rome

alright, so my last post was kinda morbid...talking about babies burning their hands and shit. it was not my finest motherhood moment and i'm sure it won't be my last. today i wanna talk about something lighter, something more fun...today i wanna write about going to rome. now i'm not talking about going to the actual place, but "when in rome..." is a phrase that my friend fen and i have used in many conversations throughout the years. as you know it means to, "behave as those around you do"...or for me, more literally it means to live in the moment. for example, if we are eating at a mexican restaurant...you better believe we are going to down a massive bowl of guacamole and then wash it down with a equally massive margarita, without so much thinking about the calories we are about to consume. (when in rome...) if we are having girls night, drinking wine out of a box and having a bag of popcorn for dinner is totally acceptable, no matter what the circumstances. (when in rome...) we may be taking the phrase a little out of context here to justify our questionable drinking and eating habits, but whatever. it is what it is...we try to make the most out of every moment, no matter what it may be.

this past weekend, both my husband and i both got to go to proverbial rome. i've discussed before how it sucks that we have to split up sometimes to have some sort of social life, but we are just at that point in our lives right now where sitters are too expensive and our families live states away. i'm sure as the kids get older this will change, but for now it's just how things are. butch made plans months ago to go solo to our hometown to spend some time with his sister, who was flying in for a wedding. although i was excited for him to get off the lazy boy recliner and venture out into the world, i was a little worried. i've mentioned before about the adventures of warren...and sometimes things get a little out of hand. for instance, he went away to a renaissance faire one time, bought a 70 dollar sword without me knowing...and bounced our very first mortgage check. (awesome convo with the bank when it showed up "sword" on the statement.) another time, he traveled to my brother's bachelor party and got lost in atlantic city...all the while i was at urgent care with ella who had a 105.2 fever. believe me, the list goes on. i could probably write an entire book about some of the debacles he's gotten himself into, but i will refrain for now. anyway, he went away this weekend and planned on meeting up with not only his sister, but some the friends we grew up with in our hometown.

let me start by saying that these guys are people he has known since kindergarten, and kids i met when i was in middle school. these are friends that would not only help you move...but would help you move bodies. i don't know why, but whenever they get together they turn into 18 year old boys and forget the fact that they are in their early thirties with real jobs and real responsibilities. (men tend to regress.) as soon as butch arrived, i got a text from our friend that said, "the eagle has landed...running out to get some miller's hot bologna and guers ice tea." (when in rome...or in this case, my hometown.) these are delicacies that we can't get here in maryland, but stuff we grew up on. i knew butch would be thrilled. (he was.) if you are reading and you aren't from there...miller's hot bologna is made out of, like, pig lips and guers ice tea will give you kidney stones the size of golf balls. (both are delicious.) the drinking of yuengling beer commenced shortly after he arrived and didn't stop until the wee hours of sunday morning. they played beer pong, made beer can chicken, and enjoyed each other's company. now listen, these little trips down memory lane are okay every once in a while and butch definitely deserves time to get with his friends and act like an asshole when he has the chance. however, when i got this picture texted to me...only three words came to mind: one. lucky. lady.

all jokes aside, warren sometimes has a problem hitting the brakes and loves to get wound up in moments like these...so when i heard from an old high school friend (who happened to marry the star quarter back, nicknamed "beef") and she said the guys ran into each other and were "reliving their glory days"...i lost it laughing. my husband went right up to the former super star and yelled, "beef! why didn't you throw me the ball in high school!?" (only my husband would say something as ridiculous as this.) he then got up on the bar and started dancing. when a friend of ours told him to get down, he jumped and nearly decapitated himself on a ceiling fan. (awesome.) if he would've died in that manner, i'm pretty sure i'd have to make a story up to tell my children in later years. i doubt "death by ceiling fan" would go over well. later, they went to a convenience  store and bought 30 dollars worth of chocolate candy and ate it all. (apparently men turn into menstruating females after drinking?) anyway, to make a long story short...he had a good time. he blew off some steam. he was allowed to act 18 for a hot minute and rode the hot mess express well. i think all of us are really 18 year olds trapped in older bodies. remember how carefree and awesome that time was? you didn't have so much as a worry in the world and you had a master's degree in acting up. pretty sure he wasn't the only one that enjoyed himself, so did the other guys that he was with. exhibit A below.

so on sunday i had the opportunity to get out on a boat with my friend fen and find my own little piece of rome. butch and i swapped places and he took the reigns at home when i headed out. i have not been that relaxed in a loooooong while, as i was on that boat this weekend. i think because even when i'm home and "relaxing" i am thinking about the 2,138 things i have to get done around the house, or someone needs something at any moment of the day. (i'm like a mommy ninja.)  i mean, i don't know the last time i read a book from cover to cover since my kids were born. i got to sit and read a full couple chapters without having to do anything but sip my wine as i turned the pages. (when in rome...) no one needed to be fed, no one's ass needed to be wiped, no one had anyone in a headlock. i had a chance to recharge. i can also check, "sleeping overnight on an anchored boat in the bay" off of my bucket list...although i won't mention the fact that i woke up in the middle of the night and would've bet a paycheck that someone was trying to break in. i shot up out of the bed and thought, "they want all of our shit and then they are going to kill us." my heart was racing, my head was pounding, but it turns out i just watch too many datelines...cause it was just the wind. (wtf.) i told fen and her sister the story the next day and they were dying. fen said, "what is wrong with you!?" i stated, "a lot." (i was seriously scared!)

so anyway,  becoming an adult may mean that you have to let some of your past disasters and debacles go...but it doesn't mean that you have to let that entire part of yourself go. yes, you need to "grow up" and "be more responsible"...but there is nothing wrong with having a good time every once in a while. when i was gone for the night, ella woke up in the middle of it crying. my husband went over to her room and when he asked her what was wrong...she told him she had a bad dream. when he told me this the next morning and i said, "well did you ask her what it was about?" he stated, "dinosaurs." (what??) as i walked in the door that afternoon, ella was awake and asked butch why she wasn't napping. he said, "dinosaurs, again." i looked at ella after he said this and we made eye contact...she looked sheepish and then started laughing. (hysterically.) she is a total scam artist with her father and she knows it. i know it as well...and that's what the laughter was about. (dinosaurs.) i said, "ella, really? dinosaurs!?" she lost it again. so this weekend it's back to dateline and wine, kid's birthday parties, and enjoying the beautiful weather with our children. (maybe a little home depot, bed bath & beyond...i don't know if we'll have enough time.) sometimes finding balance is a struggle, but i feel like if you aren't spending every weekend getting nearly decapitated by ceiling fans or accosted by pretend pirates...you're good. maya angelou passed away this morning. she was a great writer and one hell of a well spoken woman who made statements such as, "seek life's laughter..." and "grab life by the lapels." i agree but would rather say (ever so eloquently), grab life by the balls, the boat, the miller's hot bologna...or whatever is going to make it better for you. go to rome and do it with gusto...and most importantly, don't let life's dinosaurs hold you back.

iron

so last friday morning, something really friggen frightening happened at our house. it is as follows: my one year old touched a hot clothes iron with her hand. (insert audible gasp here.) she had woken up earlier than normal that morning and i got her out of her crib. my husband was in the shower and i laid back down in our bed with her for a few more snuggles before i had to wake up and enter the real world. i laid there and held her until the last possible second. she followed me to the bathroom and watched as i washed my face and put in my contacts. stood there staring as i was putting on my makeup and then went out into our bedroom. i had a container of spare change and she got it off of the dresser. (237 toys, lets play with money.) she was sitting on the floor within eyeshot, playing with some coins. butch got out of the shower and was in the bedroom with her. he ironed his shirt, pulled out the plug, and left the iron on the board. (we have a small ghetto college ironing board that sits on top of the laundry basket.) i heard him go downstairs as i was brushing my teeth. approximately 40 seconds after i heard him leave the room, i heard her scream. it is a scream i never (ever) want to hear again. i dropped my toothbrush in the sink and ran through the doorway. carrie wasn't anywhere near the iron at this point, so at first i didn't know what the scream was about. i thought the cat scratched her or something...or that something scared her. (like a piece of lint on the floor...i shit you not, this is something that would happen.) then i saw the iron, put two and two together...and yelled for butch.

he came plowing up the steps and i said, "i think she burned herself!?!" (i was way hyper.) then i saw redness on her hand and immediately ran back into the bathroom with her to run it under cool water. she was losing her mind. (it had to hurt like a bastard.) butch just stood there bewildered. of course i played the blame game and said, "WHY would you leave the hot iron within her reach!?" he said, "i don't KNOW! i WASN'T thinking!" (now he was also hyper.) here's the thing...we were out of routine. usually she is sleeping up until i come into her room, wake her, change her diaper...and then put her into the car. however, she was up and smiling before the birds started chirping that day. needless to say, we both felt terrible. he felt terrible because he had left it within a one year old's arms reach, and i felt awful i didn't have an eyeball on her in that moment. accidents happen so fast. her little hand started to swell and blisters started to form. i shit you not i thought i was going to throw up. carrie talks minimally, but kept whining "mama! ouch! mama! ouch! (i wanted to off myself.) i didn't know whether to take her to the doctor, the ER, or urgent care. (i consulted with a family doctor friend.) it was like 6:30 in the morning and i really didn't know how bad the burn actually was. in the meantime, ella was shell shocked...she was just staring at us. i told butch to go to work and i would take care of it. however, when it hit about 8am and she was still crying...i called him back and told him to come the hell home. we ended up dropping ella at the sitter and heading to the ER with carrie. we were there all morning.

we had to repeat the story over and over again and i totally felt like social services was going to show up and put us in handcuffs. i explained that this was our first real trauma (other than ella almost knocking out her front teeth on a tricycle) in 4 years. one of the nurses shook her head and said, "when my son was little, we spent so much time at the ER...accidents happen, honey. just relax." (thank god for people like this, cause i was about to lose my shit.) carrie was pretty calm at this point but i've mentioned before how she's scared of the world. so sitting in unfamiliar emergency room was no treat for her. when they examined her...the scale, thermometer, and blood pressure cuff sent her into a tailspin. plus, her little hand hurt so that didn't help matters. i can't really explain how i felt in these moments...other than i was a horrible, awful mother for letting this happen. i didn't want her to be in pain, and i would've sawed off my left arm in a second if i knew her own pain would subside. (right there in the ER.) in conclusion, it sucked. after the doctor came in, they dressed the burn and she immediately fell asleep. she had expended so much energy that morning that once it felt better she sacked out. we left in the early afternoon and went back to pick up ella. she had a billion questions about carrie's bandage and said, "i never, ever touch an iron. ever." (glad everyone learned a lesson. including the parents.) after some happy meals, both girls went down for naps and butch and i both breathed a sigh of relief. (and really needed a stiff drink at that point.)

i guess i'm sharing this because it's crazy scary how one split second can change the course of an entire day and also because maybe some parents can relate to a childhood trauma like this that you never expect to happen. other than carrie waking up earlier than normal, it started as just another day. i do know that things could've been much (much) worse. the palm of her hand was burned, but it could've been her face, her arm, both hands...who knows. it was more of a misunderstanding between butch and i as well. i mean, i didn't know he left the iron there or i wouldn't have left her out of eyeball shot. moreover, i am so utterly in awe of how resilient children are. she woke up from her nap that friday and acted like nothing happened. she never even tried to rip off her bandage and only whimpered when i would have to change the dressing. by last night, the wound was pretty much healed and she is almost back to her normal self.

i tucked both of of my kids into bed last night and was hoping for an incident free monday morning. (it was.) with parenthood, you have to take the good with the bad. i will say that friday was a very, very bad day for both butch and i. we felt worthless. when i went up to bed last night, i peeked in on both kids to make sure they were sleeping. (breathing.) i found ella snuggling ever so sweetly...with a pair of binoculars. i laughed myself right over to my own bedroom and shook my head thinking i have one kid sleeping with a bandaged hand...and another snuggling with a pair of binoculars. (i also thought i better document this nonsense, because when they are older they will never believe it.) pretty sure all parenting books should have the same slogan on the front: "buckle up." thanks for coming along for the ride...it's been a bumpy one at best, but one i wouldn't change for anything. except for maybe the burned hand, i'd probably bipass that moment if i had to do it over again. however, sleeping beauty with the binoculars? well that's one of the best.

mom

so something started happening the past couple of weeks and it is as follows: ella started calling me "mom" as opposed to "mommy." it may not sound like a very big deal, but i died a little inside the first time she said it. who knew that an abbreviated version of my namesake would cause me such a queer feeling? (suddenly my little girl wasn't so little anymore.) now don't get me wrong, i'm okay with not hearing, "MOOOMMMMMMEEEEE!!!" from the other room when her sister is assaulting her. i always yell back, "WHHAATTTEEEEE???" anyway, this little name change is a game changer. things they don't tell you in the parenting books #231: when your kid suddenly starts calling you "mom" as opposed to "mommy," you will die a little inside. (true story.) so another mother's day just passed, and i told my husband that i only wanted one thing yesterday...to sleep in. so of course, i was the first one awake at 6am...thinking about alllllll the shit i had to get done. i forced myself to stay in bed though and as i was laying there, ella snuck up behind me as i was on my side and whispered (in her best serial killer voice), "good morning, moooom." she scared the bejeezus out of me and i gasped...and then screamed. my outburst scared butch who was startled awake and he yelled something absurd, sitting straight up in the process. our reactions both scared ella, who almost started to cry. (i then started laughing.) i rolled over and grabbed her, pulling her in bed with us and forced her to snuggle with me. i then asked her if she ate cow manure in the middle of the night, because her breath could've knocked out mayweather in a fight.

eventually, butch got both kids out of the room and i laid there willing myself to go back to sleep. (it wasn't happening.) shortly after this...all i knew was the whole house smelled like bacon, i didn't have to cook anyone breakfast, and i was pretty sure that it was going to be a good day. (any day that starts with bacon has to be a good one.) i made my way downstairs and he said, "i'm going to go to the grocery store for food for the week...do you want me to take them with me?" (does a bear shit in the woods, warren?) i played it cool and shook my head yes. after they left, the house was eerily quiet. (i'm never alone in the house. ever.) i then had the option of going back to bed or heading out for a run. i consulted fen on what to do, and she assured me the former would be a better option...so i climbed back under the sheets and laid there like i used on a sunday morning before having kids. by some grace of god, i fell back asleep and then woke up to ella knocking on the front door like a solicitor and the dog barking like an asshole. (come on, man!) after a long run in the sunshine, i rounded up everything we needed for an outing and went to the local park. i don't know if mother nature was trying to make up for her bitchy winter behavior...but the weather was absolutely gorgeous yesterday. (beautiful.) when we arrived on the scene, my husband exclaimed, "i'm gonna work on my tan." i turned around to see him shirtless...his chalk white plus size physique glistening in the sun. (so sexy.) we started our adventure with a picnic and then we decided to fly a kite.

so add, "flying a kite" to the things my one year old is afraid of. this comes second to bugs, trash, walking on unsteady surfaces, sticks, grass, rocks, and trees. in conclusion, the park was really fun. ella said, "why is she afraid of evvverrryyythinnngg?" i don't know, but they are polar opposites in that respect. ella is our go getter and loves to dive into everything, even things she's not sure about. carrie is apprehensive in all movements and even a kite scares the living daylights out of her. luckily, she does warm up after a while to most things. i think it's so incredibly weird that two kids can be so much the same yet so different in so many ways. i always saw this with my brothers, but by golly it's weird when it's with your own creations. about that, mom's are awesome for so many reasons...but i think the fact that they can grow a tiny human inside of them and shoot it out of their lady parts has to be my most favorite thing about them. i mean, really, i know it's the "miracle of life" and shit...but it's sorta mind boggling that the female human body can do this. i think hearing both of my kid's heartbeats inside of me for the first time was one of my all time life altering moments. (it's amazing.) coming second to the first time i actually got to see them when they made their entrance into this world via my vagina. (yep.) so anyway, we had a great day. butch did nice things for me most of the day, and kept saying, "it's your day." (well played.) he didn't even bat an eye when he saw me pour a bloody mary into a travel coffee mug to take to the park. (don't judge me, i wasn't driving.)

i think now that i am a mother myself, i am in constant awe of my own mother...and all the other mom's i know. i think a lot of us are quick to judge each other, but really...we all play for the same team. (a bat shit crazy one.) we have a lot of the same struggles, the same joys, the same daily BS our kids put us through...and sometimes it's still hard to recognize and relate to each other. raising kids is hard. (really hard.) some of us are better at juggling all of this nonsense than others. i'm no super mom and i will never proclaim to be one. hell, half the time i am just hoping i am not raising future serial killers. i make sure my kids have all of what they need, some of what they want and always, always laugh and play along the way. i know i am so very lucky to have two happy and healthy children. although i whine and moan about it often, i don't take that for granted for a second. just because raising children is one of the most awesome things ever, it doesn't negate the fact that they are an incredible pain in the ass. (bloody mary's help with that aspect.) god made these little people cute for a reason, there is no mistake in that. they are even cuter when they don't have each other in a headlock.

so as my three year old transitions from calling me mommy to mom and my second born is still scared of inanimate objects, my heart is filled with nothing but love and gratitude for my two little ladies. i don't think the love for your children can be topped by any other love there is. it's something that can't be explained, only something felt. we rounded out mother's day with hot dogs on the grill, corn on the cob, and ice cream from coldstone creamery...because my husband had a coupon. (BOGO, baby.) you can only do the best you can with what you have and hope for the best. in the words of the writer j.d. salinger..."mothers are all slightly insane." if you are a mom and don't agree with that statement...i call bullshit from here to the maternity ward. some days you feel like wearing a straight jacket and others you wear a smile. most days we should wear some sort of super hero cape, because it's the only attire appropriate for someone who does so much and expects so little in return. at the end of the day at least i know for sure the younger one won't turn out to be a serial killer, based on the mere fact that she is afraid of...a kite.

fear

so something magical happened in my classroom yesterday. when i first tell you about it, you will probably not think it's so magical...but by the end of the story, i hope you get why it is. there is a little boy (let's call him ray) in my class who has been (since before coming to kindergarten) petrified of thunder storms. i'm not just talking a little whimper when it happens...i'm talking full blown shaking, crying, hiding, scared shitless of the storm. in fact, the first week of school i send home a paper that asks all parents, "is there anything you feel i should know about your child?" his mom stated that he is severely afraid of storms and that in preschool the teacher would have to to put headphones on him to help him get through it. after i read this, i made it a back burner goal to try to get this kid over his fear by the end of the year. i didn't know quite how i was going to do it, but i was determined. now here's the thing with fears...they are usually (quite often, really) irrational. i know this because for no apparent reason...i am afraid to fly. i'm not afraid of heights, no one i know (except people on grey's anatomy) has perished in a plane crash, i'm not afraid to die...but for some reason i can't get myself on a plane. (irrational i tell you.) fears suck that way, and i'd imagine when you are kid they suck even worse because you have your peers to contend with when you are scared, especially at school.

when the first thunder storm hit at the beginning of the year, many of the kids were quick to tease ray because of his fear. some children lack empathy and as a teacher i have to create an environment where they encourage rather than demoralize each other. when you are five...it's easier to patronize and tease someone for something, rather than help them out and build them up. (truth be told, some adults have issues with this as well.) so as the thunder rolled and the lightening striked outside (straight out of a garth brooks song), ray cowered next to me and cried. i rubbed his back, said encouraging words to get him through it (he ended up on my lap)...while some kids stared and other kids laughed. i nipped the laughing in the bud real quick, but the staring was harder. understandably, some of the children just didn't understand this fear. here was their friend, freaking out about something...and they didn't get it. i would say about a couple more times, this same charade played out in the classroom during storms. if ray was on the playground when a storm rolled in, the other kindergarten teachers on duty would have to deal with him. sometimes, ray's father would even show up at the school because he was so concerned about how he would react. anyway, as the year went on...i noticed that if i semi ignored and downplayed the behavior, it seemed to lessen. i would still console him and stuff, but i wouldn't go full throttle. we had maybe another handful of thunderstorms throughout the school year and each one more tolerable for ray.

on my way to school yesterday, the the radio let me know that we would have afternoon showers with possible thunderstorms...i immediately thought of ray. we went throughout the morning with sunshine, but as we approached recess time the clouds rolled in. as i ate my lunch at my desk, i was  eating an apple and as i crunched into it...a loud clap of thunder shook the school. i jumped up and thought, "holy hell...where's ray!" luckily, the on duty teachers had brought the kids in already and they were watching a movie. i rushed in the room (but played it cool) and walked back to my colleague and whispered, "what's going on with ray?" she said, "it's the weirdest thing, but he's watching the movie and acting like it's no big deal." sure enough, there he sat engulfed in the movie. i had to bring the kids back to my room for rest time and i knew that maybe without the distraction it would be a problem. we filed out of her room and another little boy who saw ray's apprehension while he was looking out the window said, "you don't have to be scared...it's just a noise." ray said, "stop teasing me!" the boy said, "i'm not teasing you...i'm just trying to help you." when we went back to our room, another loud boom of thunder. he looked at me. i said, "you can do this." the kids were all encouraging him as well. (teaching win.) usually by this time, he'd be curled up in a corner shaking and crying, scared out of his mind. at this point, he hadn't shed one tear and i wanted to keep it that way. i moved his rest mat close to my desk. he laid down. i leaned over and whispered, "i am so SO proud of you right now. keep up the good work." (big smile outta ray.)

then between thunder claps, there was a knock at my door. it was ray's dad. i walked over to the door slowly and when i saw him i whispered, "he's getting through this and he's doing just fine. he yelped, "really!?" i pointed over my shoulder and there was ray with a big smile on his face. the dad was flabbergasted. (as was i...but i had my poker face on.) i told his dad to go back to whatever he was doing...ray would be just fine. (he smiled, and left.) throughout the rest of storm, i kept flashing him encouraging looks and then finally he just seemed to be over it. the storm ended just as rest time did, so when we got up he kinda looked out the window like, "well that wasn't that bad." as all this was going on, i got a text from one of the other kindergarten teachers that wasn't even in school (due to a meeting)...she wrote, "how is ray doing with the storm?" so you see, we all know the severity of his fear and genuinely care for his well being. here is this other teacher (9 months pregnant, mind you) in a meeting for a kindergarten assessment program we have to be trained on...she heard thunder and thought of ray. (this is what teaching does to you...these kids become your own.) i texted her back and said, "he conquered his fear! i'm so proud of him! it was awesome!" all three kindergarten teachers were excited for ray. (i might've thrown a fist pump in the sky as well.)

when the kids came back from gym class, i had ray stand up on a chair and i stated to the class, "so something big happened today (drum roll please)...ray conquered his fear of thunderstorms!" (i explained that conquered means to "get over.") the kids went wild. claps, cheers, high fives...and then an unprompted group hug for ray. (i got chills.) the kids were SO excited for him and i could tell by his ear to ear grin that ray was also excited for himself. at the end of the day, he came back to my desk and said..."so you told me the thunder is just a noise the clouds make when they come together, and the lightening is just electricity like a light in the sky...why was i so scared before?!" (lightbulb moment for ray.) i said, "well i've been trying to figure that out all year, ray...but now that you have it under control, you don't have to worry about it anymore. as long as you are in a safe place like a school building, a car, or your house...you are safe." he hugged me. i hugged him back. these little moments in teaching are what keep me going. it's normally not something catastrophic that touches my heart, it's little light bulb moments that make a difference. ray is one of the brightest students in my class. he is reading above grade level, is awesome in math, writes very well, and has handwriting to rival my husband's. however, he just had this pesky embarrassing fear that he had to get over...and with 26 days to spare in kindergarten, he did it. i couldn't have been prouder of him. as usual, the kid's in my class every year always teach me much more than i teach them. after this magical moment, i realized i should probably conquer my own fear...and get my pansy ass on a plane. maybe i need a five year old rooting me on...i'll ask ray if he's up for the job.

show

"fill me with a baby." -my uterus

alright, so here's the thing...i'd say in the past month or so, my uterus has been talking to me. at first, it started whispering sweet nothings in my ear and it was no big deal, but this past week it went full on ape shit and i am a little startled by the whole thing. i'm not sure if this is due to recent events, such as (but not limited to): the recent potty training of my 3 year old (and her newfound independence?), the 32nd anniversary of my birth (getting older?), the fact that i attended a baby shower this week (belly envy?)...i just don't know what prompted this for sure. i do know, though, that a lot of people in my life have been firing out kids left and right. friends from near and far are either getting knocked up or ready to saddle up in the stirrups to add another person to the planet. as i knock back another glass of wine, i can't help but wonder if other women experience this. do other women have their womb whisper sweet nothings to them as well? what prompts this phenomenon? if you are guy reading this, you are probably going to have a hard time relating to this one...but you already know women are bat shit crazy, so the fact that their uterus speaks to them should come as no surprise. as mine was screaming at me this week, i debated on whether or not i should share...or if i should stuff my feelings deep down inside and try to squash my biological clock. (as usual, i chose the former.) 

prior to this post, i first shared with my husband. this is how that conversation went. "i don't know what is going on with me but my body is, like, telling me to have another baby?" (he proceeded to stare at the laptop screen. motionless.) "are you listening?" (nothing.) ella chimed in and said, "OH BOY! A BABY! A BABY!?" (it's like my uterus came to life and took the form of a three year old.) carrie clapped to get in on the action. warren stared straight ahead and said not one word. (followed by more staring.) at this point, i started laughing. i don't think he was trying to be funny at all, but his attempt to ignore me was quite hilarious. here's the thing...i've said before that right now (like this week) i really don't want another baby. we can't afford another baby. in fact, the thought of another baby makes me a little squeamish...and then my uterus starts talking again. it starts yelling at me and even though i tell it to shut the hell up, it protests. the other thing is this: although i moaned and complained throughout the first couple years of both of my kid's lives...where the hell did that time go? why does it go so fast? ella and i were talking last night at bedtime. she stated, "mommy, when i grow up...i'm going to miss you." (i had a moment.) even though i knew what she meant, i said, "what do you mean?" she said, "well, i won't live with you and stuff. i'll miss you." (another moment.) little does she know that i already miss her.

i miss the newborn she was, with all of her crazy hair and the fact that she needed me all the time. i miss the little person she turned into when she learned how to walk. i miss when the first couple of words came out of her mouth and how we treated her like she was maya angelou reading a poem...even though she only said, "ball." i miss the first time she got dressed herself and yelped, "aren't you pwoud of me!?" (no mention to the fact that she was wearing something absurd.) i miss all of those things...and i'm guessing it won't get any easier, either. so when she said she was going to miss me in her adulthood, i was already missing the first (almost) 4 years of her life. now before you call me a hypocrite and shit, i know i am a master of moaning about the crazy crap my kid's do. on a daily basis, these shenanigans and scams they pull can seem completely crazy. when you have kids, it's a never ending cycle of living a constant circus. if you are raising kids with a partner, you turn into barnum and bailey. you actually have to channel the ringling brothers so you can deal with all of their nonsense. (dancing dogs and all.) however, it seems as fast as the show comes to town...sadly, it's gonna leave. as each of my children grow and change, i celebrate every milestone...but i secretly miss the stuff they left behind. (maybe even a shitty diaper or two?) 

my children will be 2 and 4 years of age in a little more than a month. i have no idea when or how this happened or why it went so fast. they can do fun stuff now, like fight with each other. ella was in the tub last night and stole a toy from her sister. the littler one started yelling. i was downstairs doing dishes and heard butch say, "do you like to hear your sister cry?!" ella replied without missing a beat, "hearing carrie cry is music to my ears." (what the...?!) nothing like a little sibling love to snap you back into reality. (i swear on my left breast she said this.) this is a far cry from her "i will be here for whatever you need, carrie" soliloquy from the backseat of the car on monday. (seriously, ella, what the hell?) having kids is like being on a roller coaster of emotions. sometimes you are up, sometimes you are down...but at the end of the day, you are almost always glad that you got on the ride in the first place. although my uterus has been trying to convince me otherwise, i will not be filling it with a baby anytime soon. my womb will remain with a vacant sign hanging until further notice and i will continue to enjoy the roller coaster ride i'm currently on...with the help of warren and wine, of course. 

in parenthood, you are often you are climbing a hill of anticipation and uncertainty that sometimes feels never ending...and other days you are screaming on the downhill slope with your hands in the air like it's the best day of your life. let's not forget the moments that you feel like jumping off the roller coaster while it's still moving. (cause those happen, too.) with mother's day right around the corner, i am again reminded to enjoy the ride. i've accepted the fact that my house has become a big top and that butch and i have become ring masters. as the daily circus unfolds around me, i try to sit back, sip my wine, and enjoy the show. unfortunately, the final act will be over far too soon and i will be left missing the moments i thought were mundane. moments such as shirtless spaghetti night, that happened just this evening. the show must go on, people...and it's the greatest show on earth. 

waffles

so i was having a dream the other night that i was running in a race. it was on some high school track...and i was running the wrong way. people were elbowing me, yelling obscenities at me, pushing me out of the way, and i just kept running in the wrong direction with a big goofy ass smile on my face. (it was weird.) then i heard a familiar voice yelp, "get up! it's 6:23!!!!! get up!" turns out the familiar voice was my husband's and i was no longer dreaming...both of us overslept. maybe you are the type of person that always oversleeps or maybe you oversleep every once in a while...i can tell you with honesty that i am at the complete other end of the spectrum. i never oversleep. (ever.) that being said, in the eight years that my husband and i have been teachers...we have never overslept. (not once.) let me tell you though, what a god awful feeling that whole shebang is. first of all, you wake up all disoriented because it's, like, not your normal time (or way) to wake up. then, once you get your bearings about you...you have that "oooooohhhhhhhhhshiiiiiiiiitttttt" moment because you know you are going to have to do like triple time to get to work or wherever you have to be. this was my first experience with this in my adult life and i didn't like it one bit. as i shoved my contacts in my eyeballs and my husband got on all fours and shoved his head under the tub faucet (?)...i thought there is NO WAY i'm going to make it on time. (none.)

on a normal day, the alarm goes off at 5:30 and my husband hops out of bed (balls akimbo) and gleefully gallops to get in the shower. i lay there and scratch my ass for approximately 10 more minutes and then roll out of bed like a rape victim. my hair is always all over my head, i'm missing pieces of clothing, sometimes mascara is smeared under my eyes, and the older i get the harder it is to do things like walk, when i first get up. so anyway, i'm no sight to see as i stumble into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. however, yesterday morning butch and i both acted like we did a line of cocaine combined with a shot of red bull before firing ourselves out of bed. when he said, "it's 6:23!!!!!" i did the math and realized i had approximately 7 minutes (seven.) to get myself and both kids out the door if i didn't want to be late. (good one.) anyway, i brushed my teeth, skipped the make up, threw on a dress and went over to get ella. she was laying there awake and said, "oh hi mommy, i pooped!" (ohhhhmyyyyygoooddddd!) so i scooped her out of bed and changed her. i then went to door number 2 to grab thing 2, and she was standing up in the crib staring at me. the whole entire room smelled like shit. (ohhhhmyyyygodddddd!) so i grabbed her and changed her as well. although i have mentioned the simultaneous shits of my children in posts before, it hasn't happened in quite some time. of COURSE it would happen on a day (the only day ever) i overslept. (of course it would.)

as i drove to the sitter, i remembered that we had a buncha big wigs coming to our school to observe teachers and to start the process of renewing our charter. (i work in a charter school.) i don't mind when these people make appearances, mainly because when i am at work i do my job. i can also say that i am good at my job...i am pretty confident about that. therefore, i don't mind if people want to come in my classroom and observe at anytime. (bring it.) however, i didn't really want big wigs walking in my room, just as i sauntered in sans make up (and deodorant) in the early morning after over sleeping for the first time in eight years. due to some small miracle, i made it to work just a few minutes late. (before my student's arrived.) i'm not going to say how fast i was going on the beltway, but if i would've been pulled over i may or may not be behind bars right now. (whoops.) so i got everything set up for the day and my students arrived shortly after that. the thing with teaching is that you can't just hide in a cubicle for part of the morning, sip your coffee, and get acclimated for the day. once the kids arrive, you are on. (and it's on like donkey kong.) whether you are running late or not, you have to act like you have your shit together. if you don't, the kids will smell your uncertainty and take you down. (take you down to china town, people.) i smiled, said good morning to each one of them, and we got started on our first activity for the day.

not only were the big wigs scheduled to arrive yesterday, i also planned to make waffles with my kids that morning. you are probably thinking, "waffles?...what the what?" here's the thing, every week we start new letter and this week it happens to be "W"...so on tuesday (our first day back from spring break) we made a list of words that begin with that letter. one of those words happened to be (you guessed it), "waffles." when one of the children said it, a deep discussion followed about how delicious waffles actually are. they were all nodding in agreeance and i thought to myself, "i should just make them waffles." then i said (out loud), "i have a waffle iron at home, i can bring it in and we can make waffles for snack tomorrow if that's something you would like to do?" hoots. hollers. high fives. in other words..."bring on the waffles, teacher lady." (done.) now here's a little back story about the waffles and it involves my husband. tuesday is a day that i typically get the kids from the sitter. this was also a day that it was pouring down rain. therefore, i texted butch and said, "can you please pick me up waffle mix at the store on your way home?" he said yes. if you are a mom you know that running into the store for just one thing with two kids, especially if it's raining outside is such a pain in the ass. i was thankful he could do it and then called him and said, "i don't care if you get generic (or use a coupon), but PLEASE make sure that you get the mix that you don't have to add milk or eggs to. i don't have a fridge in my classroom." he said, "okay." (famous last words.)

so naturally, later that night when i pulled the mix out of the bag...i realized he got the kind that you have to add not only water...but milk, eggs and oil. (all of that.) seriously, why don't men listen? what is wrong with them? i ran up the steps, box in hand, and said, "what the HELL!? i asked you to get the mix that you only have to add water to!" he looked sheepish and said, "oh. isn't that the one i got?" (no it isn't, warren.) read the fine print there, skippy! actually, i doubt he even turned the box over. he went on, "well it said, "waffle" on the front so i just grabbed it." (oh good.) anyway, i ran out later to get the right box of mix and he chuckled at himself as i walked out the door. (keep chuckling, ahole!) as i pulled the (right) waffle mix out of the bag in front of my students, i had a flashback to his smug smile and cursed his poor listening skills. (men.) once again, the kids in my class knew nothing about the story with the mix, the (crazy) morning i had, or who the big wigs were that walked through our room to observe...they just wanted to learn and later make some waffles. after our mandated work, each one of them helped to add the ingredients and we talked about measurement while we were doing it. some took turns stirring the batter and others passed out plastic forks, knifes, and plates. their excitement was palpable and as i poured the first batch of batter into the iron...they were all giggling. my first waffle was a failure, it got all stuck and stuff. one kid said, "it's okay! just keep trying." (practice what you preach, i guess.) so finally i got it up and running and i was cranking waffles out like aunt jemima herself. it was like educational ihop in my classroom. (teaching win.)

i arrived at school today with my own little chicken in tow for "bring your child to work day." here's the thing, usually this is like the easiest day of the year for me because i always have a bunch of kids absent. however, i've never brought my own kid with me until this year...so that made it a little different. i think it's safe to say that when ella actually goes to kindergarten for real (in a year...what the hell), i'm going to have to be medicated and wear a muzzle. it's going to be hard for me to just "let her go" and trust that the teacher is going to be a good one. i never really understood why parent's got wound up about sending their kids to school for the first time,  but now i get it. moreover, last night while getting ready for bed, she got in a slight altercation with her sister. i reprimanded both of them and then...she swung at me. she didn't make contact, but i assure you if she would have...i would have had a mental malfunction. butch heard me say, "you don't hit mommy!" later that night he said, "if she hits you in front of your students...game over." (game over, indeed.) good thing she kept her swings to herself at school and luckily the whole day went off without a hitch. (sorry to disappoint.)

this week i was reminded of a coupla things. first of all, sometimes being an adult sucks and oversleeping is the ultimate worst. secondly, although men usually have good intentions...they don't listen half the time. (or any of the time.) lastly, although the waffle mix was only $1.67 at the grocery store it made a lasting impression with the little ones that i teach. not only will they never forget the sound that the letter W makes, they learned other things like cooperation, measurement, sharing, manners...and most importantly, they had fun. i hope that ella's kindergarten teacher will take the time to do things that the big wigs may deem "unconventional"...if not, everyone loses. oh, and back to that dream i had the other morning about running a race the wrong way but smiling about it? maybe it was a creepy premonition about how that morning was going to go...or maybe it was a metaphor for my teaching practices? all i know is...i wasn't the only one in the classroom with a goofy smile on my face when i whipped out that waffle iron. after a long week, i'm headed over to fen's tonight to solve world problems with the help of wine. aunt jemima...over and out.

judgement

alright, so i try not to judge other parents and the choices they make for their own children, but i do have a bone to pick with one particular subject...and it was prompted by some events from the past coupla nights. like i said, i don't mind (for example) if mothers want to breastfeed their kids until they are like 5, even if the child has a full set of teeth. (have at it sister friend!) i don't care if you want to make your own baby food, even if i think gerber does a fine job of that. (they have for many, many years.) i feel like you have to do what you think is right for your own kid, because there really is no "right" way to raise a child. it's sort of like survival of the fittest and you do what works for you, because you are the one that has to deal with your own kids on a daily (and nightly) basis. however, i will say after three nights of sharing a bed with my three year old...i will never understand the concept of "co-sleeping" with your kids. i know there are parents out there that choose to share their bed with their children. i'm not talking about parents that randomly have their kids crawl into bed at night. i'm talking they say, "i want my kids to share the bed with me." (sometimes also called the "family bed.") this is something i cannot wrap my brain around. i have no idea how or why people make the choice to do this...and i'm going to explain why in the following paragraph.

first of all, kids (especially toddlers) have no real regard for others. they are selfish creatures who think the world revolves around them. therefore, when they are "sharing" something (like a bed) with you...they just want to be comfortable. (they don't care about your well being.) if comfortable for them is shoving their head in your rib cage and their feet in your husband's man parts...they will do it. if comfortable is pushing you off the pillow so they can use it, they will do it. if comfortable for them is accidentally poking you in the eyeball and shoving their toe in your anus, they will do it. in fact, this is what finally prompted me to get out of bed last night and sleep on the couch. i mean, i'm fun, people...but when i felt ella's toe trying to insert into my anal cavity last night, i got the hell outta there. i shit you not, she was in a dead sleep and was trying to insert a big toe enema in my asshole. (wtf!?) (this was after multiple attempts to make this arrangement work.) i turned upside down on the bed, had my hair ripped out by her hand, got karate chopped in the left breast and throat punched in the esophagus. (this all really happened.) my husband sleeps similar to a corpse, so i have no idea if he really felt anything from her flailing. finally, when i couldn't take anymore during night three of this nonsense...i opted for the sofa instead.

now we only had to do this because we were visiting my parents (to celebrate the rising of jesus from the tomb), and ran out of room at their house. ella didn't want to sleep on a crib mattress on the floor...so we made an exception and she slept with us. don't get me wrong, when my kids are sick and need extra snuggles and shit...i'm not a full blown bed nazi. i allow them to sleep with us if those are the circumstances. when they were super little newborn people as well, they spent a lot of time with me in my bed. however, on a daily basis (otherwise)...you better believe they sleep in their own beds. i read an article one time about co-sleeping and it mentioned that some parents think it's "cruel" to confine a child to a crib or "traumatizing" to isolate them in their own bedroom. (what?) pretty sure both my husband and i were caged in a crib and later made to sleep in our own beds when we were kids. (the horror!) neither of us turned out to be axe murders and i certainly didn't want to serve my mother's head on a silver platter at easter dinner because of this. (in other words, we turned out normal.) again, if you believe in this business...i will try not to judge you, but it's hard for me to wrap my head around this concept. i will also make a bold statement that i would rather saw off my own leg (sans anesthetic) and use it as an oar while boating in the ocean. moreover, that boat could be a kayak and i could be many miles off shore with a school of sharks swimming around my severed limb. i'm not even exaggerating, that's how much i hate it.

the real kick in the taco is when i "woke up" (using that loosely), this morning on the couch, ella came out of the room and said, "mommy! i slept so good last night!" i felt like saying, "do you remember throat punching me and sticking your toe in my ass!? cause that was really disturbing." (i didn't...but it was on the tip of my tongue.) anyway, after three nights of this sleeping arrangement, i feel like a walking zombie. (so out of it.) my motor skills are compromised and i'm having a hard time forming full sentences. as we were packing the car to head back, i was thankful that we got to see lots of friends and family, but really i am just dreaming of routine and sleeping in my own space. about halfway back home, both children simultaneously had a meltdown. it was quick, violent and for no apparent reason. (those are the best kind.) although it was over quickly, i shot butch a look that said, "these are YOUR children." (not mine.) don't you love when you go there? like when your children act up and suddenly you take no responsibility for helping to create them? ella flies off the handle sometimes and he'll say, "she's you. she's acting just like you." (well she's also half you, you ahole.) carrie get's really obnoxious about her food sometimes (like irate) and i'll just turn to him and say, "well she's acting like you again." (like she isn't half mine.) anyway, i snapped dual pictures during the simultaneous meltdowns.

shortly after this, ella was happily singing the ABC song and carrie was clapping along. (kids are so strange.) i know both were just pissed off about having to sit in the car strapped in for so long, and really i don't blame them. (i was pissed off about being in the car on this beautiful day, as well.) so anyway, like i said before...whatever you have to do to sustain yourself with your own children is free of judgement from me. you wanna breast feed until they are five years of age? have at it, nipple queen. you wanna make your own baby food? you go girl, give gerber a run for their money. you wanna co-sleep with your kids? good luck you walking zombie. however, if you would rather use your own severed limb as an oar in the ocean, while surrounded by sharks...i don't think co-sleeping is for you. (just sayin.) hopefully when i lay my children down to bed tonight, i will be able to enjoy a full nights rest sans shots to the left breast or a toddler toe in my ass. (it wasn't pretty.) at the end of the day, all parents are just praying for one thing...that we aren't aren't raising future axe murderers. for now, i am doing the best i can with what i know, and hoping for a positive outcome. remember when referring to parenting, only the strong shall survive. furthermore, all other parents who fail may or may not have their heads served on a silver platter by their children at a holiday dinner. fingers crossed that one day it isn't mine.