phases

it's been about a week and i think i'm ready to discuss last weekend's events. (i think.) let me start by saying last saturday at 10am i was one bloody mary deep, floating around a lake in a kayak (in my pajamas, mind you) with a beer between my legs...this saturday at 10am i was at a pumpkin patch slash petting zoo birthday party with my two kids. i was feeding a goat. so you see, sometimes parenting is about perspective. would i rather be paddling around a (quiet) lake in the early morning hours...rather than smelling goat shit? sure. however, watching my two children have fun makes the goat shit option almost more appealing. (almost.) moreover, when you do actually get a break from the madness...you go through a coupla phases. (at least i do.) the first phase is what i call the freedom phase. it happens when you actually drive away towards your destination and your children are safely clothed in the care of someone else. you have a moment (at least butch and i did) of acting like mel gibson in braveheart. we rolled down the windows of the car, turned the music up and i swear on the tip of both of our tongues was, "they can take our lives, but they'll never take...OUR FREEDOM!!!" ok, so it's not that dramatic, but almost. when you don't have to provide 24 hour care (for the whole weekend) for the people you call your offspring...it's pretty awesome. (at first.) my dad was in charge of the kids when we left and they were both sleeping. he asked me what the chances were of carrie waking up with shit in her pants. (i told him pretty high.) he told me he was going to hose her down if that happened. i knew that wasn't true, but i would be lying if i said i wasn't praying for poop. (please!)

after a friday night of campfires and fun filled events, all participants of chet's place weekend extravaganza woke up ready to indulge in the hair of the dog the next day. (hence, the bloody mary's aforementioned.) there were 7 long time friends (i'm talking, since kindergarten some of them), and 3 of their significant others. (10 assholes, total.) i often wonder how some of us have remained friends for so long, but as one of my compadre's puts it...no one else can stand us. (true.) i am lucky to have married "one of the group," because lord knows i would hold my breath if i had to bring a person of interest into the melee. at one point one of these 'outsiders' turned to me and said (over a game of shuffleboard, beers in hand), "so is this what we are going to do all weekend?!" well...if you are referring to drinking, laughing, games and nonsense...yes. (sorry to disappoint.) growing up in a small town, we are all no stranger to simply enjoying each other's company. give us a campfire, a case of beer and each other...and we are good to go. however, if you happen to throw in a rocking chair...the boys will perform stunts late night, such as sitting (and rocking) in the chair over a live fire. (impressive.) the next cabin over was another group of friends, that were exactly like us...but about 20 years older. (fun, fun people.) they joined us for most of our "activities." however, after one night of mayhem, i moved into phase two of operation no kids for the weekend. phase two includes me actually starting to miss my children. when i woke up that morning my inner mel gibson was no longer yelling, i rolled over and said to butch, "i kinda miss them." he said, "i'm sorry, but i can't share that sentiment just yet." (ok then.)

saturday included throwing our group out into the general population. by general population i mean attending an event called "frontier days" at a local bar. this bar was so far out of the way that we all just hopped in the back of a pickup truck and took several dirt roads to get there. (yeehaw.) when we arrived, it felt like we went back in time a few (hundred) years. there were bands, flags, and hillbillies a plenty. (it was glorious.) the beer was cheap, the bands were bangin', and the ambiance was beautiful. now when we arrived, please keep in mind that we had been boozin' since the early morning bloody mary's. most of us were dressed in flannel and boots...except for my husband who thought a penn state jersey was much more appropriate. let's just say he really "stood out"...people started referring to him as the "penn state guy" and when he started busting (several) moves on the dancefloor (grass), he drew some (a lot of) attention. i'm not sure where some of these moves came from, as i have known him since 6th grade (and attended several dances with him) and have never seen them. my guess is the beer and lake breeze had a lot to do with it, but he looked like a drunk puppet...with god pulling the strings. his arms and legs were flailing about in an unnatural fashion and he seemed to have no control over his extremities. people thought this was hilarious. (as did i.) i guess he can check "dancing like a drunk puppet to country music" off of his bucket list. (score!)

chet's place.

right before we all climbed back in the pickup truck to come back to the cabin, butch spotted a mechanical bull nearby. (oh boy.) the guy was just setting up and warren wandered over and asked him for a ride. the operator had a waiver he had to sign. now remember, motor skills were compromised at this point. one of our group members was nearby and witnessed him grab the waiver, put a large check mark over the fine print and then "sign" (using that loosely) his name. on the line where he was supposed to put the date, he wrote..."TODAY." then turned and laughed like a hyena. pretty sure if he broke his back or something on that ride, the waiver would not hold up in court. that's probably a good thing, as he was in no shape to be riding a goddamn bull. (mechanical or otherwise) i was not witness to the ride, but i'm sure it was shortlived and painful to watch. he also threw his phone in the grass nearby in an attempt to not break it. (more about that later.) as most of us waited in the back of the pickup, we wondered what the hell was taking the rest of the group so long. i had no idea that my husband choosing to ride a mechanical bull was holding everyone up. however, when he hopped into the truck and told us the story...i was not surprised in the least. truth be told, none of us really remember the ride back to the cabin down that long dirt road. at that point, we were feeling no pain. i do remember, however, that i was moving into phase three of operation no kids for the weekend. phase three is where your heart starts to ache and shitty diapers don't seem so bad. (i call this the wtf phase.)

sunday morning i woke up and i shit you not, i felt like i had been through a war. instead of fighting with weapons, i was under an attack with alcohol. now i know, it is no secret that i enjoy a cocktail or five every now and again. i happen to enjoy a glass (bottle) of wine during girls night with fen or a bunch of beers accompanied by a wings and a football game. i mean, i'm no stranger to the sauce. i will say, though...i am not good as i once was. (thank you, toby keith.) when i tell you that my internal organs (namely my liver and kidneys) were screaming that morning, i am being serious. (it was not good.) warren was complaining of his whole body hurting (bull riding was a bad idea), and also mentioned that he may have "lost" his phone. phase four was setting in and i just wanted to get the hell home to my kids. we left pretty early in the morning and the ride back to reality was daunting. my parents mentioned via phone that they had purchased tickets to a fall festival at a local tree farm. since we weren't around all weekend, we felt that we should go. as fen put it, "your parents are sadists! why would they get those tickets knowing you are nursing a major hangover?!" (i don't know.) so before packing up the car to head back to our home state...we had to deal with slides, train rides, and a ball pit. i was happy to be back with my kids, but organ failure was eminent and i really didn't want to die. moreover, the three hour car ride that followed is three hours of my life i would like back. both kids wanted to punish us for leaving them for the weekend (naturally), so neither of them slept. they took turns crying, laughing, yelling, and fighting. (fun!) in the middle of all this, butch turned to me and said, "....and you missed them." (i did!)

anyway, i guess the moral of the story is this (and always boils down to this): the experience of parenting is a far cry from what i thought it would be. i believe that when you have your first child, you lose a part of yourself, but as your children grow and become more independent you slowly get that part of yourself back. (like pieces of a puzzle coming back together.) some of those pieces were resurrected at chet's place, because breaks from parenting madness are very necessary. however, hightailing it to the woods for a weekend bender more than once a year is not recommended ever. (my organs agree.) kids can have you quoting braveheart...and make your heart ache all in one weekend. parenting is not for the fainthearted. this all being said, i very much prefer floating on a quiet pond with a beverage between my legs rather than feeding a goat on a saturday morning. however, hearing ella and carrie laugh their heads off as the smelly creature licked their hands was pretty awesome. pretty sure the fact that parenting can almost make you prefer farm animals to lazy mornings kayaking around a lake is pretty powerful stuff. although i still could've done without the smell of goat shit, because that's not good for anyone involved.

jumanji

let me start by saying that there are very few things (thus far) that my husband and i disagree on when it comes to parenting. we pretty much have the same philosophy when it comes to child rearing, which makes things pretty easy when it comes to our kids. i will say, though, if there are any arguments...that i win most battles in regards to these topics. i think he kinda trusts my judgement when it comes to children, mostly because a. i have been around kids my whole life and b. i teach young children everyday. anyways, i want to tell you about a recent disagreement that just happened this past week. most nights our routine goes as follows: i start making dinner around 4pm, we eat around 5pm, kids get a bath around 6pm (which butch does while i clean up dinner), they go to bed around 7:30pm. if you dropped by our house around these times, this is pretty basically what you would see most nights. (minus a few gliches here and there.)  monday was no different...except it was. when i came downstairs after folding some laundry, the kids were watching a bedtime show. however, when i walked into the living room it wasn't caillou, curious george, or one of the other many favorites that are played each evening. when i walked in the room, robin williams (may he rest in peace) was dancing across the screen in jungle garb. i realized quickly that the movie that was on was...jumanji.

the kids were engulfed in it and i just kinda gave butch a look like, "wtf?!" he shrugged his shoulders and said, "i DVR'd it a while ago for them. i think they like it." now i know jumanji is only rated PG. according to my search on the goog it states this: "PG stands for parental guidance. this means a film is suitable for general viewing, but some scenes may be unsuitable for young children. a PG film should not unsettle a child aged around eight or older. parents should consider whether the content may upset younger children." ok, with that in mind...there were some scary scenes happening, but i will say i was kinda relieved to not see that bald whiny bastard caillou on the screen. (i hate that kid.) actually, i loved the movie jumanji and we recently introduced the goonies to our kids with no adverse affects on them...so i snuggled in on the couch and we watched. carrie was in between my legs trying recreate the birth scene, and ella was gently wrapped around my neck. (like a noose.) first there were the crazy mosquitoes that attack the characters in the car. ella yelped, "woah! those 'SKITOS are huge. glad we don't have them in our backyard!" carrie pointed and grunted. then came the over sized spiders. ella squawked, "oh! the 'BITERS are huge, too!" (i will NEVER correct ella on the proper pronunciation of mosquitos or spiders...because it's too cute.) carrie was pointing, but didn't seem too scared. they were also laughing at parts and enjoying others...so we continued watching. i looked over at butch and said, "i really hope they don't have any "b-a-d d-r-e-a-m-s" (i spelled it.) because of this. he looked up from the laptop, waved his hand and said, "oh, they won't." (famous last words.)

when we finished up the movie and we went upstairs for teeth brushing and bedtime stories, i was really hoping he was right. we have been on one hell of a streak with nighttime sleep habits. i mean, minus the week that i went back to work they have been sleeping straight through. it's nice to feel like a normal human and not a zombie. when people tell you that you will never sleep the same way again after you have a kid, BELIEVE THEM. (i promise they are not bullshitting you.) we read goodnight moon for the umpteenth time and they both laid down without issues. i read a few chapters in my book and then laid down myself. i would say at approximately 2:43am, i was awoken out of a very deep sleep by what i can only describe as whimpering. i actually thought it was the dog at first. i listened for a little bit and wondered why the one next to me NEVER hears anything at all during the night. i swear a goddamn bulldozer could back in the bedroom and he'd still be rolling over and scratching his balls like nothing happened. i wake up for a whimper and he wakes up for...nothing. i sat up as the whimper turned into a cry and then i had to decipher who was making the noise. i surely didn't want to go into the wrong room and wake the other one up, so i waited. i was half asleep (and salty), but i made my way across the hall. i realized it was ella that was up, and now she was saying something...(over and over) between cries.

i tiptoed into her room, careful not to step on any lego or lincoln log bombs. (those sons of bitches HURT.) i made it to her bed unscathed and she was pulling at her ears. she said slash cried (and i quote), "the BUGS are crawling INTO my EARS!!" (OH MY GOD.) i had a moment. now remember...i was functioning with no contacts, one eye open, and was still half asleep. i whisper gasped, "WHAT!?" she repeated a little louder, "the BUGS ARE CRAWLING into my EARS!!" (SWEET MOTHER OF CHRIST!) i reached down and started running my hands on the side of her head, fully expecting to find some sort of critter. my heart started pounding and i started sweating, because i went from 0-60 and thought we would have to take her to the ER...because bugs were going to eat her brain. (i know, i'm nuts. it was the middle of the night.) i flipped on the light and said, "ELLA! i don't see any bugs!" she said (still crying), "well they are there!!" i went on, "do you have an earache??" (surely that had to be it?) she replied, "no. it's the bugs, mommy!" i was really starting to wig out, when i had a thought. certainly she had to be having a b-a-d d-r-e-a-m. (GODDAMN JUMANJI!) it was in this moment of realization that i wanted to run back over to our bedroom to my sleeping husband and double fist pound each of his testicles...i might also add cock shot for good measure. i know i agreed to the PG movie, but it was his idea in the first place...so surely it was solely his fault. (shut up.) i laid ella back down, assured her there were no 'skitos or 'biters climbing into her ears and thank god she went back to sleep.

fast forward to the moment where i was just drifting back into dreamland...and i heard more cries. this time it was carrie. (CRIPES!) sleeping beauty lay motionless next to me (of course) and did not bat one eyelash in the commotion. i flew out of bed this time and went over to my 2 year old's room. she is still in a crib, but was standing up when i entered. i said, "what's wrong?" she just cried...and then said..."juice." i shit you not, when she started the first syllable of the word, "ju..." i thought she was going to say "jumanji." i will also add that if she had said, "jumanji" and not "juice" my husbands man parts would be out of order at this very moment...because i would've physically assaulted him. because carrie isn't really talking much, i'm not sure if she just woke up thirsty for "juice." or had a b-a-d jumanji dream. either way, she was awake in the middle of the night for the first time in forever. (i blamed butch.) when i finally got her back to sleep it was approximately 4:23am. therefore, i had 67 more minutes to sleep before the alarm went off for the day. (super!) somehow, i drifted off and woke up like a spitting cobra at 5:30am. (venomous.) warren was in the shower and i walked into the bathroom. he caught one glimpse of me as he was coming out of the shower and said, "ummm...were they up last night? you look awful." here's a little tip to the men of the world, if you aren't sure whether your children were up in the middle of the night and your wife looks like hell....DON'T ASK. (just don't.) i just glared at him and said, "guess who had BAD. DREAMS?!...BOTH. of. them!!" (i wasn't sure about carrie, but wanted to make a point.)

he started laughing. laughing loudly. i was not laughing and the thought of spending the day with a bunch of fresh out of the summer kindergartners on no sleep. if i was going to survive i needed large amounts of coffee and was hoping i could push aside my spitting cobra routine. he laughed himself right out of the bathroom as i washed my face and applied makeup to the luggage under my eyes. (bags. huge ones.) we usually don't talk much in the morning, but as we made breakfast...the silence was kinda deafening. i needed someone other than myself to blame for the PG movie debacle, and he was the easiest target. so i didn't talk to him. at all. actually, had i tried to talk...making sentences at that moment might have been a struggle...so i said nothing. right before he was getting ready to leave my husband snuck up behind me and said something in a loud whisper, right into my left ear. it was (and i quote), "JUMANJI." i didn't crack at my cobra act, but he continued to whisper it in a super annoying voice from the kitchen, through the dining room, and out the front door..."JUMANJI, JUMANJI, JUMANJI..." (he thought he was really funny.) so i guess i learned my lesson when it comes to "content that may not be suitable for young children." or maybe it was just some random coincidence that ella would have a dream about bugs going into her brain and carrie would wake up the same night thirsty for some juice. (i don't know.) i do know, though, that i wish i had some real live oversized 'skitos or 'biters to put in our bed one night as a little surprise. quite certain they would actually startle my husband awake...who would be screaming and scratching much more than his ballsack in that moment. (payback.) hey, a girl can dream...and do believe that wouldn't be a bad one.

hide

so i have written a shit ton of posts about poop. (pardon my pun.) when you have little people running around your house, though, a bowel movement isn't just a bodily function anymore...it's an event. for the past 4 years, i've been up to my elbows in crap. my four year old was recently potty trained, but i still can't escape the wiping aspect. one time i let her "do it herself" and it looked like she had a crime scene in her underpants when she got undressed for bathtime that night. (no thanks.) it's either clean it up now, or clean it up later. (you can't win.) recently, my two year old has come into what i call the, "hide and go shit my pants" part of toddlerhood. it comes when kids realize what they are doing isn't exactly right and want privacy, but aren't quite ready to ride the porcelain throne. usually if it gets quiet around the house, i will look around for carrie and find her one of the many places her sister used to hide in order to do a number two. these places include (but are not limited to), the princess tent, behind the recliner, in a walk in closet upstairs, under her crib, and my most recent discovery was made while i was making dinner. i yelled upstairs to ella, "have you seen your sister!?" she yelled down in a sing songy voice, "noooo mommmmeee!!!" so i called for carrie again and became a little concerned when i didn't see her materialize before my eyes. imagine my surprise when i went into the pantry for a can of black beans and saw her in there looking very much caught. my pantry now doubles as a porta potty. (just perfect.)

pantry poop.

i also love how ella now needs to announce throughout the house that she is dropping a deuce. i often hear, "i'mmmmmm poooopppinnnggg!!!" being sung slash said out of the bathroom. yesterday i caught carrie in the bathroom with ella...and they were taking simultaneous shits. (sweet jesus.) i feel at this point in the game i am a connoisseur of crap. wanna know what really gets my goat? when i walk into the bathroom for something when ella is in there and she'll say (with a dead straight face), "i want some privacy." exxxccuuusssee me!? privacy! ha! i haven't had that since you were born little lady. you used to stare at me showering from your bouncy seat because i couldn't leave you alone for 2 minutes. i actually can't even be in the bathroom without you or your sister knocking on the damn door! you want privacy!? me too. ok...so i didn't say all that, i just walked out and shut the door...but i really, really wanted to. i will say it's funny, though, to see your kid sitting on the toilet. it's almost as if you potty trained your cat. sometimes in the morning if she is going to the bathroom and the door is open to our bedroom, i get startled to see her sitting here. like she's not supposed to be able to do that herself or something. (maybe that's just me.) anyways, i actually wouldn't be that surprised if i saw the cat sitting there...stranger things have happened in my world. carrie is like a crime scene investigator when ella is in bathroom. she walks around taking in all the details...and waiting to see if her sister is going to give her the grand privilege of flushing. this is a big deal in my house...the flushing that is. sometimes i feel like i'm on a game show called, "who gets to flush the feces!?" because they make such a big deal about it.

as a mother of two young ones, you already know that i have a doctorate in dirty diapers. (as documented by this post.) pretty sure i could change one with one eye closed and one arm behind my back. (pretty sure i have.) however, i often wonder if this is going to be just another one of those things that i miss. kids fly through stages so fast and they leave each one a little more independent. if i am suddenly missing shitty diapers one day though...someone please snap me out of it. i recently watched a baby that was not mine. although he (thankfully) didn't take a crap while he was in my care, i had flashbacks of when my two ladies were that little. as i held him, it was actually really hard to remember a time when they were so needy. now that they are more independent, it feels like sooooo long ago that they were drinking out of a bottle, unable to sit up unattended...crying for no apparent reason. (really though, it was just a coupla years ago.) i can't say that i "miss" those stages...but i do wonder why they flew by so fast. when you are in them, it feels like a lifetime is going by each day and then you blink and they are hiding behind the lazy boy and crapping their pants.

lazy boy poop.

i know soon that carrie will graduate from the hide and go shit my pants part of toddlerhood and be in pull ups and pooping on the potty. i also know i still have few more years of wiping asses that are not my own, i've accepted this as just another thing they don't tell you in the parenting books. ("i'm donnnnneeee!" -kids from the bathroom) the princess tent and pantry will soon not double as porta potties, either. there are a lot of things about parenting that are awesome and lots of things about it that are shitty. (like the poop.) i often explain it to people as the best and worst thing we have ever done. (becoming parents that is.) i may complain, but i never forget that fact that i have happy, healthy children. (bowel movements and all.) moreover, i hope to share this post someday with carrie's future prom date...let's just call it a poop payback. hopefully he will find it as hilarious as i do...and i pray (after being slightly embarrassed) she has enough sense to laugh as well, because one thing i've learned from my children is to not take yourself so seriously. so i strive on in the parenting plight and hold my head high. (pinching my nose with one hand.) i tackle each debacle head on and plan to persevere, even though sometimes i want to hide from the little people in my house in the princess tent...with a glass of wine and a bowl of popcorn. at least one would hope i wouldn't be pooping my own pants in there, because then i'm pretty sure we would have a real problem.

princess tent poop.

weight

so this one was sauntering around the house last night in her pajamas eating a freeze pop...while wearing a winter hat. (not to mention the one princess heel.) as summer comes to a close and a new school year begins, i always find that the first couple of weeks are the hardest. (hear me out.) my kids have to fall back into a new routine and they tend to turn it up a couple notches in the hours that they are awake in our presence. (they are making us nuts.) it's like they realize we aren't spending every hour together, so they want to make sure that the time they do have with us is well spent. (wool hat and all.) despite their added nonsense this week, this particular post is not just about them. this post has mainly to do with the pounds i added...to my ass this summer. i have to be the only person on the planet who GAINS 10+ pounds in the summertime. (12, to be exact.) seriously, who does that? (apparently i do.) i actually didn't realize it was a problem until i went to my hometown this past weekend and packed a pair of pants. this particular pair of jeans hadn't been worn since the spring, so you can imagine my surprise when i put them on and i looked exactly like a standing 5 foot stuffed sausage. (stop laughing.) my two stocky legs resembled twin bratwurst and the zipper was screamin' when i attempted to button them. i said a few hail mary's and after a glance in the mirror decided to go ahead and wear a pair of (stretched out) shorts i had on earlier. then i put on a black shirt and hoped for the best. finally, i texted fen some obscenities about my obesity, but she assured me i was just fine. (what are best friends for?)

now listen, as i state this...it's no mystery as to why i gained weight. (even though it's not winter.) i was still running periodically, but i definitely fell off the paleo wagon. when i tell you i fell off the paleo wagon, i mean i fell off with a meatball sub in one hand and a margarita in the other. also, i was very careful not to drop them as i went down, because they were just so delicious. (being honest here.) doesn't matter how much you run, if you are eating whatever you want and drinking your body weight in boxed wine and beer every week...you will gain weight.  unless you are one of those freaks of nature who can "eat slash drink whatever you want" and "never gain weight." (if that is you stop reading right now and go order a pizza for yourself and eat it all, that's what i would do if i were you.) so anyway, when you don't really have a schedule in the summer, it's easy to let loose. (teacher problems.) i would say that the past three weeks were pretty much spent eating whatever i wanted and getting wound up. my inlaws came for a visit, i went to the beach with my family, and then last week i just decided to act like it was woodstock. so after i had the sausage link leg scare in my hometown, i wasn't that shocked. i wasn't happy about my revelation, but i knew there was a reason for it. i actually hadn't stepped on the scale all summer, so when i did on monday my fears were realized. twelve pounds to the good in two months? (really.)

so here's the thing, i'm brutally honest about most things...my weight included. i've pretty much been a bunch of different sizes, but i know for a fact that i felt much better previous to my end of summer blow out. butch also decided to hop on the scale to see what he weighed. a few posts ago i told you that he tipped the scales at 200 and was whining about it. well when 208 showed up in the numbers he just about lost his shit. he didn't go out and buy highlighter colored running shoes this time, but he did tell me he was going to start eating better and not drink so much beer. i shook my head knowing that this probably wouldn't last, but i wanted to be supportive. when i made zucchini stuffed with ground turkey last night, i also made a side of spaghetti for him thinking that he would whack it back like a sumo wrestler. to my surprise, he ate the zucchini first and said, "i'm gonna see if this makes me full and then probably pass on the spaghetti." (well done!) however, when dinner was over and he went up to give the kids a bath...i got busy doing the dishes. i noticed as i got started that there was a container of mayo in the sink. it had the lid on it and everything...and it was still cold. i yelled up the steps, "yo! why is there a thing of mayo in the sink!?" he paused for about 3 minutes and then yelled down, "oh yeah...i forgot to tell you i had a little sandwich when i got home from work!" (whhhaatttt?!) i got home maybe 10 minutes after him with the girls, so he must've made a speed sandwich and stuffed it in. he thought he was going to get away with it, but in his haste put the mayo in the sink. needless to say, i laughed my head off downstairs. (secret sandwiches? yes.)

as a new school year begins, i am determined to plow through these extra pounds i've put on. in other words, put down the meatball sub and pull myself back up on the paleo wagon. i mean, i may still have a margarita every now and then in moderation...but acting like it's my 21st birthday every day is no longer an option. not only has my husband joined me in my plight, so has my best friend fen. she let me know on monday that she was wearing a skirt to work and it was so tight it resembled saran wrap. she also stated that it feels lately like she has shrunk all of her clothes. maybe that's what happened to my jeans as well? (good one.) so we have been swapping recipes and encouraging each other to make better choices through email and such. (misery loves company.) we are still going to get together for girls night once a week, but hopefully not eat a bag of chips and slug back a box of wine to wash it down. (will power.) not sure where warren is going from here, though...i mean, maybe he will work to do better, but i don't think having secret sandwiches is a solution. (just sayin.) the last time i really changed my cooking and eating habits drastically, i also tried to keep him happy. however, despite my efforts, it led him to be hungry (his words) most of the time, so he would stop for secret hamburgers on the way home from work...and then hide the wrappers. (this really happened.) all i know is i am definitely ready to make a conscience effort to be more healthy. i have felt like a heap of shit lately and hope to remedy this with more running and better food. hopefully the two little monkey wrenches i live with fall into a back to school routine sooner rather than later. if not, i may be the one eating a freeze pop, wearing a winter hat and one heel...right before they carry me off to the insane asylum in my plus size pajamas.

jiffylube

so i had to go to the lady part doctor yesterday to get the plumbing checked out. i don't know if  guys know how lucky they are that they don't have to do this annually, but they are. (super lucky.) i mean, it does get easier after the many years (and after 2 kids) letting other people examine your stuff...but it never is something that is fun. when i walked into the waiting room, i had flashbacks of being pregnant and spending so much time in that office. (like 234 visits.) no bullshit, it kinda gave me the heebee jeebees. there was a sea of pregnant people waddling around me and i remembered those days like it just happened...not like it was 2 years ago since i was waddling along with them. i happened to be around a lot of babies this summer and my uterus got very twitchy around each and everyone of them. whispering sweet nothings from down below...asking me to have another baby. (i politely told it to be quiet.) however, seeing a bunch of pregnant people in one place made my uterus want to go play hide and seek...and never be found. it wasn't whispering anything but "get the hell out of here!" don't get me wrong...i didn't hate being pregnant, but there isn't anything glamorous about it. you are housing a goddamn human being. your body does weird stuff, you are uncomfortable...and not to mention the fact that you are huge! i sometimes felt like i was a planet orbiting the sun. (a pregnant planet.)

anyway, when i told my husband i had the appointment he looked over at me from watching his show and said, "where is it again?" i said, "the lady doctor office? the one that you were at? at least 14 times? that one!?" he said, "well i didn't know if you switched doctors or something...i don't know." he went back to watching bait car and i went about my business of doing dishes. he then leaned over in the lazy boy and yelled, "so you are going to get your oil changed, huh?!" this is what he calls a gyno appointment..."getting my oil changed." i replied, "yes, warren...i'm getting my oil changed and there is a dipstick and all." (dear god.) he chuckled. so anyway, there i was in the waiting room with a sea of soon to be mothers...and one dude. i always feel bad for the guys in these situations, because it has to be anything but comfortable for them. even if they are "secure in their manhood" or whatever, it's not any guy's choice place to be. football game? yes. local tavern? yes. in a waiting room full of women who are loaded with hormones and ready to fire humans out of their lady parts? no. this guy looked like he was on edge and every time the receptionist called some one's name he jumped a little bit. i wish i would've known his name...i would've yelled it just to see what would happen. (he'd probably shit his pants.) anyway, something has shifted in me now that i am a mom. i don't mind waiting in a waiting room anymore. i actually find it enjoyable! i mean, i'm alone, it's quiet, i can catch up on what the latest celebs are doing in free magazines. it's great! when the nurse called my name i was a little disappointed. i wanted to sit there a little longer and enjoy some "me" time. (motherhood makes waiting rooms fun...who knew?)

so the nurse squawked my name and then loudly asks in front of everyone if i could please go to the bathroom and deposit a urine sample. i think the guy crawled out of his skin...the pregnant people didn't bat an eyelash, nor did i. pee in a cup? piece of freakin cake, people. afterwards you have the joy of standing on a scale, getting your blood pressure taken, 43 questions and all that happy horse shit. you start to feel like a machine, rather than a human. (like a car getting service done. maybe butch was onto something with his oil change comment.) when they actually take you back to the vagina inspecting room, it's a little frightening. the chair looks like something out of a medieval torture chamber and there are enough tools laying around to scare the fleas off a mutt. the nurse then tells you to get naked and put on a robe. however, she tells you to put the opening in the front rather than the back, so you aren't sure whether to tie up the strings or let them hang. (i always just wrap it around me and hope for the best.) this visit i had a doctor i've never seen at the practice. turns out she was new. this girl was blonde, perky, and pretty much around my age. i felt like having a beer with her, rather than her checking out what was under my hood. we made normal pleasantries and then she asked me the standard questions that go along with these visits. stuff that would make a guy crawl under a rock and die. i won't go into full detail, but sometimes i had to bite my inner cheek to keep from laughing at some of the shit she was asking me. when the conversation turned to the type of lube i use...i let some laughter escape outta the gates. (i couldn't help it.) at this point you are still feeling uncomfortable on the inside, but the worst is yet to come.

i can't think of a position more exposing and scary than in that chair. once you saddle up, the doctor gets real close to your lady garden and starts poking around down there like it's a science project gone bad. i always hold my breath and wait for it to be over, but like i said it has gotten easier to go to the gyno after having two kids. after giving birth twice, you've had so many people staring down there that it's like second nature. (no big deal.) i remember my mom telling me that one of her jokester friends put a "mr. yuck" sticker down there for the doctor to find. i'm not that ballsy, but i do think it's pretty funny. after all this is said and done, i always feel relieved. you sit there awkwardly in your gown on that godforsaken chair and the doctor continues to make small talk and ask more questions. afterwards, i walked back out into the waiting room to leave and that poor guy was still sitting there pretending to read a magazine, but looking like he'd just seen a ghost. (i almost screamed BOO! in his direction.) i walked out into the parking garage glad that it was over. before i went back my house and the mayhem of motherhood, i texted my husband to let him know i was on my way home and said something like, "on my way...it was really fast!" he wrote back, "jiffylube." (i died laughing.) within minutes of walking in the door, i was wiping goop off of my two year old's hands and my four year old was simultaneously yelling to tell me she just pooped and needed her tush wiped in the bathroom. (see why i liked the waiting room?) until next year and another visit to the lady part garage. godspeed to my women friends who have to endure the same nonsense. to you men who watch us go through it,  but don't have to do it? you suck. moreover, although i initially felt bad for the guy in the waiting room...it was fun to watch him squirm. whatta sissy.

moments

so if you are the parent of more than one child, you may have noticed something that i call the "pain in the ass phenomenon." as in, your children take turns different moments of the day (or different days altogether) being a pain the ass. it's almost as if one taps out and tags the other one...in preparation of monkey wrenching your world. however, the days (or moments) that they are both acting awesome...you think about having another one. (kid, that is.) the days (or moments) that they are both acting like a pain in the ass...you think about adopting them out to a less fortunate soul. (it's just how it goes.) for instance, last weekend i had to take a trip solo from one state to another and i only had my 2 year old in tow. i turned on the car dvd player i purchased at walmart (i wasn't wearing slippers) and drove off into the sunset thinking i wasn't going to hear a peep out of her. (yeah RIGHT!) she was moaning and asking for drinks and snacks and shit the whole time from the backseat. then, about 30 minutes away from our destination she fell asleep. (nice timing.) then this weekend, we got in the car for another state to state jaunt and she immediately fell asleep...but her sister decided it was her time to shine. she harassed me from the backseat for the whole 3 hours asking, "are we there yet?"..."can i have a snack?"..."is that a cornfield?"..."what is that truck doing?"..."are we there yet?" (repeat 23x)  i was about to lose my shit and when we finally made it to the bay bridge we got stuck in traffic. the little one decided to wake up and shit her pants so that the aroma could engulf us for the last 10 miles. between the 237 questions and the crap...i almost put it in park and swan dived to freedom with the fish. (for real.)

if you haven't experienced the pain in the ass phenomenon...pretty sure you aren't a parent. my uncle always said that children are the best thing in the world...but they are an incredible pain in the ass. (i have found this to be true.) while on vacation, you see lots of other people that are part of your world. (the parenting world.) you know their struggles and you feel their pain...and quite honestly, it makes you feel better about your life. i saw one dad chasing his kid around trying to apply sunscreen and i thought, "yep, just did that upstairs in the condo." another mom on the elevator had to go back up 3 flights with her 3 kids...cause she forgot something and i thought, "i've ridden this elevator so much for that reason this week that my pointer finger hurts from pushing those goddamn buttons, lady." i mean it happened over and over, me watching parents that is...and i was able to relate to all of the nonsense they had going on. again, it made me feel better about my two toddler ass pains....and feel better about being a parent. moreover, my kids for so long were always going through different phases, but now the two year old is going through a mimicking phase and does everything the four year old does...so it's like i have twins. ella crosses her arms in protest, so does carrie. ella screams, carrie screams. ella runs into a wall and smashes her face, so does carrie. (it's so dumb.) carrie still isn't speaking in sentences, but she knows the words that get her what she wants. those words being yes and...NO. (she knows "NO" really well.) she's really good at using nonverbal cues as well. (exhibit A below.)

i was out on the balcony (during vacation) and turned to see an epic battle going on...over bubble wands. one minute they were playing nicely and the next minute i thought ella was going impale carrie in the jugular with the circular stick. carrie was screaming NOOOOOO and i said, "stop! why are you fighting over those...you each have one?!" ella turned and said very matter of factly, "the orange one works better." now let me explain...these were the EXACT same wand, except one was yellow and one was orange. originally carrie was using the orange one, but ella decided that one "worked better" and wanted it. i yelped, "it's the exact same wand, ella! the exact same one..it's just a different color!" she shook her head and said, "nope. it works better...i know it does." (wtf?) i walked inside to find my dad making sandwiches. i said, "this is a real struggle right now...fighting over the exact same wand, because one "works" better." all he could do was laugh. i've noticed that my parents laugh about a lot of the "struggles" that they observe me now going through with my toddlers. mainly, my guess is they are laughing because they aren't going through it themselves...but can sit back and enjoy the show. (just a hunch.) later on that day, there was a woman walking along the landing behind us on the way to dinner. i politely told her she could "go around" cause my children wanted to walk "themselves" and we all turn into a herd of turtles. she smiled and said, "i'm fine. i have four girls myself...sometimes it's fun to watch the world through their eyes." i asked her how old her kids were, "she said i can't even believe this, but my youngest is 21 and my oldest is 30. when they are little like yours, you never think you are going to get out of that phase...then suddenly you blink and they aren't little anymore. it goes too fast."

i shook my head and told her that everyone and their brother has been telling me this for a while now. i try to savor every moment, but when you are explaining to children why one bubble wand is not superior to another bubble wand...it's hard. when you are chasing a two year old around the condo with sunscreen and she is acting like it's napalm...it's hard. when one kid is asking for a snack from the backseat for the umpteenth time and the other one is crapping her pants...it's hard. savoring these little moments is hard. being a parent is hard. however, i think that at the end of the day...all parents just want to know that they are not alone in this struggle. they want to know others can relate. they want to know they they aren't the only person that forgot something in the condo and have to ride back up for the 23rd time that day. they want compassion and understanding from other people going through the same things...at least that's how i feel. i only have one more week of summer left as my summer stay at home mom gig comes to a close. my summer was filled with great (and not so great) moments. i am thankful that i have had this time to spend with my children, but good golly miss molly it wasn't easy. as i head back into the classroom to help raise and teach other people's children, i send my kids back to the sitter to elicit the same help from her. (it takes a village.) i know my toddler tag team will continue to take turns being a pain in the ass, but as the lady on the landing said, "it goes too fast." (correct.) so if you are ever thinking of doing a swan dive off of the bay bridge, just try to remember that this too shall pass. there are a whole hell of a lot of people going through the same struggles and trying to survive. at the end of the day, we are all in this together. one pain in the ass moment at a time. you are not alone.

summer

so it feels like it's been forever since i've written about anything and truth be told, my brain really does get a bit mushy in the summer. mushy as in...making complete sentences and basic skills (like writing) fall by the wayside. this being said, that doesn't mean that a shit ton of funny stuff hasn't happened all around me. it just means i didn't have the mental capacity to sit down before now and write about it. there have been a few highlights from the past few weeks that i would like to share...and they are as follows:

first of all, guess who grew these fine specimens in her own home garden? (not this girl.) you'd never guess that it was...fen! (farmer fen?) i went over for girls night a coupla weeks ago and these beauties were displayed on her kitchen counter. well, they weren't displayed in this fashion, but really i'm a 15 year old...so i put them in a cock and ball arrangement and snapped a picture. (of course.) look at the size of that zucchini, people! i said, "um, are you going for the guinness book of world records or what?!" she laughed and said no while sipping her wine. holy green thumb, fen! (well done.) meanwhile at our ranch, warren has been trying to grow tomatoes all summer. he always plants a crazy amount of plants and seeds, but they only produce like...one. (one tomato all summer. i'm not kidding.) it makes him irate every year, but he does it the same way each time. (like for the past 5 years.) when friends of ours give us vegetables out of their garden (like fen did), he gets like garden envy and super jealous of their green thumb skills. mostly i think he is pissed they are saving more money than he is, because vegetables are so expensive at the grocery store. he is still waiting for some of our plants to produce and i don't have the heart to tell him that i'm pretty sure the one tomato that became ripe (and we ate) three weeks ago is all he's gonna get. (give it up.)

moreover, my husband has to be the only man in the world that will use a coupon to get 50 cents off of a loaf of bread...and then blow 300 dollars at the casino and act like it's no big deal. (that happened.) i mean, what is the thought process there? the kid will clip coupons...and then turn around and act like he's donald trump while at the tropicana? (ok then.) i didn't get hyper about it because we do have a little more money to play with in the summer. we don't have to pay for things like daycare and excessive gas. however, i did give him some hell...because like every other middle class family, we have enough to pay our bills and that's about it. (hence, the coupons.) anyway, when the boys (aka my brothers and husband) made a "plan" to go to atlantic city for their birthdays, i was a bit concerned. i've said before that sending my youngest brother daisy and warren out into the world together is like sending helen keller and ray charles on a date...in a corn maze. (no bueno.) adding my other brother into the mix is just another monkey wrench into the equation. butch had stars in his eyes about the trip for weeks and then when my brothers mentioned they reserved the penthouse at the casino i think he about lost his mind. (blew a goddamn gasket.)

this is the first photo i got from the three of them shortly after they checked in. i will say that i really did want my husband to have a good time, i just didn't want him to get arrested...or die. the three of them will not divulge alllll details about the evening, but i do know that the following happened: butch was hit on by a prostitute but didn't know it until she said, "how much are you willing to pay for a good time?" he said, "what do you mean?" it took him a minute to "get it." (i wonder if prostitutes take coupons or give discounts?) secondly, daisy tried to buy a prostitute a drink, but didn't know she was a prostitute. (he was "shocked" when he found out.) there was also something about a group of african american midgets they were dancing with, but they didn't go into great detail. (i don't know.) remember how i said they reserved the penthouse? it was complete with a bar and fireplace, also had beds galore. the only one who stayed there was butch and it was for about three hours. both brothers went missing midevening. they showed up the next morning and it came to light that daisy slept in the elevator most of the night, then got kicked out of the casino for doing so. my other brother may or may not have disappeared with a MILF. my question is...who reserves the penthouse and hardly uses it? (them.) money well spent, fellas. (well spent, indeed.)

so after my husband's pretend taping of hangover IV, i got to have my own little rendezvous with freedom as well. the next morning i gave them some time and texted to make sure all were alive. (they were.) butch sounded like he had been drugged and beat with a billy club when i talked to him on the phone, but assured me that he would be home in a couple hours so that i could leave and meet my family for dinner. in the meantime, i played with the girls and ran errands. about midmorning, though, i noticed that my two year old was feeling a little warm. (ruh roh.) she had a full blown high fever by the time he got back and i knew this was going to be a bit of a problem for him. (he doesn't deal well with sick kids.) she was acting all hannibal lecter and i asked him if i should even go...he assured me he would be fine. i gave strict instructions about medicine dosage, packed up a duffle bag, and went on my way.  (sayonara suckkaaaaaaa!) i rolled down the windows, turned the music way up, and looked over both shoulders to make sure there weren't any toddlers chasing me down the street. i would take a bullet for either kid, but breaks are necessary. (otherwise, you end up burnt out.) anyways, as i headed out i shot a text to my family members and it read as follows, "on my way, bitttchhhesss!" (so eloquent.) making my father proud, one text message at a time.

this picture was taken before the festivities actually began. i'm not sure what i was going for here, but i look like a goddamn mental patient. we rode like that down the elevator and into the lobby. my mother informed me that if my dad was waiting there he would, "not be happy with our antics." (what else is new?) he was outside having a smoke so i didn't have to avoid his dirty looks. at one point we had to all cram into my husband's matchbox size car to go back to the hotel after dinner, we were standing on the streets of philly wondering how we were going to get 5 grown ass adults and a large cooler (it was byob) into the car so we could get out of there. my brothers and dad went to work pulling out the carseats and then started trying to jam everything in the trunk. there were expletives flying out of my fathers mouth as he slammed an umbrella stroller in and out of the back of the car, trying to get it to fit. i also heard him saying something about us getting a "goddamn minivan" because this was just ridiculous. i heard the f bomb fly a coupla times, too. my mom and i stood on the sidewalk and just watched the whole thing unfold. (it was hilarious.) daisy also video taped part of this, but somehow when all was done, we fit in the car. my mom, dad, and i were in the backseat with the stroller across all of our legs. daisy was in the front seat with a full sized cooler on his lap. (he was moaning.) my other brother drove. when we arrived at the hotel i started singing circus music as we all fell out into the hotel parking lot. (it wasn't pretty.) we took a cab after that.

surprisingly, the evening was pretty low key. i mean, i woke up sans car keys and credit card...but that's pretty standard for me. my dad was not happy when this all came to light, but instead of saying anything just shook his head and fell silent for a while. (this is typical.) i found my keys behind the front desk in the lobby (no idea how they got there) and after checking my online statement, tracked down my credit card at the last place we were at. (yahtzee!) i don't get to see my family much during the school year, so it was nice hanging out with them. when i got back onto the highway to head back home i got a call from butch. he stated that carrie was acting crazy. turns out both of them somehow contracted coxsackie's disease, which is more commonly known as hand, foot, and mouth virus. ella didn't start showing signs of it until last tuesday, though...right in the middle of a swim lesson. i saw her shivering like hell on the side of the pool and she started crying uncontrollably. i had to do the walk of shame out of the aquatic center and i swear i felt like i was on an episode of teen mom. people were staring at me like i was a bad mother and i bet most thought that she was just scared of the water and not sick. she had to miss lessons all last week, but we headed back to the pool today, now that she is no longer acting like hannibal lecter. (last week was a heluva week.) i'm soaking each warm day in for what it's worth...whether it's riding a luggage cart or sitting in a library with my kids for story hour, i've enjoyed every minute (except maybe the coxsackie's disease). may your beer be cold and the sun be hot, because old man winter is just waiting in the wings to wack us with a snowball...highlight reel the shit out of summer, people. salud!