training is going to kill me. literally, if i drop over dead in the near future...the autopsy report will state, "she died while teaching her first born to crap on the commode." (seriously.) i mean, maybe i'm being a bit dramatic, but my god what a pain in the dick it is. what i really don't understand is why it's so hard? even animals are easier to train. a cat? you put it's paws in the litter and it somehow knows to take a dump in the pan. a dog? slip it some treats for crappin' in the grass and you are good to go. ella? her newest thing is hiding in an upstairs bedroom, locking the door, and pooping her pants. (fail.) a coupla weeks ago, she had a friend over to play and things got awfully quiet upstairs (this usually means trouble.) i ran up the steps and the other little girl was in ella's room, but ella was not. i said, "where is ella?" the little girl said, "i don't know." so i went to door number two, which was carrie's room and it was locked. i knocked on the door and said (loudly), "hello, what are you doing in there?!" she unlocked it, opened it just enough for me to see half of her face and said, "i'm pooping, i need pwivacy please"...and then closed the door again. (WHAT!?) i squawked, "EXCUSE ME, ELLA?!" she opened it again and said matter of factly, "i'm pooping, go away." (and shut the door again.) so i guess she was just playing another friendly game of hide and go shit your pants. apparently it's a childhood favorite. if we had a proverbial batting average for pooping and peeing on the potty...it would pretty much suck. (a swing and a miss!)

then i thought that maybe she just had the bedroom mixed up with the bathroom? so i asked her if she wanted to instead go to the bathroom and try to poop...on the potty. she screamed loudly...as if i had elmo at gunpoint and was about to pull the trigger that very moment, "NOOOOOOO MOOOMMMMEEEEEEE!!!" and so, i just let her go back in the room and crap her pants. (what else could i do?) when she came out she walked downstairs and said, "change me please, my butt itches." (you're killing me, ella. one bowel movement at a time.) my favorite part of it is when friends and family feel the need to remind me how old she is, "she SHOULD be potty TRAINED, she IS three and a HALF, you know!" guess what? i know how goddamn old she is because I WAS THERE when she was born. she made her entrance into this world via my vagina...so i'm well aware how many years she's been on this earth and also approximately how many diapers i've changed in that time. (about a billion. give or take.) so, yeah, i know her age and in an ideal world she would be potty trained by now. but she's not...so just back off. (end rant.) anyway, as you can see (from my irate nature) that this has been a struggle in our house for quite some time. at about age 2, she started going on the potty by herself...and then her sister was born. they say children regress when siblings come into the mix, but she didn't really regress...she just gave up. it's like she made a mental note that i was going to be changing another person's diapers in the house and thought, "oh hell, i'll just keep shitting my pants if this mommy person is going to just change the chubby one, too." (crap.) moreover, my mom told me that when my brother was born, i just started shitting on the floor. (equally awesome.)

so all this has been going on for a long time, and then last night something magical happened. we were all sitting on the couch after bath time, awaiting that glorious time of night we call bed time...and ella said, "i think i want to go on the potty." just like that. "i think i want to go on the potty." well it was a huge production getting her pajamas off and then she announced that she would like her minnie mouse potty to be moved out into the living room. (forget "pwivacy"...apparently she now wanted an audience. awesome.) so we pulled the potty out and tried not to make a big deal of it as she sat down. curious george was spewing out stupid songs from the television and we tried to carry on a normal conversation, all the while our 3 year old was sitting half naked waiting to relieve herself right in the middle of the living room. my one year old was trying to figure out what the hell was going on and just kept doing circles around her, staring at her and then looking at us like we all had lost our minds. (we did.) all of a sudden, the sound of trickling urine erupted into the evening air and we all got excited. (this is what our lives have come to. getting excited...about pee.) so after she finished, she stood up and said, "WELL, AREN'T YOU PROUD OF ME?!" we all high fived her and a (confused) carrie hugged her. meanwhile, she asked if she could flush it down the toilet. so there she was, with the pot of pee in both hands, prancing toward the bathroom. if she would've tripped, raining urine all over all of us, i would've died. (again, autopsy report would confirm potty training as the cause.)

so after bedtime, we sat there and i couldn't help but shake my head. is this really my life? (why yes it is.) also, i didn't know if this was the beginning of something good or just a fluke. up until this point, she was acting terrified of the toilet and everything i read said that you should, "take her into the bathroom with you when you go, so that she knows it's not a scary place." pardon me, but i'm pretty sure both of my kids have been annoying me in the bathroom since birth. i used to put a bouncy seat in there when they were really little, just so i could shit or shower if there wasn't another adult in the house. now when i'm using the facilities, they are either a stone's throw away or practically on my lap. dear authors of those books, this isn't ella's first rodeo with the toilet...she's very familiar with it. moreover, if she thinks logically about the amount of time her father spends on there...she shouldn't be scared at all. so hopefully we have turned over a new leaf yesterday and we are on our way to diaper freedom. even though carrie will still be crappin' her pants, at least i can hopefully say my three and a HALF year old will be potty trained sometime soon...that's if i don't die before hand from exhaustion. moreover, we got so excited about the pee, i can't even imgaine what kind of party we will have for the first poop. instead of high fives, will there be fist pounds and fruit punch all around? i seriously hope mine is spiked with something strong, cause openly celebrating a bowel movement is something i never thought i would do. parenting throws curveball after curveball at me, potty training is just another pitch. somedays i feel like babe ruth at bat and others i just feel like a rookie. this month i'm hoping to knock potty training out of the park...but would settle for a single, double, or triple shit in the toilet out of my toddler any day of the week. batter up!

winter

pardon my french, but old man winter can...SUCK A FAT ONE. (you know i'm serious, cause i actually used caps lock for once.) i can't be the only person that shares this sentiment. i'm over winter and all the crap that comes along with it. i'm especially over the sickness. my kids have been sick for like two months straight (give or take). every time one of them gets better, the other one comes down something...they just pass shit back and forth. i started this week with a doctor visit on monday, and ended it with a doctor visit on friday. both days, the waiting room was packed and it was filled with miserable parents (such as myself) who just want their kids to get better already. on monday, i had some time to kill before picking up prescriptions at the pharmacy...so i decided to take the kids for ice cream. due to the below zero temps, we were the only people in the place. (this turned out to be a good thing.) as we sat down at a table, ella made it about 5 minutes before she accidentally injured herself. did you ever notice that toddlers are always falling, sometimes for no reason at all? it's like they are just getting used to their new found motor skills and can't quite get a handle on them. anyway, she was sitting on the chair and at about the 4th bite of ice cream, she somehow flipped out of her chair and landed on the hard tile floor...on her HEAD.

i shot out of my seat and ran over, picked her up, and checked for blood over the screams. she was going f'ing nuts. i don't know how other people's kids react when they get hurt, but my kid gets PISSED. she doesn't get pissed at herself, though, she gets pissed at whatever caused her pain. in this case, she blamed the chair and the tile floor. she started yelling, "that chair is soooooo BAD! IT'S BAAAAD!! aaaaaaHHHHHHHHH!!" i noticed a large goonie on her head starting to form, as the young girl emerged from the back of the shop and said, "is everything alright out here?" (no.) i said, "yes, she just fell out of the chair...she'll be okay." ella was legitimately losing her mind and the girl looked startled, she was looking at me like i pushed my child out of the chair on purpose. then she said, "um, can i get you anything?" (adoption papers?) i told her we would just take our ice cream to go. carrie started sympathy screaming as we walked towards the door. i was so glad at that point we were the only people in the place. i had one kid on my hip and the other one was hanging off of my leg...both were acting like they were possessed by something unworldly. we went from smiles to screams in 10 minutes flat in that place. par for the course when you are dealing with little kids.

so that was monday and we made it through the week without many incidents. my (super fabulous) sitter kept my sick kids during the day. i told her outright that i don't know how she does it. believe me when i tell you that going to work was the better option here. they were both whiny, snotty, pooping their pants, and generally pissed off. and the thing with the little one is this...she can't tell you what's wrong. (no words.) so she just screams when something hurts and cries when she doesn't feel good. it's like a guessing game...do you have an ear ache? sore throat? headache? need a vacation? i just don't know. after a week of antibiotics, she wasn't getting any better so hiho hiho back to the doctor i went on friday. had someone told me a couple of years ago that i would be spending friday happy hour at the pediatricians office, i would've laughed my ass off as i sipped my beer and nibbled on some appetizers. (liars!) but there i was, sitting in the waiting room with my sick kids wondering how the hell i got to this point in my life. don't get me wrong, i couldn't imagine my days without these two ninnies in it, but my how things have changed. after dealing with their nonsense and no sleep for a solid week, i was at the end of my rope. in that moment, i wanted to hop on a harley and head off into the sunset. instead, i was reading "the belly button book" to my children as we were waiting for the nurse to call us back.

when it was finally our turn, we went into the next room where there was a scale. my one year old is afraid of...the world. i swear to you she's afraid of everything. add sickness into the mix, and even a scale seems daunting. i plopped her on it and she nearly leaped out of her skin, screaming to beat the band. ella yelled over her, "it's only a SCALE, TARRIEEEEE!" (good god.) anyways, i scooped her up and we walked back into the exam room. she was still had tears on her face from the (spooky) scale. so the doctor came in and listened to her lungs (with a scary stethoscope...more screams) and said, "ohhh...oh my. she definitely has bronchitis...and a dash of pneumonia." (a dash?...of PNEUMONIA!?) listen doc, we aren't talking about a goddamn recipe here. we aren't talking about pepper. pneumonia can kill old people and small children, she fits into the latter category. (excuse me for being a little hyper.) the doctor then said she wanted to do a nebulizer treatment right away and left the room. the nurse entered with the machine and carrie's eyes got as big as saucers, she was sitting on my lap. (she started crying before the machine was even activated.) in the meantime, ella was standing on the step of the exam table nearby. (watching.) the nurse whipped out the mask, turned it on, and then told me it would be over "real quick" and left the room. as i held the mask in front of carrie's face...she was acting like she was at auschwitz. (i shit you not.) i held her hands down as she screamed something fierce. in that moment, to my one year old...i was hitler.

somehow when i was administering the gas mask, ella slipped and fell off of the step...hurting her leg. (she got pissed, as usual.) she started screaming and then kicked the table. i pretty much had my hands full, so i couldn't really help her. i tried to remain calm, but i was in an 6 x 6 room and the walls were closing in on me. i told her to walk around and i would pick her up on my other knee. she told me she couldn't walk. (even though she was standing.) she just continued to scream, along with the other one. luckily the medicine ran out in the nebulizer and i was able to calm them both. shortly after the screams stopped, the nurse walked back in. we made eye contact and i said, "next time you bring someone a nebulizer, you should also serve a cold beer with it...or a shot of whiskey." (holy shit.) she started laughing and said, "yeah, i heard them screaming in the hall." but you didn't come to help me!? (wtf lady.) that was definitely ten minutes of my life that i would like back. i will state for the 2394 time that sick kids are the absolute worst. when i arrived back home, warren was also just pulling in from work. he said, "heeeyyyy! how are you? happy friday!" (help.) i told him about the (dash of) pneumonia and ella's injury...he then told me that he was really excited because he heard seinfeld was getting back together. (i just shook my head.) so, in conclusion...old man winter can eat shit. i'm looking forward to warmer temps, sunshine sans sickness, and summertime. in the meantime, i'll enjoy my discounted groupon wine, while dispensing antibiotics and albuterol to my children...but sincerely hoping that i don't have to reinact auschwitz again anytime soon.