O.K I lied about the "other fun topics" but you're here now and that's all that matters.
Now that I am staying at home we have a lot of time to spend together but we try to make sure we get some time to ourselves as well. So yesterday A and E both go up to the playroom together to do what only seemed logical...to play or maybe, knowing how precocious and gifted they are, they were going to engage in meaningful conversation about the state of their union. Anyway, after about 30-40 minutes of new found freedom I began wondering what they were doing that was keeping their attention for such a unprecedented amount of time. My first inclination was to go check on them but thought better of it as surely this peaceful display of kinship would come to a grinding halt if I were to show up. So I decided to let nature run its course and take advantage of the time to myself so I could finish alphabetizing my canned goods and making kindling from dryer lint.
About 5 minutes later I hear them coming down the stairs and inquire about their recent activities. It played out like this:
Me: What have y'all been doing up there all this time?
DD: silence ( I could tell she was trying to decide whether to tell me or not)
Me: well?? What were you doing?
DD: spitting
Me: What do you mean spitting?
(she then proceeds to demonstrate her spitting technique)
Me: where were you spitting?
DD: in a cup
Me: this whole time you have been up there spitting in a cup?
DD: uh huh
me: and your brother?
DD: he was just playing
So there you have it. It is that simple, kids don't need lead coated toys from China that make an array of repetitive and annoying noises or expensive, plastic nick knacks that fall apart when you look at them. Give'em a little saliva or encourage them to make their own and let'em go at it.
It will certainly make for a more economical Christmas this year
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
My little angels
So I've been out of commission for a while with one thing or another and as it usually goes with mommies I found myself lacking any empathetic caretakers to surround me and nurse me back to health and as a result it took me a good long while to get my mojo back.
Anyhow, I have returned to get something off my chest. Something that I struggle with on a weekly basis and am not thrilled to admit but I am just going to lay it out there anyway and say I HATE GROCERY SHOPPING WITH MY CHILDREN!! There, I said it, now you know I don't have it all together. Well, you may have figured that out if you've ever witnessed me interact with my children at all but my focus today is on that horrific, fluorescent lit, narrow aisled, foul carted vendor of all things bright and tempting: Kroger.
I know your're thinking why don't I do my shopping when I don't have to take my little miracles but that would pretty much narrow my shopping window to late nights and weekends and that is just out of the question.
I think that all these stores that offer the carts with the the cars and TVs think they're doing us a favor but it is obvious to me that whoever designed them does not have children themselves. I mean who really thinks that 2 children are going to sit side by side in a little plastic cave on wheels without trying to pummel one another to death. If they really wanted to do me a favor they would have set it up like a patrol car with a non-transparent plexiglas between the 2 sides of the car making physical and visual contact impossible.
Also, if they had any insight into the inner workings of a child they would know better than to stock consumables at the same level as the windows on the little plastic time bomb. Better yet they wouldn't put any windows in those things at all as it is obvious that the temptation to grab everything in sight is too great for any little person to bear.
And for those shoppers who don't have children and apparently didn't have parents to teach them any better STARING IS NOT POLITE! It's like they think that glancing over every chance they get at a mother and her children who are in the midst of a contest to see who can shove who out the front hole of the plastic contraption first is their civic duty. As if they are letting you know that they are taking note of the situation and are ready to call in reinforcements if necessary. Or maybe they are just making mental notes never to have children themselves or to find an adult only grocery establishment.
When they see me coming now at the Kroger I frequent they have a system that alarms all available employees to take their stations and be prepared for any pending emergencies or to reconstruct any ill placed displays of the week's value items. They also have someone especially assigned to grope over and scrutinize my children and the little car to make sure they aren't sitting on a flattened bag of bagels or chomping on an open bag of rice cakes.
As you can see this all leads to a very stressful outing and a desire to dine on carry-out food from now until my little marvels can be trusted to stay at home by themselves, which at this rate will not be until we have consumed approximately 1,248 pizzas, 1,872 cartons of chow mein and 1433 buckets of fried chicken. Now you see my plight?
Anyhow, I have returned to get something off my chest. Something that I struggle with on a weekly basis and am not thrilled to admit but I am just going to lay it out there anyway and say I HATE GROCERY SHOPPING WITH MY CHILDREN!! There, I said it, now you know I don't have it all together. Well, you may have figured that out if you've ever witnessed me interact with my children at all but my focus today is on that horrific, fluorescent lit, narrow aisled, foul carted vendor of all things bright and tempting: Kroger.
I know your're thinking why don't I do my shopping when I don't have to take my little miracles but that would pretty much narrow my shopping window to late nights and weekends and that is just out of the question.
I think that all these stores that offer the carts with the the cars and TVs think they're doing us a favor but it is obvious to me that whoever designed them does not have children themselves. I mean who really thinks that 2 children are going to sit side by side in a little plastic cave on wheels without trying to pummel one another to death. If they really wanted to do me a favor they would have set it up like a patrol car with a non-transparent plexiglas between the 2 sides of the car making physical and visual contact impossible.
Also, if they had any insight into the inner workings of a child they would know better than to stock consumables at the same level as the windows on the little plastic time bomb. Better yet they wouldn't put any windows in those things at all as it is obvious that the temptation to grab everything in sight is too great for any little person to bear.
And for those shoppers who don't have children and apparently didn't have parents to teach them any better STARING IS NOT POLITE! It's like they think that glancing over every chance they get at a mother and her children who are in the midst of a contest to see who can shove who out the front hole of the plastic contraption first is their civic duty. As if they are letting you know that they are taking note of the situation and are ready to call in reinforcements if necessary. Or maybe they are just making mental notes never to have children themselves or to find an adult only grocery establishment.
When they see me coming now at the Kroger I frequent they have a system that alarms all available employees to take their stations and be prepared for any pending emergencies or to reconstruct any ill placed displays of the week's value items. They also have someone especially assigned to grope over and scrutinize my children and the little car to make sure they aren't sitting on a flattened bag of bagels or chomping on an open bag of rice cakes.
As you can see this all leads to a very stressful outing and a desire to dine on carry-out food from now until my little marvels can be trusted to stay at home by themselves, which at this rate will not be until we have consumed approximately 1,248 pizzas, 1,872 cartons of chow mein and 1433 buckets of fried chicken. Now you see my plight?
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Mommy Brain
My name is...ummm...err...Jennifer, that sounds right, yes I'm Jennifer and I have mommy brain syndrome or MBS. It started back when I was pregnant with DD and has been gaining momentum ever since. It is so bad that I am quite sure that if I were ever in an accident that rendered me unconscious or otherwise speechless and in the hospital I fear being pronounced VOA (vegetable on arrival) as I am sure they would discover a flatline where waves of brain activity should be.
On more occasions than I would like to disclose I have found myself walking from one side of the house to the other with purpose in my step only to arrive at my destination unsure of my motivation for being there.
It doesn't stop there my friends, I continually find myself on desperate searches around the house looking for items that I had in my grips not even 60 seconds earlier and then accuse my poor children of conspiracy.
Or if it's not forgetting what I am doing or where I put something it's forgetting to do something. I might not realize I haven't put the wet clothes in the dryer until I have scoured the whole house like a blood hound searching for the source of a putrid odor only to discover it's what used to be my freshly laundered clothes.
The other day I hit an all time low when after setting the alarm and herding the kids to the car I get myself almost buckled in when I realized I wasn't wearing a shirt! Really?? Now, I was going to the gym so arriving in only a sports bra would not have been a completely inappropriate but it is the closest I have come to being issued a declaration of insanity.
I know I'm not the only one out there with MBS. There's got to be other people who put the milk in the pantry and the oatmeal in the fridge right? The same people who spend 20 minutes looking for the phone and then can't remember who to call. There must be other otherwise my coping mechanism is not going to pan out. For now I am just going to keep telling myself it's normal and tear up the fliers they send me from the sanatorium.
So who's with me? Admitance is the first step to recovery you know. So if you feel me leave a comment about one of your memorable bouts of what we all know to be temporary lunacy. At least we hope.
On more occasions than I would like to disclose I have found myself walking from one side of the house to the other with purpose in my step only to arrive at my destination unsure of my motivation for being there.
It doesn't stop there my friends, I continually find myself on desperate searches around the house looking for items that I had in my grips not even 60 seconds earlier and then accuse my poor children of conspiracy.
Or if it's not forgetting what I am doing or where I put something it's forgetting to do something. I might not realize I haven't put the wet clothes in the dryer until I have scoured the whole house like a blood hound searching for the source of a putrid odor only to discover it's what used to be my freshly laundered clothes.
The other day I hit an all time low when after setting the alarm and herding the kids to the car I get myself almost buckled in when I realized I wasn't wearing a shirt! Really?? Now, I was going to the gym so arriving in only a sports bra would not have been a completely inappropriate but it is the closest I have come to being issued a declaration of insanity.
I know I'm not the only one out there with MBS. There's got to be other people who put the milk in the pantry and the oatmeal in the fridge right? The same people who spend 20 minutes looking for the phone and then can't remember who to call. There must be other otherwise my coping mechanism is not going to pan out. For now I am just going to keep telling myself it's normal and tear up the fliers they send me from the sanatorium.
So who's with me? Admitance is the first step to recovery you know. So if you feel me leave a comment about one of your memorable bouts of what we all know to be temporary lunacy. At least we hope.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
UFC
I have 2 beautiful,smart,loving children who are the sunshine in my universe, who give purpose to my day and who follow me wherever I go just to make sure I'm okay. At least I think that's what they're doing when they follow me to the bathroom, the bedroom, the laundry room, the kitchen, the broom closet... you get the idea.
My point is they are wonderful children but they have their moments...lots of them in fact. So many that my suspicion is that my children recently received notice that there is a casting call for a couple of new UFC fighters for the pee wee division without telling me and they are taking their commitment to be the best very seriously. Therefore, just to make sure they are able to enter the first round of try outs with all their extremities I am standing in as the referee.
This situation, while not unusual, is a bit curious as they only want to "practice" at home. They must not be ready for their big debut just yet because they are posing as gentle, civilized, courteous and accommodating little tots when under the care of others. How do they think they will make it in the UFC ring if they are not dedicated 24/7 to their "sport"?
You can imagine how hard it is for me to hear how wonderful they are, how polite, how helpful to each other and how well behaved they are when their future as ultimate fighters is on the line. I guess I am just going to have to put my foot down and demand that they retire before they have even made a name for themselves because I won't stand for mediocrity.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
seclusion
So, I've been without a computer for the past week and as a result have been forced to do things like feed the children, change their clothes, and clean the house. My link to the world has been cut off, severed, forever removed! Or at least until someone (preferably a computer hardware genius)steps forward who comprehends the gravity of the situation and volunteers to fix my computer for the sheer pleasure of helping a helpless (and pennyless)mother or until I have sold enough of my sweet children's toys and my dear husband's belongings that I can fund a new one.
In the meantime I will continue to cry myself to sleep at night and continue asking permission (okay, okay sneaking around)to use my husband's computer, which I am to understand is a superior machine and should not be used by just anyone and should certainly not to be used for things like blogging about said superiority.
I can't help myself though. How can I be expected to homeschool my child, create delectable meals, arrange playdates, and read my horoscopes without access to the world wide web???
In the meantime I will continue to cry myself to sleep at night and continue asking permission (okay, okay sneaking around)to use my husband's computer, which I am to understand is a superior machine and should not be used by just anyone and should certainly not to be used for things like blogging about said superiority.
I can't help myself though. How can I be expected to homeschool my child, create delectable meals, arrange playdates, and read my horoscopes without access to the world wide web???
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The big move
Since I am here to document milestones I have to mention a big change that occured in our household this week. It was neither planned nor pleasant for me, the mommy, the one who spent 9 months literally attached to each of my children and then emotionally and somewhat physically attached to them ever since.
Yes, we (and I use we loosely) decided it was time to reclaim our bedroom and move the kids to their own room.
This was no easy task for me , the mommy, the one who carried them for 9 months etc.,etc...
So I tried to plead my case:
"but I can't sleep without them!"
"what if one of them gets sick?"
"what if there is a fire?"
"they can't go on without me!"
"they will pitch a fit!"
"They will be fine" says DH, apparently he doesn't remember the Discovery Channel show we watched about the Burmese python that crawls into a baby's crib at night and squeezes him to death while the parents down the hall are in the middle of their REM cycle.
C'mon! Who is going to watch over my babies? Whose angelic face will I gaze into with one eye open as I stumble into the bathroom in the middle of the night? Who is going to drool on my pillow and fill up my bed with action figures and pointy objects?
All of this is either coming out of my mouth or going through my head as we prepared for the first night of eternal separation. I got a knot in my stomach as we did out pre-bedtime routine and prepared myself for the worst. Then, we put them both in their beds and leave their room quickly before I can change my mind and so I can go seek professional help.
A few minutes later as I am waiting for the crying to start and secretely hoping it wouldn't work out I peek my head in just to see how long it will be before I can drag their beds back down the hall and I find that they are both asleep!
Oh the betrayal! They need me! How can they do this to me? They have forgotten about me already and they're still in diapers and princess panties!
Next thing you know I will be moving them into a college dorm and asking them if they think there's room for a cot for me. Nothing fancy, just a little place in the corner where I can listen to them sleep while I plot a way to let me live with them forever.
Yes, we (and I use we loosely) decided it was time to reclaim our bedroom and move the kids to their own room.
This was no easy task for me , the mommy, the one who carried them for 9 months etc.,etc...
So I tried to plead my case:
"but I can't sleep without them!"
"what if one of them gets sick?"
"what if there is a fire?"
"they can't go on without me!"
"they will pitch a fit!"
"They will be fine" says DH, apparently he doesn't remember the Discovery Channel show we watched about the Burmese python that crawls into a baby's crib at night and squeezes him to death while the parents down the hall are in the middle of their REM cycle.
C'mon! Who is going to watch over my babies? Whose angelic face will I gaze into with one eye open as I stumble into the bathroom in the middle of the night? Who is going to drool on my pillow and fill up my bed with action figures and pointy objects?
All of this is either coming out of my mouth or going through my head as we prepared for the first night of eternal separation. I got a knot in my stomach as we did out pre-bedtime routine and prepared myself for the worst. Then, we put them both in their beds and leave their room quickly before I can change my mind and so I can go seek professional help.
A few minutes later as I am waiting for the crying to start and secretely hoping it wouldn't work out I peek my head in just to see how long it will be before I can drag their beds back down the hall and I find that they are both asleep!
Oh the betrayal! They need me! How can they do this to me? They have forgotten about me already and they're still in diapers and princess panties!
Next thing you know I will be moving them into a college dorm and asking them if they think there's room for a cot for me. Nothing fancy, just a little place in the corner where I can listen to them sleep while I plot a way to let me live with them forever.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
It's a cinch...
After dreaming of being a stay at home mom since my oldest was born 4 1/2 years ago the day is finally here. This means I am going to have all kinds of time on my hands now right? Of course, because I can get the kids to do most of the cooking, cleaning, washing, organizing, teaching and driving around right? They can even order each other around while I kick my heels up, push my cuticles back and highlight the best programs in the t.v guide. Sounds like just what the doctor ordered...
So, one day while contemplating whether I wanted to watch Springer or the People's Court and otherwise enjoying a lazy afternoon I realized that I was depriving my friends and family by not sharing all the intimate details of our lives with them. Therefore, I decided I must blog. Well, and also so I can document all those important milestones in my children's lives in a more practical way since the pages in their well intentioned baby books are as blank as they came. As a result, much to my dismay, if someone asks me how long they were, when did they first pass gas or what was the color of their first poop I feel forced into making up something really impressive because what kind of mommy can't produce answers to such crucial inquiries?
So, one day while contemplating whether I wanted to watch Springer or the People's Court and otherwise enjoying a lazy afternoon I realized that I was depriving my friends and family by not sharing all the intimate details of our lives with them. Therefore, I decided I must blog. Well, and also so I can document all those important milestones in my children's lives in a more practical way since the pages in their well intentioned baby books are as blank as they came. As a result, much to my dismay, if someone asks me how long they were, when did they first pass gas or what was the color of their first poop I feel forced into making up something really impressive because what kind of mommy can't produce answers to such crucial inquiries?
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