Whenever I Can Fit It In

I know.

It's been more than a month since I did one of these. But, you guys, the month of May was so not my fave. First, I (stupidly, and against my will) turned 40. And that's not even the worst thing that happened last month.

No, I don't want to talk about it.

A couple of good things did happen, like both The Bud and Lady had birthdays, so now I have a five year old and a one year old. A kindergartener and a toddler. *sniff* Work had its good and not-so-good moments. Life keeps tripping by, some days, sorely trying my patience and mental fortitude.

Anyway, that's my list of excuses. What I have for you today is some musing, mingled in with some life bloopers, if you will. Enjoy.😚

• Today, I discovered that I'd been wearing one of my shirts backwards since I bought it six months ago. It fits much better the new way.

• I discovered that a lone (but powerfully effective) dingleberry--yes, it's what you think I mean--got washed and dried in a load of laundry. You know the saying, "One bad apple doesn't spoil the whole bunch,"?

One dingleberry does. It really does.

• The other day, I had the thought that if I could invent a pair of women's underwear that kept in line that tiny front butt that shows up sometime after the 2nd kid, without cutting off circulation to one's outer extremities, but that wasn't so flimsy the undies constantly roll down below said front butt, I'd be a millionaire. Then I realized I'd never get around to fleshing out the idea. No pun intended. I'd get distracted trying to inobtrusively (is it in or un??) roll my current underwear back over my tiny front butt while in line someplace inappropriate. Like Starbucks, H&M, the office, or if I'm honest with myself, anyplace outside my personal bathroom.

• I am completely over post-partum boobs. They were a novelty for a while, but now I just really need my shirts to fit.

• If the newborn is now a year old, can I still call them post-partum boobs?

• My five year old is learning how to deal gracefully with disappointment. I don't have the heart to tell him he'll still be working on that in 35 years. Seems mean.

Monthly Musings: April, 2016

It's a springtime miracle: I'm posting a list of 'Musings' in the month in which I gathered my muse!  Better get crackin' before I forget what I'm thinking about (which happens WAY more than I'm comfortable admitting to you).
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• I spend entirely too much of my daily parenting, lately, teaching my man-cub not to fart in my breathing space. #boyslife

• Currently, I'm not the favorite of either of my children. They want Daddy for just about everything, so why am I still so freaking tired all the time? #littlechildren

• I'm "outgrowing," for lack of a better word, my all-for-the-kids parenting phase. I've started to seek out ways and moments to be away from my children, which isn't all bad. It's kind of refreshing, actually. What it means for you, though, is you really don't want to answer my phone calls or texts right now: I'm probably looking for a sitter. #youbusyonfriday?

• The other day, I was complaining to my mom about The Bud's unwillingness to participate in the $85 soccer camp we (I) signed him up for this Spring. Her answer? "That's sounds like you at his age."

M'kay.

I'll ignore the not-so-subtle retributive glee from my mother and, instead, try to find a bright side in my own parenting future. So he hates rules, right now. There's still a chance he'll turn out alright in the end, right? This will have to be my solace. If we let him live, that is. #only3moreweekstogo #i hate heartsoccer

I Love Being A Fly On the Wall

Conversation overheard, between The Artist and The Bud, just now:

TB: Um, um, Daddy?
TA: Yeah, Bud?
TB: Will you come downstairs and watch Charlie Brown wiff (sic) me?
TA: *sigh* Alright, but just for a minute. I'm watching baseball, ok?

[Walking down the stairs]

TB: Ok, for 15 minutes.
TA: No, for 2 minutes.
TB: Ok, how 'bout for 12 minutes?
TA: How 'bout 30 seconds?
TB: Yeah!

Somebody needs to teach that kid that minutes are longer than seconds. #tricked

Monthly Musings: A Year In Review--2015

Boy, have I missed you guys! 2015 was inSANE. With the new baby, the move, and the new job, most days, I didn't (and still don't) know whether I'm coming or going, but my choices are either to write or not to write, so I choose the former. Even with the 4 year old sitting next to me, begging for iPhone access and another piece of chocolate, "pwease, Mommy." I will write and I will like it. Maybe not as much as I like this chocolate, but whatever. This little post is a combo of musings from December to get my feet wet and a state of family affairs to get you back up to speed on the goings on around here. Sit tight and enjoy. You can have some chocolate when you're done reading the entire post.

MUSINGS

• After a month of an unceasing litany of Christmas tunes on the radio, I was disappointed not to have heard every parent's classic favorite: All I Want for Christmas Is An Uninterrupted Nap.

• Relegated to the hottest, itchiest corner of Hell, be the creators of all tiny toys and toys with small component parts--marbles, Legos, pick up sticks, jacks, dinosaurs, soldiers--you name it. Oh, and whoever created toys that require AAA batteries. We never have AAA batteries, so them, too. Straight to Hell.

• Having a baby in the house is like living with a rooster. #getityet?

• I'm up at or before dawn most days, whether I like it or not (note: I do not.), but somehow never manage to be on time for anything. #dichotomy

• My 4 year old mispronounced the word "bloodier," instead saying, "blooder." Do I correct him, or pretend the ghoulish conversation never happened?

UPDATES

The Baby:

is 8 months old and wonderful. She's the smiliest little bit of lovin' you ever did see. We kiss and snuggle her constantly. She's got one tooth and crazy, curly hair, sits up almost completely unassisted, snorts down solid food like a Depression survivor, and has been pushing up to her knees and rocking for about 3 weeks now. Crawling is imminent. #slowdownlittlelady

The House:

is little and cute and perfect for us. We love our new digs. Everybody has his/her own space to fill up with too much stuff and yet we all still manage to spend most of our time in the kitchen. As much as I hate(d) moving, this was a good idea and I'm excited to make memories here. If you're in our neck of the woods, come by and see us. We love visitors! #littlehouseintheburbs

The Bud:

is starting kindergarten in the Fall. My baby. They're taking 3 month olds in kindergarten now, apparently. Also, if it's possible to die of impotent rage, he's killing us, slowly and painfully. As I mentioned, he's sitting next to me, currently getting peanut residue backwash in my water glass, chirping about what a "healthy and awesome" drink water is. My water, not his. His water in his own cup, he hates with a blazing fire. Mama's is the only water worthy of his backwash. I swear there is a conspiracy afoot (perpetuated by other parents who have already fallen for it and want you to suffer, too) to make parents keep children past their expiration dates. Every year of his life, some seasoned parent has earnestly assured me that next year, things will get sooo much better. That if I just hang in there, this year I will get to enjoy the spoils of the war we've waged since he developed a will of his own.

They are dirty liars. They only say that to dupe us into keeping him another year.

Without hyperbole, I can say that he's more frustrating, irritating, willful, tantrumy, whiny, and disobedient at 4 years old than he's ever been. And we couldn't love him more. In spite of it all, we are completely devoted to him, snuggling and kissing him whenever he'll allow it. #chumps

The Job:

is in Sales, for those of you who don't know. Every day is new, and challenging, and exciting. I feel like an idiot most of the time, but I'm grateful for the chance and determined to succeed.

The Baby Weight:

has gone nowhere. I am pissed. And hungry. #dammit

The Artist:

is still a complete hottie, and as it turns out, is quite handy at home repairs. If I could only get him to use one paper towel at a time instead of 4, I'd have it all.

That's all I got for right now. Here's hoping that 2016 works out to be The Year of Us All. We deserve it.

From me, to you. XOXO

Monthly Musings: November, 2015

• What is it about little kids that makes them eat foods with a definitive top and bottom (i.e. pizza, open-faced sandwiches), upside down? #notenoughwetwipesintheworld

• After a year of potty training, I have a four year old who still resists pooping in the potty, so accidents are common around our house. Have you heard the anecdote about the kid like mine who's parents "only had to make their kid clean up the mess themselves once," and said kid never had an accident, again? Yeah, me too. Unfortunately, mine is not that kid. He thinks cleaning anything is great fun, poop included. #iwantmymoneyback

• Next to my bed is an empty cereal bowl, stuffed with a napkin, a soiled burp cloth, and a disposable diaper that I used as a burp cloth after the first one died from overuse. The best thing I can say about that is, at least it's from today. #igiveup

• Conversation in the car:
The Bud: Wook, Mama, I made this for you!
Me: I can't look right now, Bud, I'm driving. Can you tell me what it is?
The Bud: It's a heart. And it's black. #ghoulishgifts

Monthly Musings: April 2015

• Six words guaranteed to make Mama's blood pressure rise when coming from the mouth of her three year old: "Don't tell me what to do." #getsmeeverytime #threenager

• A month ago, I had a high BP scare at my prenatal appt. With my history of pre-eclampsia, there's a zero tolerance policy on anything that might signal vascular disease. I've overcome the threat so far with interventions of all kinds and things seem to be going really well. So, I tried to write about it. But what's come out so far is so raw, so full of ghosts, (not so) latent fear, and pain, that I can't bring myself to go deep enough to finish it. And I can't share it here. Not yet. Maybe I never will. 

• Rounding the bend into my 3rd trimester, I've developed a need for a regular infusion of chocolate milkshakes. I wonder if that has anything to do with me measuring 3 weeks ahead of my due date? Nah...coincidence, probably.

• The cliche that all men love showering their women with lingerie doesn't ring true around here. My man showers me with Cardinals gear. In the last month alone, The Artist has bought me 2 Cards' shirts (non-maternity, though I am politely termed, 'great with child,' and getting greater by the second), and a pair of earrings. That brings my Birds On A Bat gear total to 6, which seems like overkill, but the love behind it makes me blush. I've never been so full of team spirit. #CardinalNation

• I'm outnumbered around here, and have been for a long time. I know it, and I've mostly come to terms with it. I'll admit nursing a secret hope that Lady will help  balance the power after she's born. Be on my team. Or at least help me clean up the film of pee and peanut butter that's on all my stuff. But I've noticed lately that when The Artist talks to the ladybump, she goes nuts. Like, waaaay more nuts than when I talk to her. I'm starting to see my dreams of a ride-or-die sidekick turning to ashes. #teamdaddy #anotheronebitesthedust

• Today, I get my roots done and a trim. I've never been so excited about routine beauty maintenance before.  #thisisalmostforty #pregnantgrayhair

When Mama Went Off the Deep End

It seems that I went through a paranoid phase when The Bud was three. I think he was winning...

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Hey. This is The Bud, here. I hijacked my mama's computer to have a bit of a heart-to-heart with all the preschoolers out there. I can't read, yet, so I can't say for sure what she's been posting on this blog,  but I can hazard a guess that not all of it is...shall we say...complimentary to those of us in the 2.5 to 5 yr old set. It's time to fight back with the tools we have at our disposal.

Where my people at? Whaddup, playas??!

Why the gangsta lingo? And how am I able to type and spell, when I've just told you I can't read? Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to! I'm three. Why do I do anything? Because I can, that's why. And you'd better believe it. In fact, for the adults who may actually read this post, I pity you the mind f**k that'll have you trying to come to terms with the possibility that a three year old could actually hijack an adult's computer and write a blog post. Admit it: in some of your more paranoid moments (like after he figures out how to escape his bedroom in the middle of the night, after you've turned the doorknob around so that very thing would stop happening), you wouldn't put anything past the little bugger. Crazier things have happened.

But I digress. This post is to empower the powerless. We'll start with Tips To Avoid Bedtime:

1. Request that Mama read ALL the books to you before you can sleep. Every. Single. One.

2. Fake a stomach ache, requiring a parent to apply "tummy wotion" (rosemary essential oil--may as well be snake oil, for all its tummy soothing properties) to the skin over the offending organ.

3. Go pee, again, but not until you've announced your need to do so to both parents and gotten their buy in on the plan.

4. Ask for more dinner.

5. Ask for more drinks.

6. Ask for a snack, your missing blanket, or for help to find your favorite stuffed toy-which is only missing because you don't know (read: care) to look under your blanket for it. 

7. Ask to be tucked in. Again. You can't help it if Mama and Daddy have already fallen asleep. You need their help!

And if, by some fluke, your maligned parents are unmoved, and all these deflective techniques fail, fall asleep for a half hour, then fall out of bed and scream the house down. That'll do it. Ain't NObody gonna sleep for a while after that. 

I've given you my best stuff. Make me proud. And DO NOT tell them where you learned this stuff. Even if they offer you chocolate. 

Love, The Bud

Monthly (Half) Musings: January 2015

Happy New Year, you gorgeous people! I hope you've had a wonderful holiday season, and that getting back to the grind hasn't been too painful. Typically, I save my Musings for the end of the month, but with only five days under my belt this month, I've already logged so many that I thought I'd split them up--giving you some at the beginning and the rest at the end of the month--you know, like bookends. Here's to getting this shiny, new year off to a great start!

• On New Year's Day alone, I was cut off and aggressively tailgated by two muscle cars--one a BMW, the other a Dodge. Dear Muscle Car Drivers: if you don't want me to believe that you're over compensating for physical and/or mental deficiencies by your choice in automobile, please do yourselves a favor and refrain from such gross vehicular infractions, particularly while driving said muscle cars. That is all.

• No matter how strong the urge, do not go #2 in a public bathroom stall that you're sharing with a 3 year old. It won't be the semi-private experience you were hoping to have, trust me. #dontaskhowiknow #atleasthewasencouraging

• We just found out baby #2 is a girl (henceforth & forever to be known in this life and on this blog as Lady, short for Ladybug), and not a moment too soon, in my view. The menfolk in my house are currently holed up in the Bud's room, watching dinosaur fight scenes on YouTube. This baby is my last ditch effort to restore some balance around these parts. #outnumbered #desperate

• Thank God (and my friend Shannon) for maternity yoga pants. #namaste

• I had my first opportunity to park in one of those 'Expectant and New Mothers' parking spots the other day. Pulling out as I waited to pull in were two women in a truck with the windows rolled up, both taking deep drags from cigarettes. The driver met my eye with a "Prove I'm not pregnant; I'd really like to see you try," gleam in hers. Now I've seen it all. #secondhandsmoke #mustnotbeshowingyet

• How long can you expect to fear a little boy peeing in your eye? If you'd asked me an hour ago, I'd have said 'until he's 3 weeks old, probably.' That's the last time mine did it to me, anyway. I've since had to adjust that date to 'forever, and most likely, today could be the day.' Because he peed in my eye today. The only emergency eyewash kit I know about is not convenient to my house. #nodignity #unclean #OSHAfail

• Another perk of a second pregnancy: there's usually somebody else tagging along with very little credibility, and who still mostly agrees with everything I say, to blame for those uncontrolled toots that slip out in public. Plus, he thinks it's hilarious, so who am I to deny him joy? #winwin #threenager #noshame

Monthly Musings, The Penis Edition: September 2014

Oh, September, you done me wrong...I'm so happy I don't have to see you again for 11 months. Right now, I'm doing a back handspring into a double "eff you," that's how glad I am to see you go. You were tough on me. I lost a family member, a new friend of mine lost her father, and one of The Bud's new classmates (also 3 years old) lost his Mommy. My own grief, and what I witnessed of the grief of others, brought me face to face with my own mortality. I wasn't ready for all that.You were a month of hard conversations, uncomfortable revelations, confusion, doubt, and the indisputable fact that life is just so hard, sometimes. A lot of the times. Maybe most of the times. I'm over you, you craptastic month.

I started 6 posts in September that I couldn't find the words to finish. The fog is lifting, so I'm hopeful that as I revisit each one, I'll be able to work through what my heart wants to say and that there will be something worth sharing with you all in this shiny, new month of October. The following post from the September archives has no depth or eternal value whatsoever, which is why I'm posting it, first. Enjoy!
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Disclosure: This post is almost entirely about penises or people who have them. If you are in any way squeamish about the word penis or discussions thereof, do not read any further. If, out of morbid curiosity, you decide to ignore your better judgement and continue reading, only to find yourself disgusted, repulsed, shocked, and dismayed, remember that I did warn you. You have only yourself to blame for whatever sleep you lose after this moment. Xoxoxo!

 

• Being a mama to a little boy, I've come to terms with a general penis-fixation in my household. It started with his circumscision and went straight to the gutter from there. We've been either at war with or acting in the direct interest of our son's special purpose since the moment of his birth, when he peed all over the surgical staff in the delivery room. We can't escape it. I've accepted it. He's got us beat. #outnumbered #wheninRome

 

• The other week, The Bud was playing while wearing only undies, and his penis slipped out of the slit in his shorts. He wouldn't stop talking about it. He demanded that we each look and acknowledge (with as much dignity as we could muster) that yes, it was sticking out, yes, it was "really tall," and YES, the appropriate thing was to push it back into his shorts and commence playing with trains. #dontphasemenone

 

• Dear God: can we talk about penises and potty training for a sec? Not to criticize Your design or anything, but it seems like having one's favorite minor appendage waving at half mast while you're trying to master pooping in the potty is an unnecessary distraction. My kid certainly can't handle it. Would it be feasible to have their members drop after they've been trained? No need to decide right now. Lemme know later what you think...

 

• I just survived a mostly solo sick kid weekend when W was working. It was brutal, and culminated in a Sunday night trip to the grocery store that I most emphatically did NOT want to take. When I dragged my downtrodden body home, I was rubbernecked and waved at by two college guys in an F150. That helped. #donthate #istillgotit

 

• In the checkout line at the grocery store, my checker accidentally rang up a couple items on my bill that belonged to the guy behind me. I noticed one of them was Pedialyte popsicles. In a show of sick-kid solidarity, I half-jokingly offered to pay for them anyway. Poor guy, he was probably as frazzled as I was...Then he informed me that he did not, in fact, have a sick kid at home. He ate them all the time, he said. "They're great for hangovers." #nevermind #youreonyourownskipper

 

• Was it was Benjamin Franklin who said, "Every father hopes his son grows up to have a bigger penis than his own?" #onlythebestforjunior #thatsjustgoodparenting

Monthly Musings, August 2014

The offending ducks. One of them flipped a gang sign right before this picture was taken, I swear.

• The rubber ducky situation around here is starting to make me twitchy. Originally, he had two--snowman duck and yellow duck. Camo (aka: green) duck got added a couple of weeks ago after a sleep over with friends. Tonight, surfer duck showed up at bath time and I swear I've never seen him before. #gaslight #somethingsafoot

• Grooming is an epic struggle and if you ask me, I'm not entirely sure it's worth the drama. If I come near The Bud with soap, a comb, or a set of nail clippers, he looks at me like I'm wearing a leather mask and carrying a chainsaw. And really, at this point in his life I'm only doing this stuff to keep DFS from my doorstep, anyway. It's not like he's prepping for job interviews or anything...#rationalizations

• Happiness is finding one, last ice cream sandwich in the box, and not having to share it with anybody.

• As a new mom, I took bathtime very seriously. I had it all: the infant tub, the tearless soap, the washcloth puppets, the colored soaps, the tiny basketball hoop with the suction cups that are supposed to affix to the shower wall, but never actually do. But did he play with any of that stuff? Nope. He wanted the potato masher, his toothbrush, mommy's cell phone (caught that one in the nick of time), and the takeaway plastic cups with local bar names on them that we collected when we were cute and fun, and capable of staying up past 10 pm. #whocares

• Google is spamming me with emails about improving my erectile dysfunction, and I'll admit, it's hard not to be a tiny bit defensive about it. #missingappendage

• The other night I realized the words 'while' and 'whole' are only one letter apart, but they sound totally different. It's neither noteworthy nor interesting, but it blew my mind. I've gotta take a class or something. 

• I just tucked The Bud in for the night, kissed him, told him I loved him and to sleep well. My sincerity might've been suspect though, considering I was yelling the words at him at the time. #bedtime #mommydearest 

#gothef%$@cktosleep

I Just Don't Get It.

It's been a while, so I thought I'd fill you in on the random stuff that runs around in my brain these days, kind of like a catch-up phone call. Not that I have time to call you.

 

Now that my son is almost 3(!), I spend a lot of time exhaustedly sitting in one place while he dances around me like a dervish on speed. Even if I had the energy, I wouldn't want to get in his way, for fear of getting my tender parts winged. To attempt to maintain control of my life, I'm keeping a running list of things that mystify me about parenting one of these people and thought I'd share:

 

1. The kid that, while we're in the same room, maintains a minimum distance of 4' from me at all times, desperately rattles the door knob, calling, "Mama, where HAR you?! Knock, knock!" if I try to use the bathroom alone, with the door closed.

 

2. Bubbles blown into the air are the best ever; worthy of hours of chasing and cries of joy. Bubbles, disguised as bath suds, are evil, flesh-eating monsters, intent to kill and destroy.

 

3. Why doesn't a 103° fever slow a toddler down? 99.9° puts me in a coma for a week.

 

4. If I pooped my pants and someone offered to clean it up for me, I'd be happy to let them.

 

I think.

 

Hmm...

 

5. He won't eat delicious chicken and veggies, but chalk? Yuumm...

 

6. To my knowledge, I've never offered my child food that was actually disgusting or inedible, but he still expresses a good deal of anxiety over the first bite of a new food. Usually, either Mama or Daddy has to try it first, a la royal food tasters, to prove it's not poisoned.

 

7. Why is two drops of milk dribbled on his shirt intolerable, but a full cup poured on my rug is just fine?

 

8. Why is it that I bolt up, wide awake, when I hear a terrified sob come from his room in the middle of the night, but when I rush in to check on him, he's sleeping soundly? #hestryingtokillme

 

9. Tantrums: WHAT does a person with no responsibilities, who has every need anticipated for him, have to be so upset about???

 

10. If you have the presence of mind to hide when it's time to poop, why not just grab an adult and ask to be put on the pot, instead?

 See what I mean??

That's enough from me for now. Got any toddler mysteries to add? Feel free to leave a comment. Supposedly, there's strength in numbers. Maybe together we can beat them!