Thursday, December 19, 2013

The Meaning of Christmas - Bird and Bean Style

The Bird is really getting into the holiday spirit this year.  If by spirit, you mean that she wants anything and everything that has ever been or ever will be in existence.... and is something a princess ballerina would wear.

Which, in our household, means that she will be getting a baseball glove and a bat.

The Bean, on the other hand, has decided that what she wants most for Christmas is hot dogs and water. Because that's her favorite. Apparently, nutrition in our house has been way lax since she joined our little family.  And Mommy needs a refresher course on Parenting 101.  Also, she'll be getting a wand.

But, in an effort to get both girls to understand the true meaning of Christmas, we had a discussion about how it's more important to give than to receive, and how making someone else happy or smile is the best gift we can give ourselves.  We talked about how some kids won't get much for Christmas and how we should try to be Santa's Helpers.  We picked a tag off the Giving Tree at day care and went shopping for some of the families that need a little Christmas help.  The girls were awesome and were very excited to pick out a Batman action figure and some fun t-shirts for other people.  We only had a "moment" when The Bean threw a fit because she wanted a Minnie-Mouse shirt, too.

If by "moment" you mean that Mommy had to threaten to cancel Christmas unless she put the shirt away because THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU.

Ahem.  Overall, it was a positive experience.  And when we were driving home and talking about giving gifts to people, The Bean stated that she weally wanted to give her best fwiend, Ivy, a toy.  And not just any toy... one of her very own toys.

Dude.  DUDE.  How huge is that?  She got it!  The 2YO got it!  I got a little teary-eyed and said that of course!! Of course we can go to The Island of Misfit Toys (our basement) and pick out a very special toy to give Ivy.  And at that, The Bird decided she'd get in on the action for her BFF, Emmy.

So, yesterday we began the tedious process of choosing which toy our friends would like.  The Bean's first selection?  A plastic chicken leg.  Yes... that's what we call toys around our house.  Problem?  I talked her out of that because, you know... maybe Ivy doesn't have a kitchen to put the chicken leg in, mkay?  So maybe something else that she can actually play with.

After a thorough inspection of all of their toys, both girls decided on little racing cars that their BFF's would really like.  Rather than wrap them up  (because who has wrapping paper on December 18??), I put an oversized bow on each of them and off we went.  When we got to school, The Bird had to put her gift in her cubby until her friend got to school, but Ivy was there when The Bean got to class.  It was so touching to watch her run over to her little friend and hand her the toy car with the bow and say "Merry Christmas, Ivy!  I wuv you!"  Seriously... this kid is too good for me.  I explained to the teacher the whole story because I wanted her to be able to tell Ivy's mom why she got a gift from The Bean... and I certainly didn't want her mom to feel like she needed to go out and buy a gift for The Bean.  This was about giving... not getting.  And, you guys?  Parenting win!  She got it!  She totally, completely got it!  ASK ME ABOUT MY MAD PARENTING SKILLZ OVER THE HOLIDAYS!  I GOTS LOTSA ADVICE!!!

That night, when I picked The Bird up from school, I saw that she still hadn't given Emmy her gift.  So, I went with her when she handed it to her friend with a quick "Merry Christmas".  Emmy wasn't sure what to make of the car, so The Bird went on to solemnly explain:  "I'm giving you this car for Christmas.  Because I don't play with it anymore, cuz I don't like it anymore.  Because I'm a big girl.  And big girls don't play with cars.  So, that's why I'm giving it to you."

Face. Palm. So. Hard.

Back to the drawing boards.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire

I read this post by Christine Burke, of Keeper of the Fruit Loops fame, and I gotta say... it made me get the warm fuzzies to know that I'm not the only mom who lies to her children.  But, it's not just around the holiday's that I find myself fibbing to the kiddos. And if you're offended by that or want to get all Mommy-Shaming on me, I suggest you go ahead and navigate away.  Because what I'm about to admit to is waaayyy too real for you.

I admit it, I never planned on lying to my children.  Lying is bad.  Lying is something that only weak people who can't stomach the truth do.  Lying is evil and leads to nothing good.

And I had no idea that I would come to rely on lying as an effective parenting tool.  I had no idea I was capable of something so sinister. 

But that was BC... Before Children.

Before we had children, I remember thinking that the only thing I would lie about to them would be the obvious:  Santa, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny.  And maybe leprechauns. Because I'm not convinced the little green men with gold don't exist, mkay?  Also, I'm a huge fan of Lucky Charms.

But I digress.  Apart from those four things, WHY must we lie to our children?  Why can't we simply take the time to give them a straight answer?  I am an educated woman. I have a degree in communication. And at one point, I was convinced I could talk to animals. Surely, I can explain to my children that the reason they can't have any more kettlecorn is because it's bad for them and it will make their tummy hurt.  I mean, a good mom wouldn't tell her darling angels that the kettlecorn had to go in a timeout because it wasn't being very nice.


The thing about trying to explain anything to the tiny humans is that there is no answer they are satisfied with.  "Too much kettlecorn will hurt your tummy" sounds like a reasonable answer.  For reasonable human beings.  But, if I've learned anything in my four years as The Mommy, it's that The Little Dictators are anything but reasonable.  And if I don't lie? If I decide to tell them the truth?  Well, that's when we engage in a game I refer to as "20,000 Questions/Excuses/Bargains".

"Why will it hurt my tummy?"
"How come?"
"No, it won't hurt my tummy!"
"Can I just have one more handful of popcorn?  Pweeaaassseeee."

"I pwomise it won't hurt my tummy?"
"You never, ever let me have all the popcorn!"
"When can I have more popcorn?"
"I pwomise it won't hurt my tummy."
And my own, personal favorite:  "BUT!!! I'M STILL HUUUUUNNNGGGRRRYYYY!"

Of course, if you offer them an apple to appease that hunger, suddenly their hunger pains have a much more specific need.

See, the thing is, they don't understand logic.  Duh.  But they do understand things like "timeout" and "being mean" and "because I said so".  So, to avoid both dry mouth and driving myself crazy answering all of the Questions That Never End, I have taken to lying to my children.  Quite often.  And often in public to avoid a meltdown... Judgy Judgerson's be damned.

Yes... My dear, sweet, children who get in trouble when they fib, are being lied to on a regular basis.  Because a) I'm tired and b) I'm an awesome parent like that.  And if you need clarification of what being an awesome parent is in my world, allow me to list the lies I've told my children in the last 24 hours:

1 - If you suck your thumb, your hair won't grow long like Rapunzel's.
2 - Yes, your hair looks like it's getting a little longer, but it would get a lot longer if you stopped sucking your thumb.
3 - Dino (our Elf on the Shelf) just looked over here when he heard you whining.  I bet he tells Santa that you're not being nice.
4 - Dino decorated our house for Christmas!!!
5 - We don't have any more pecan pie.
6 - Either get in the car right now, or stay here by yourself.  I'll do it.  I'll leave you here.
7 - You don't have to get shots this time. (This one was inadvertent because I didn't realize boosters were due.)
8 - I know it doesn't look like a braid, but trust me, it's a braid.  Mommy's really good at braids.
9 - I can't carry you because I have an owie.
10 - Only grownups can have croutons.

People without kids can sit back and dream about the ideal way to raise children. Go crazy thinking about the magic of raising children and what a great pinteresty Mommy you will be. But when those children turn 2... those same people will quickly realize that lying is one of the only things that give you an upper hand in this nonsense we call parenting.

Well, that, and control of the kettlecorn.

Monday, December 2, 2013

Time Lapse

This Thanksgiving/December 1 turnaround is killing me.  Usually we have a week after feasting on bird and pie to recover enough so that we can even consider locating the decorations for Christmas. 

So, adding a last-minute work trip to the holiday schedule was NOT MY BEST FRIEND... but we made it work and on Sunday, went and picked out the tree.  Not just any tree. THEEEE. TREEEE.  The tree that was the perfect combination of not too tall and not too wide, but sturdy enough to handle some slightly heavy ornaments.  I call it the cheerleader tree.  It's very peppy and organic.

The girls have finally bought into the whole YAY!  WE GET TO DECORATE FOR SANTA brainwashing that we've been encouraging for years, and were very excited to help.  Actually, The Bird was excited to help.  The Bean was excited to sit in her nightgown and poop on the flashcards we had left out.  In her defense, she was constipated and I think the poopy surprised her as much as it surprised us.  I think the second time she did it surprised us more than it surprised her, though.  Because, you know... fool me once, yada yada yada.  But fool me twice and I'm totally telling Santa.   

Because he's a rock star, Benny decided to do a little time lapse of the decorating of the tree.  And what you'll see when he finally has it finished is so heartwarming and holiday-ish that I almost don't want to burst that warm bubble of Peace on Earth you've got going by explaining exactly HOW. MUCH. IT. SUCKED. 

So, I won't.  Except to ask you to reflect on how much both of these girls absolutely OWN me on a daily basis, and then add a dose of holiday stress cheer.  And if you end up with something other than tangled lights, and lights that don't work even after you just tested them, a 4YO trying desperately to "help", a 2YO pooping on the couch and then screaming in pain on the potty because she's constipated, your husband telling you to make sure when you're bending over to fix something to be careful of the boob shot for the time lapse, all while we listen to Christmas music and pretend that this isn't driving us crazy... well, then, you're doing it wrong.

And, I should clarify... it didn't suck.  It's just so chaotic that by the end of the night, after the teeth were brushed and the stories about the Elf on the Shelf were told (and yes, Dino came to our house last night and decorated for mommy... and even hung up a picture that mommy's been procrastinating on doing for at least a year), let's just say that the silence that followed bedtime was freakin' magical.  And hey, I've got the memories that will last me through Christmas but will magically disappear in time for decorating the tree next year so that I won't remember the crap that goes along with it and we'll hit repeat.  And then, you know... it only takes doing something the same way for two years before it becomes a tradition.

She Gets That From Me

Nature or Nurture?  The question that every single parent asks themselves several times a day.  Usually when they walk in and see one of their children eating chocolate pie with their face.  And only their face.  It's in that moment that you have an imaginary conversation in your head that sounds eerily like the anti-drug PSA from the 80's:

"Who taught you how to do that?"  

Before we were blessed with The Little Dictators That Live With Us, Benny used to cringe and harp on me about how disgusting it was that I played with my toes while watching TV.  In my defense, it wasn't that I was playing with my toes.  I was absentmindedly... okay, fine.  I play with my toes. Absentmindedly.  While watching Friends re-runs.   

"Hi.  I'm Jaynee, and I like to clean out the lint between my toes while watching the best sitcom ever. Could I BE any less ashamed?"

He calls it gross.  I call it good hygiene, and he could learn a thing from me and my toes.

But that was before we had kiddos and we got to do things like play with our toes absentmindedly and eat pie with our faces. 

And it was loooonnnngggg before The Bird started becoming obsessed about her toes.  Like... really obsessed.  The type of obsession that I know if I don't hear something from her for a while, she's likely in her room cleaning out lint from her toes.  We take off her socks so she can go take a tubby, and we've got 5 minutes of toe cleaning before we actually can set foot in the tubby.

Drives me freakin' batty. Looking in the mirror - on steroids - will do that to you.

Which brings us to The Bean.

This kid is a 24-hour reflection of yours truly.  She loves it when the word "butt" comes up in a song, and laughs hysterically whenever I rewind it and she gets to hear the word "butt" again.  Not that I encourage that type of behavior... but I now have  moral obligation to introduce her to Sir-Mix-A-Lot.  And soon.  Her favorite Disney song is Poor Unfortunate Souls from Little Mermaid, and she has got the evil witch laugh perfected.  She cracks up when someone around her toots.  Moreso when she's the bandit.  She has also been known to Toot-Scoot-and-Blame.  She doesn't like to wear pants, and when the temps get a little cool and we start requiring her legs to be covered, she pulls them up above her knees and runs around like freakin' LL Cool J.  Or, me when I was in college.  At not yet 3, she's wearing size 10.5 shoes.  And I know this because one day, I noticed that her big toes were sticking completely out of her size 7.5 shoes.  And she'd never said a word.  Apparently, I did this same thing to my mom and that's why my toes were severely curled for most of my childhood.  She is a stickler for words being used correctly.  When she has a runny nose and asks for a tissue, if I bring her some toilet paper, she defiantly refuses to use it and points out that toilet paper?  NOT A TISSUE!!!  And if we're in Benny's truck, we are not to refer to it as a car. "It's a twuck, Mama!"  It's almost like she's seen me shame a Facebooker for using 'your' instead of 'you're'.  She refuses to dress up like a princess with The Bird, which has been the origin of many Saturday morning fights.  And she insists that I sing her the old folk songs my parents sang me when I was a kid.  You know, the one about the hammer killing John Henry?  No?  Never heard of it?  Come over one night while I'm putting The Bean to bed and you can hear a scary-ass folk song about a hammer that totally makes my serial-killer sweet 2-year-old fall sound asleep.

So, because I don't want DCFS to come take the girls from me, count me solidly in the camp of nature and genetics.  Neither one of the girls have seen me do the nonsense that they are now pulling... it just comes to them instinctively.  And while it's frustrating for Benny to deal with it, it's downright surreal for me.

But then again, the other day I saw The Bird nonchalantly wipe a booger on the dog, so things have got to be getting pretty surreal for Benny, too.

Except that one?  Pretty sure that's nurture.

Monday, November 18, 2013

In Other Words, It Snowed On Saturday

Today at crossfit, Coach asked me:  "What was your favorite thing about this weekend?"

I hesitated because I'm often dubious of these types of questions because, you know... what's your angle, here?  How do you plan to use this information against me during the WOD to make me cry?  How many burpees are you going to throw at me for that margarita?

Honestly, given the way my weekend rolled out, I thought it was a trick question.  Because the weekend?  The weekend was rough.  Like Pull-Out-My-Eyelashes-One-by-One rough.  My favorite thing about the weekend?  I dunno... that I survived it?

But you say that, and people think you're joking.  Or being sarcastic.  They don't realize that saying it out loud is just another form of coping and processing what could only be described as a shit show.  And you know what?  We should be celebrating that survival!  Not sitting back as parents and feeling bad that the only thing to brag about the weekend is that everyone made it out alive.

But, we don't.  Because some scars... they're just too fresh.  The wounds too deep to just get over with high fives, a joke, or a glass of wine shot of tequila with your husband.  

And that's why God invented blogging.  

 So, yea.. we're alive and hey!!  For the first time in months my kitchen and living room floors are cleaned.  I mean, I still wouldn't consider eating off them because it's highly likely that the dog has already dragged her butt on them because that's just what she does whenever she sees a clean floor.  But to the naked eye?  LOOKS DAMN GOOD.

And, of course, the only way the cleaning of the floors was able to happen was because Sunday, I put on my Mean Mommy hat, made both girls play downstairs with their toys (the AUDACITY!) and put the dog outside for two hours so that I could properly muck out the barn.  Because, yes... when I dumped that bucket of mop water, I found hay, oats and a substance that's either pre-chewed hot dog in the corner of the kitchen... or turkey poop.

I thank the Lord for that Sunday and my complete and utter worshiping of the clean floors.  Because Saturday?  Saturday was a lesson in getting my ass handed to me by the tiny humans that I feed and clothe and love with all of my heart.  Don't believe that two grown, educated adults can be brought to their knees by 3-footers who don't know how to spell cat, yet?  Here are a couple of examples of the typical asshatish stunts they pulled all day:

1)  Nostalgia Can Go Ahead And Suck It
After purchasing The Little Mermaid soundtrack, I attempted to relive some of my childhood memories and put it in the CD player for some quality Disney time with the girls.  At which point they both started screaming that they couldn't see it.  Because - and this is not their fault - they don't know the difference between a CD and a DVD.  (Side note: I blame myself, but at the same time, I also give myself a high-five that they are so technologically disadvantaged.  They still live in a 3D world and know what grass and dirt feel like. Point Mommy.) I didn't try to explain the difference, but I did lay it out  that this was just songs.  JUST. SONGS. 

And THAT went over like a fart in church. 

When they finally calmed down enough to "understand" that it was just songs, I had to repeatedly stop the CD because they would not stop asking who was singing.
"MOMMY!!! Is this the mermaid?"  
"MOMMY!!! Is this the witch?"  
"MOMMY!!! Is this the crab?"
"MOMMY!!! Why are they singing that??" 

And the answer to that one is: "Yes, okay?  It is!!  It's melting my brain as we speak.  JUST LISTEN TO THE SONGS!!!!"
For those of you who are thinking of having kids... seriously, just close your eyes and try to picture how this whole thing went down.  Think about how a 36-year-old woman who will never back down from a fight if she knows she is right... who can, if challenged, walk the ridgepole of a roof a la Anne Shirley... who has jumped off 70-foot cliffs into the ocean into shark infested water because YOLO (before YOLO was a thing).... who once hit 60 mph going down a hill on her road bike (and who, it is increasingly clear, is a bit of a thrill seeker)... who has a successful career and is not cowed by much in her work life... Go ahead and think about what it takes for THAT woman to end  up pulling into the driveway, jumping out of the car and punching the bricks on the house to give her a good reason to scream and cry.  THAT woman is broken for that one moment.  

Her kids were able to accomplish that break in less than 30 minutes.  No one and nothing else has even come close to that feat. But her kids, they drive her bucking fanana's sometimes.  And it's just so hard to love someone so much, but also be incredibly annoyed by them.  It's a disconnect that will drive you absolutely BATTY.

And if you read that and didn't hurry to get yourself some more birth control, it's clear that you, too, are a serious thrill seeker.  And don't mind losing your ever-loving mind. I don't blame you for thinking that it can't be that bad and it's likely more of an outlier, rather than A Day In The Life of every mother, everywhere.  Go ahead and tell yourself that. If I hadn't gone through that bit of madness, I would have no idea how maddening something like that would be.  

After pulling into the driveway with the girls crying because of the Curse of The Disney, Benny had to come out to the car and run interference as The Bird had dropped her fries twice and after I helped her pick them off the wet driveway once and she dropped the whole box AGAIN?  I. Was. Done.  And I needed to hit some more bricks.  This time, with my face.

2)  Shoe Time
The Bean needed new shoes so last week I went to a consignment shop and found two super-cute pairs of size 8 shoes.  I picked size 8 because it seemed about right.  I mean, her toe was literally sticking out of the size 7 I'd had her in all summer.  So, size 8 should work.  Plus, she's only 2... how big can her feet be?  She was pretty excited about the purchase when I brought them home, but I noticed that putting the shoes on was difficult. Of course, try to explain that new shoes might be too small to an opinionated 2-year-old and watch her face melt off.  So, on Saturday, I took both girls to Target and decided we'd just check her sizing there.  When she came back as a size 10.5, I punched myself in the face for being that mom that doesn't track on her youngest child's sizing the way she did with her oldest.  Of course, we needed to purchase her a new pair of shoes right then and there because... I FELT HORRIBLE.  But would The Bird stand for it?  Would The Bird remember that last week, she got two new pairs of shoes that actually fit her so she didn't need another pair of shoes just because The Bean was getting one?  

The short answer is HELL. NO.   The long answer is that I was punching myself in the face for walking into that one like a freakin' rookie.   After which, it's entirely possible that I texted a girlfriend that I was raising a generation of self-entitled a#$holes.  

3) My Daughter, Ladies and Gentlemen
Because Saturday also happened to be Benny's birthday and we were going on a much-needed date, my sis came over to babysit.  After we left, The Bird threw some food on the floor and when she was told to pick it up, she smugly said:  "No... that's what Mommy does."  

EXCUSE ME??  Last week, The Bird was being... well, a 4-year-old... and decided to purposely tilt her pelvis up while peeing on the potty and shoot pee all over the floor.  The bathtub.  And Mommy.   The Bird ended up cleaning up her mess and also ended up with quite the talking to.  And guess who decided to copy her sister 30 seconds later because it seemed like the right thing to do?  Holy geez, I don't have enough toes to stay on all of them all the time.  Something's gotta give here.

Bottom line:  I've had both girls clean up their spills for the last few months. So, I want to know what in the hell THAT comment was all about.  Because there's a serious disconnect and mama's not down with that. 

But did I mention any of this to Coach?  Nope.  Because he was holding his little baby boy and was happy and genuinely wanted to know about the good parts of my weekend.  I could have said that my favorite part of the weekend was 7:30 each night when the kids went to bed, but that seems overly harsh to a somewhat new parent.  And, you know... I tend to complain. A lot.  Even when I'm happy.  I could have mentioned the 25 minutes of clean floors I had before lunch on Sunday.  That made me very happy.  I could have mentioned that I told The Bird that the secret to having super long hair like Rapunzel is that your hair doesn't grow when you suck your thumb... and seriously, that might be the thumb-sucking lie that actually works. 

But instead, I went with: 

"We went to Movie Grille and saw a terrible movie.  But they brought us beer and wine and we had recliners.  It was awesome."

So, all in all?  It was a good weekend.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Daddy The (Fashion) Menace

Dear Girls -
When the day comes when you cry and scream that you hate me and that I'm trying to ruin your social life, I shall calmly pull out this picture and remind you that PLEASE. YOUR FATHER TOOK CARE OF THAT A LOOOONNNNNGGGG TIME AGO.  

It's called Epic Parenting.  AND I WE HAS IT.


Wednesday, November 6, 2013

50 Reasons Why We're Late

Full disclosure, I stole this idea from Suburban Jungle. And also? She's my new hero.

We're late.  A lot.  And although sometimes it's totally my fault, most of the time it's the fault of the Little Dictators to whom we provide food, shelter and unconditional love.  And I can only console myself with the fact that pre-kids, I gave my mommy friends a lot of leeway when showing up late for something... because I had a feeling I would end up in a similar boat and didn't want karma to kick me in the face. Let this be a lesson for all of you Not Yet Parents or Never Want To Be Parents.  Take it easy on us... we have a whole 'notha life going on.

So, in Suburban Jungle style, here is a list of reasons of why our little family is late all the live long day.  I want to be clear that each of these things has happened at some point... some have happened at the same time because if we're going to be late, let's really make it worth our while.  As twisted as my mind is, even I couldn't make up some of the ridiculousness that is listed below.

So here they are, in no particular order:

50 Reasons Why We're Late
1 - The Bean can't find her tie shoes.  Because Mommy threw them away.

2 - There wasn't enough milk put into the Cheerios.  Hostages were taken.

3 - The Bird's socks weren't smiling at her.

4 - It's not Tumblebus day at school, so we have no incentive to get moving.

5 - The kids made me drink and I had to sober up.  Which is why we just decided to walk, mkay?

6 - Bonnie chewed on the corner of The Bean's blanket.  Causing The Bean's face to melt off.

7 - We're not going to make it to Second Breakfast at school anyway, so who cares?

8 - I had to wrestle a badger.  Which is to say I had to clip The Bird's talons toenails .

9 - The Little Dictators wanted more bacon.

10 - The Little Dictators insisted on toenail polish because I had new polish on my toes.

11 - I lost track of time because I was hiding in the closet, eating the one slice of bacon left... and painting my toenails.

12 - The Bird's leotard is making her bummy itch.

13 - The Bird wants the leotard that The Bean is wearing.

14 - The Bean has taken off all of her clothes to go potty.

15 - The Bird tried to put The Bean's leotard on and got stuck.

16 - The Bean refused to let me help her put on underwear.  And then got stuck in said underwear.

17 - The Bird discovered that The Bean was wearing her underwear and "She's already pooped in three pairs of my undies, Mama!!"

18 - While spinning around in circles, The Bean managed to run into the fridge eyeball first.

19 - The Bird had an imaginary owie that needed three bandaids.

20 - We couldn't find The Bean's Cat In The Hat socks.

21 - The Bird couldn't decide which baby she should take for Show&Share.

22 - The Bean had to go to timeout because she couldn't remember not to hit Mommy when she didn't get her way.

23 - The Bean had to go to timeout because the words "poopy butt" were banned after she said it to a little old lady at the store.  And they certainly are banned at the breakfast table.

24 - The Bird called the The Bean "Earwax" and Mommy had to go into timeout so they didn't see her laugh hysterically, lest they decide that calling someone Earwax is encouraged in our family.

25 - Mommy can't find her phone.

26 - Mommy can't find her keys.

27 - Daddy has Mommy's keys.  But left his phone home.  So Mommy is keyless and upset.

28 - On the way out of the door, it comes to Mommy's attention that wait... WHY DID YOU TAKE YOUR SHOES AND SOCKS OFF???

29 - The Bird decided that shorts go much better with her winter coat than long pants.

30 - The braid in The Birds hair isn't quite perfect.  START AGAIN, MOMMY.

31 - "We've only had 3 bran muffins each.  We need 16."

32 - The Bean needs to poop.

33 - The Bird needs to poop.

34 - The Bird does not like the jacket she's supposed to wear. 

35 - "But I wanna watch Super Why!!  I never get to watch Super Why!" This, after two episodes of Super Why that morning.

36 - Mommy had to run in and get the vitamins she forgot to give them over breakfast.  Because without them, both may end up with scurvy due to a lack of nutritional elements that chicken nuggets and peas don't provide.


38 - Time to eat snow.

39 - The dog got on top of the table and started eating the bran muffins the kids had left while taking their shoes off.  So... we need more muffins!

40 - The Little Dictators found out that where we're going?  Doesn't have cookies.

41 - "But whhhyyyyyy do I have to wear pants?"

42 - The Bird had a meltdown because I used The Bean's flyswatter to kill the moth, instead of her flyswatter.

43 - The girls got in a knock-down fight over who got to climb in the car first.

44 - The girls want to see the video Mommy just took of them fighting over who got to climb in the car first.

45 - The Bean needs a tissue for her nose.  NOT THE TOILET PAPER YOU BROUGHT HER.  Heads will roll.

46 - Desperately needed to read Go, Dog, Go!  For the 32nd time.

47 - The Bean decided to wash her cup in the toilet.

48 - The Bean decided that her walls needed a splash of Crayon color.

49 - "I wanna do it!" is the refrain heard from both girls for everything from buckling their car seats to getting out of the car. 

50 - Both girls were downstairs playing quietly and Mommy decided she was actually going to enjoy a cup of coffee, because that moment has been 4 years in the making.  Fine.  This one's on me.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

November In The Mountains

Both Hazel and I have fought a particularly nasty head cold that's been floating around the city lately, and today we all finally felt well enough for all of us to take a walk on the river... one of our favorite things to do in Ogden.  

So, we all drove down to the Ogden River and walked along the newly restored section.  We saw, bikers, joggers, walkers and DUCKS!  Ducks that The Bonnie quickly chased upstream, but ducks nonetheless. The Bird picked wildflowers which I think is probably frowned upon... but when a 4-year-old hands you a flower that she picked and says proudly:  "This is for you, because I wuv you," you take the flower, stick it behind your ear, give her a hug and hold on to that memory FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.

The girls love to throw rocks, and the river is the only place that they're allowed to do so.  I'm sure the fisherman in Daddy was cringing on the inside... but we weren't there to fish, we were there to experience.  We were there to make memories.  We were there to laugh.  And we did it all.  We played in the leaves, posed for pictures and got our hands dirty in the mud.  That's okay, though... because if we know anything, we know that Mommy's jeans are perfect to wipe dirty little hands on... heaven forbid we wipe them on our own jeans.  Heaven forbid we wipe our boogers on the bottom of our shoes, when Mommy's leg is right. there.  But that's another story. 

After playing in the river, we walked over to a riverside park and played for a while before heading down for lunch at Slackwater.  Fantastic pizza special yesterday... European Union.  With gnocchi!  Gnocchi on a pizza?  ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS BIT OF BRILLIANCE?  And the kiddos got their very own cheese pizza... of which Millie at 3/4 of on her own and left Hazel saying:  "But... I'm still hungry!"  And left me saying:  "You're going to have to learn this lesson earlier than I expected, but kiddo, you gotta get yours while you can.  It's every woman for herself with the food hits the table."   

Anyway, great meal and awesome view over the river.  Oh and... um... we NEED MORE SLACKWATERS on the river.  Seriously... people could will make a KILLING if they have river views from a cafe/coffee shop/wine bar on the river.  OH. MY. GOD.  We need a wine bar on the river!  We need a coffee shop/smoothie joint!  One that allows pets!  And sells, I dunno... doggie treats as well!  THEY COULD MAKE A KILLING THERE.  You know what else?  We need a cookie shop... they kind where you can make your own ice cream sandwich.  RIGHT. ON. THE. RIVER.  And you could eat said ice cream out on the patio... overlooking the river.  We need a little deli-type restaurant on the river... one where you could pull over after a run/walk and grab something healthy to eat... and a beer because OF COURSE!... and just enjoy the day on the river. 

I've got big plans for Ogden.  Not so much the funds... but big plans.  

Anyway, that was our Saturday in Ogden. 70 degrees in November?  I'll take it.  Benny took a bunch of footage of the river... which turns out to be unusable because he had it set on low resolution and the perfectionist in him cannot. handle. it.  The plan was to go back today but it freaking snowed.  SNOWED.

Welcome to life in Ogden, Utah.

Saturday, October 12, 2013

In Case You Were Thinking of Having Kids - Episode 2

This is the second episode in a series of the good, the bad and the downright beautiful moments of having children. Because none of MY girlfriends will be able to say that I didn't warn them.


 "I don't wanna go to bed!"
"You're not going to bed. You're going to take a tubby."
"And then what after the tubby?"
"Then we're going to read stories."
"And then what after we read stories?"
"Then we're going to brush our teeth."
"And then what after we brush our teeth?"
"Then we're going to read another story in bed."
"And then what after we read another story in bed?"
"Then we're going to go to bed."

In her defense, her premise never changed.


"No, Hazel... I'm not going to go find your baby for you."
"Because... Mommy's off-duty this morning."
"(giggles) You said doody!"

She's totally ready for junior high.


The easiest way to ruin a 2-year-old's life is to not let her use the ice dispenser on her own. Coincidentally, not letting the 2-year-old use the ice dispenser on her own also ruins the 36-year-old's life.


Every morning I wake up, I think that maybe today is the day that I won't have to threaten to take away - or actually take away - The Bean's blankie because she's not listening or respecting my words.  Or is outright laughing at my words and then doing exactly what I asked her not to do.

And then 5 minutes later, I'm all... "Maybe tomorrow will be the day."


At the breakfast table:
"Poo-poo!" Giggle, giggle, giggle.
"POO-POO!" Giggle, giggle, giggle.
"Hey!  What did I say about that word?  We don't say that word. And we definitely don't say that word at the breakfast table.  Next one who says that word goes in time-out, do you understand?"
"Yes, mama."
"Yes, mama."

As I walk towards the bedroom to finish getting dressed for the day:

"(whisper) Boo-boo."
"What did you say?"
"(softly) Boo-boo."
"With a b?"
"Yea... boo-boo."
"You are walking a FINE LINE, Millie."


"Hey mama... my bummy hurts."
"Do you need to go poop?"
"Um..... YEA!"

Expect to have this conversation once a day for at least a year.  Per child.


"You never, never, never let me pick out my own clothes!!!"
"Oh really? You think I had a hand in that contraption you wore to school yesterday?"
"What's contrapshun?"
"Just put on your pants and let's go."
"Hazel... it's 40 degrees outside. You wear a sundress to school and I go to jail."
"Yes... but at least I'll be home to cook you dinner tonight."


Before you make the mistake of thinking your 2YO and 3YO are old enough to watch Princess Bride, maybe your 36YO behind should watch it alone to jog your memory about what exactly is in the movie.

ROUS's?  I don't think they exist.  



6 a.m.  I open my eyes to see one of the two girls standing next to the bed.  I can't tell who it is because IT'S 6 A.M.

"I wuv you, Mommy," she whispers.

I grab her, pull her into bed with me, kiss her cheek and we both fall back to sleep.


Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

"This shit is hard."

This - the final sentence in an email from a fellow working mama of two the other day - was in response to my describing my absolute failures as a mother that morning. 

It had been a good morning, until it was time to put on our shoes.  And by "our", I mean the almost 4-year-old who has suddenly decided she's the Anna Wintour of toddler hand-me-downs... with a special penchant for shoes and socks.  Socks, which, btw... we haven't worn in over four months because it's summer and Mommy refuses to deal with socks in the summer.  It's a standing rule in the house.  Which is why none of the socks in the drawer are matched...  and likely won't be until the first snow flies.  Which means that when someone decides they must have the pink and white socks and wants Mommy to find the match to the one she's clutching so excitedly in her little hand, but Mommy is running SUPER late for work and it's still freaking 90 degrees out.... well, you can do the math. 

I won't get into all the deets of the massive meltdown that proceeded me carrying her kicking and screaming... and shoeless... out to the car that morning.  But refrains of the Louis CK standup about his 4-year-old daughter that wouldn't put on her shoes were ringing in my head the entire time.

"Put your shoes on.  Put your shoes on. Put your shoes on.  How many times can you say that to someone before you want to kick them right in the face?  Seriously.  If you're with a group of people who want to go somewhere and you can't go because  a member of your party just REFUSES to put their shoes on?  That person is a f*$%@# asshole."

I remember laughing at that bit.

Before I had kids.

Because back then, the bit was just a bit.  And it was funny.  I laugh at it now.  But now... now it's just so damn true that when I laugh about it, it's only in a attempt not to cry at the honesty and truth that people without kids don't get.  And won't get.  And they shouldn't have to get.  Until they have a 4-year-old sharing a house with them.

Parenting is hard, there's no other way to look at it.  And it's like you have 99 fails a day... and maybe one success.  And in my case, sometimes the only success I have that day is not eating both girls whole to just make the noise and the fighting and the "Why?" stop... which I'm convinced is why so many animals eat their young.  THEY'VE. JUST. FREAKIN'. HAD. IT.

Other days, my parenting success is getting the laundry out of the wash before it starts to mold and has to be washed again.  Tonight, it happened to be noticing that the washer wasn't working because I had too many items in the wash and it was unbalanced.  I try to do all of the laundry in one load... because sorting is for sissys.  But, seriously... if I hadn't been at the top of my very short game, I would have had zero underwear for tomorrow.

Sometimes my only success is using what a friend of mine calls Mommy Jedi Ninja Skills to proactively avoid an argument between the girls or with the girls.  Which is downright exhausting.  And means that the pink plate that they both want has to conveniently disappear for a few weeks just so our morning muffins aren't spoiled with tears over who got the pink plate that day.

It means that instead of having one of the girls let the dog out of her kennel in the morning or when we get home for the day, I have to do it just to avoid the absolute devastation one of them will feel if she doesn't get to let the dog out.

It means that instead of the one fly-swatter I need to deal with a moth/fly problem in the house (which, I'm starting to maybe feel like I'm oversharing exactly what a bad housekeeper I am, but it's not like I have dignity these days, so whaddaygonnado?) I have to buy two.  And I have to write their names on each of them.  And then I have to lie to them when I use one to kill a fly because if one asks you whose swatter I used and I tell them it was her sissy's?  END. OF. DAYS.  So, I'm constantly lying about whose swatter got the kill.  And seriously... I mean, I know I'm competitive, but these girls put me to shame.

It means that I have to actually sneak Millie fiber gummy bears when Hazel is out of the room because she'll want some.  And Hazel does NOT need any more fiber in her diet.  So say I.  So say her teachers.  She's GOOD.

It means that in every single situation in which the girls are present or could possibly become present, I have to determine what will cause a fight 5 minutes from now, and remove that from the equation.  This is called putting out fires before they are fires.

And then... yes, it must be said... adding a full-time career to the mix certainly doesn't help the feelings of inadequacy or guilt that comes with the above list actually being something that you brag about to your husband at night.

"Hey... how were the girls tonight?"
"Oh... they were good.  I threw Millie's blanket into the garbage because it was either that or eat her when she hit me... and she cried for 3 hours.  I should probably get that out and wash it."
"Yea... I also told Hazel she was acting like a child.  So.... I win all parenting competitions."

And that right there?  That's my day in a nutshell with the girls. Tonight, I actually took a 5-minute video of the nonsense going on with a 3-year-old trying to be good, but getting teased mercilessly by both her 2-year-old sissy and the damn dog.  The damn dog, btw, is about to be shipped off to a farm.  She ate Millie's Fiber One bar this morning and it only takes one of those things for me to get the squirts, so tonight should be awesome.  And then during tubby time, my Ninja sense told me to go check in the kitchen because it was too damn quiet.  That's when I found her STANDING ON THE TABLE, muzzle deep in the pot roast the girls hadn't eaten off their plates (because, apparently, they only eat grapes on Tuesdays).  

But, I digress.  The video tonight was just constant loop of what our lives are right now.  Hazel trying to be a big girl and do something on her own, Millie stomping all over that something... like Godzilla. Hazel freaking out.  Millie laughing about it.  Bonnie trying to snatch a latent crumb off of Hazel's upper lip. Hazel freaking out.  Millie laughing about it.  Me yelling at Bonnie.  Millie messing with Hazel's project again.  Hazel freaking out.  Hazel scratching/hitting/pushing Millie because she won't leave her alone and is ruining EVERYTHING.  Millie crying.  Mommy telling Millie that maybe she should have respected Hazel's words.  Millie quickly recovering.  Millie going over and messing with Hazel AGAIN.




All night long.  

And, I mean... who knows what the right play is here as the parent??  I'm fairly certain I shouldn't be laughing at Millie when she's crying from her make-believe but totally deserved injury.  And I'm 80% certain that I shouldn't allow Hazel to hit/scratch/push anyone. But... I just can't. I don't see the girls all day and then when I do see them, I'm constantly playing referee or end up in a fight with one of them.  And that's in between all the "Why?" nonsense.  Swear to God, I had to institute a rule that if I tell the girls to do or not to do something and their response is "Why?", they have to go in timeout.  The problem with THAT little ditty is Millie actually likes to sit in timeout.  FOR THE LOVE OF PETE, I HAD TO REMOVE THE TIMEOUT CHAIR BECAUSE SHE WAS PURPOSELY TRYING TO GET SENT TO TIMEOUT SO SHE COULD SIT IN IT.

This is what I'm working with.   

Seriously.  This shit IS hard. 

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Pregnancy Oversharing in 3... 2... 1...

In an effort to update the blog layout, but not lose easy access to all of my posts that outline just how crazy I got during both pregnancies, I created this post.  Because one day, I'm going to make my daughters read it before they decide to get pregnant so they know EXACTLY what they're getting into. 

Apologies to The Bean for not keeping a better journal when I was pregnant with her.  But, you try being pregnant with a toddler AND keep up-to-date with the laundry and brushing your hair teeth, much less a journal about how miserable you are. 

Bird Bump Watch - 2009
Week 39
Week 37
Weeks 35-36
Weeks 33-34
Weeks 31-32
Week 30
Week 29
Week 28
Week 27
Week 26
Week 25
Week 24
Weeks 20-23
Week 20
Week 19
Week 18
Week 17
Weeks 1-16

Bean Bump Watch 2010-11
Weeks 34-36
Week 33
Weeks 26-28
Weeks 23-25
Weeks 21-22
Weeks 1-18

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

In Case You Were Thinking of Having Kids - Episode 1

This is the first in a series of the good, the bad and the downright beautiful moments of having children.  So you can be both inspired and horrified at the exact same time.  In the biz, we call that multi-tasking.  

Hazel wanted to dance ballet in her princess dress tonight. 

So I turned on Shaggy.  

The look on her face was absolutely worth subjecting her to Shaggy.

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

Number of times in my life that I made pancakes prior to having kids: < 20
Number of times I've made pancakes in the last three years:  3,485 

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

Played hide-and-seek with the kiddos tonight.  Went into the bedroom where they were both hiding, and said:  "Where could Hazel and Millie be hiding?"  Millie pops up out of her hiding spot and screams:  'WHITE HEEEERRREEEE!!!"

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

"What's the rule?"
"Um.... we don't show our private parts to our friends, anymore."
"Right.  What do we do if our friends or anyone else shows us their private parts?"
"We say: 'You shouldn't show me that!' and then walk away."
"No.  You run.  You run away, okay?"
"Okay.  Can I have a cookie, now?"

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

The girls had a knock-down, drag-out, call-the-cops fight in front of the Home Depot paint color sample card station today. Because out of 5,000 colors and cards to choose from, they both went for the exact same color sample card.... one of 10 to choose from in that sample, but they both wanted THAT one.

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

"I'm gonna sit next to Millie while we eat because she's my best friend, and I love her!"
"Millie, who's your best friend?"
"Hazo!!!  And I wuv her!"

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

"What's that smell, mama?"
"That's the lake effect... from Salt Lake.  Because Salt Lake stinks."
"No it's not!  It's not the wake effect.  The car pooped!"
"Yea!  The car pooped!"
"Cars don't poop, Hazel."
"Yes dey do!  The car pooped!"
"No, Millie... cars don't poop."


You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

"Would you like it if I wiped MY bummy and then wiped the toilet paper on YOU?"
"No... that's not nice."
"Then why do you think it's okay for you to do that to your friend?"
"Um, cuz she said, she said, she said that I couldn't have the yellow crayon!"

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids. 
"Millie had a blow-out today.  It got IN her shoes."

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

"I wanna put on my pants!"
"Okay, then put on your pants!"
"No!  I don't wanna put on my pants!"
"Do you want me to help you put on your pants?"
"No!  I wanna put on my pants!"
"Then put on your pants!"
"NO!!!  I don't wanna put on my pants!"
(Substitute pants for peeling a banana, eating a strawberry or playing with her dolly, and you've got Millie in a nutshell.)

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

"Mama!! I was good today and didn't get a note or anything!"
"Yay!  Does that mean that you were nice to all of your friends?"
"Uh-huh!  And I didn't try to wipe my toilet paper on them, either."


You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.    

"I want daddy to play Silverback."
"Oh yea?"
"Yea.... and you can be the giant."
"That's grrrrrreat."

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

After fighting with her about going to sleep tonight, I finally reached my limit and threatened to take out her ponytails if I had to come into the room one more time.  That's right, I went nuclear.

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.

"Heeeeyyyy... Hazo said no to me!"
"What did I tell you about sticks and stones?"
"Words will hurt my bones!"
"Fine.  What did I say about tattletaling?"
"I not a tattletale!"
"Yes she is, mommy!  She's tattling on me!!"

You know... in case you were thinking of having kids. 

Friday, August 9, 2013

About Green Boogers and Oatmeal

You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll wonder why they let me keep my kids.

In 2005, I started a triathlon blog where I attempted to exorcise my demons of being a terrible swimmer and runner. I blogged about races. I picked internet fights with fellow racers about the color of their bikes. I believe at one point in a race, I actually tried to trip a guy in a red shirt because I'm not a fan of The University of Utah. In short, I met a lot of wonderful friends along the way.

In 2009, I stopped writing that blog because I'd gotten pregnant and felt the need to grow up. So, I created The Parent's Hood  - now Green Boogers and Oatmeal after my children informed me that they like green boogers (not the red ones, those are gwoss) and oatmeal, so can we have that for dinner tonight? pwease? - and documented the pregnancy and subsequent OMG WE HAVE A BABY AND IT SUCKS part of my life. It was a way to cope. And it turns out, I didn't need to actually grow up at all. Just had to stop cussing and hey, I'm supposed to do that with kids anyway, so it's a two-fer benefit.

Writing was my outlet when I was on maternity leave and seriously... with a first-born who cries ALL THE TIME? Paid maternity leave is a horrible benefit for us with extreme first-world problems. You all probably wouldn't understand because it's all about me. So the outlet was totally needed.

Now with two children and a full-time job, it's still a way to cope. And it's a way for me to document our crazy life... and I hope that one day, my girls will be able to look back on it and say:

"You know... I know we had to have her committed because she started talking back to the voices in her head, but there might be something that explains Mom's craziness in here."

Until then, I intend to enjoy the ride. And I hope you will, too.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013


For the last year or so, we've been noticing that Hazel has been, well, kinda... OVAH her sister.  In some ways, I can't say I blame her.  I mean... Millie is on Hazel like a tick.  Anything, and I do mean ANYTHING, that Hazel says or does... Millie then says or does.  It doesn't matter if Hazel accidentally fell down while walking, Millie will stop what she's doing, walk over to the same spot, fall down and then proceed to recreate the exact same kind of drama that Hazel just dished out.

Which is why for a few months, they were introduced to strangers as Pete and Repeat.

And Hazel... well, you could tell that she'd had it. She would tell us that she just wanted to be by herself without Millie.  She would actually go into her room and shut the door and play. By herself.  Which is completely unheard of for that little girl.  She who wants Mommy and Daddy to play with her ALL THE TIME.  She who is incapable of She who had to take a trip with Daddy to Phoenix just to get some alone time.

Millie... well, she can't handle it when sissy isn't right there.  It often leads me to wonder how she would behave if she didn't have a big sister.  Would she know what to do with herself?  Would she ever know how to cry and whine to the point that Mommy's brain matter leaks out of her ears?  I mean, is that an instinct or a learned behavior? And if it's learned... who the hell taught Hazel?

But, I digress.

We have taken the girls out camping the last two weekends and statistically there was a very good chance that it would be a complete disaster what with the fighting, whining and crying, as well as the constant close proximity to each other.  To say that mentally I prepared myself for the awfulness by chewing on drywall screws and removing my eyeballs with a dull spoon would be... pretty much correct.

But a funny thing happened while playing in the woods, going on bear hunts and eating s'mores: My two little girls became besties.  Like... absolute BESTIES.

And it didn't stop when we left the campground.  They have been playing together ever since.  They dance together.  They play house together.  They giggle and laugh together. They chase around the house together.  And they are worried about each other when they are not together.

They are, in short, every mother's dream. 

And we shall go camping every weekend until they turn 21 to make sure this continues.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Little Dictators

So many things my kids do these days are amazing to me.

And frustrating to me.

And it's in those moments of frustration that I find myself thinking that if they were 3 feet taller, it would be unacceptable and they would have zero friends and would probably be locked up in a psych ward.

And then, I bring myself back to the present and get bossed around by The Little Dictators That Live With Me.  Who laugh in my face when I tell them that I've had enough and they need to go to sleep.

Whose beautiful little minds are capable of making my ears bleed with all of their many, many... oh dear God so, so many questions.

Who forget what you told them 3 seconds ago, but can somehow remember exactly where the treats are that we bought 3 weeks ago... you know, the ones I forgot we had?

Who are capable of finding something for me to fetch for them even when I have covered my bases and finally sit down to eat.  Because mama must be... doing something.  She must be... cooking.  She must be... cleaning.  She must be... wiping our butts.  She's never allowed to sit still and just BE. 

And when they can't find something for me to get them or for me to do... when I've preempted their attempt at being tiny little dictators... they sit at the table, fork in hand, glass of milk and glass of water in front of them, plenty of fruit so they won't run out, blanket next to them, napkin next to their plate and say:  "Hey, mama! Can you, can you, can you, can you, can you (deep breath) can you, can you, can you..." while she looks around for something, anything that she desperately needs RIGHT NOW, "... can you, can you, um... can you, can you, can you get me, can you get me, can you get me.... " her eyes light up and I know I'm screwed.  "Can you get me that steak knife so I can cut my Cheerios with it? PLEASE?" 

This And That

Hi.  How are you?  It's me... your long-lost blogging bestie.  I've missed you.  I've missed writing to you... filling your head up with all sorts of my CRAZY.  Because, I cannot be the only person hearing these words that are floating around in my mind.  Which means that you get to be a part of it. And YOU ARE SO WELCOME.

We are currently on day four of 30 posts in 30 days. No... it's not an internet movement this time, so NO NEED TO PANIC.  I've never been one to really jump on the "Hey, everybody... we're doing THIS right now!" train, so while I've loved that other people have done so in the past and wished I had their dedication, either the timing for me was not right, or, you know... there was a Duck Dynasty marathon on and priorities had to be made.  It's like choosing between checking to see if the little one has pooped her pants in the middle of the night (again), or if there's another Oreo cookie in the pantry that you missed.  Is there really even a decision to be made?

So, yea... day four but this is only the third post.  Because we've been camping and there is a caveat to the 30 posts in 30 days rule... in that if you don't have Wifi because you're in the mountains trying to make sure the kiddos don't fall face first into the fire, you can make up the post some other day.

And I thought that this lead in would give me time to figure out what I wanted to write about.  But it hasn't.  Seriously... what should I write about?

Here's a few of the things that have crossed my mind in the last few minutes.  Not all would lead to a good blog post, but I'm nothing if not thorough:

1 - I wonder if there are any Oreo's left.

2 - Camping with the girls is a BLAST.  I should write about how much closer as a family we are because the last two weekends we've gone camping... and how the girls are totally BFF's right now.  Because of camping.  And, also... S'MORES!!  But I'll probably do that later because as much fun as it was?  I'm wiped.  And the laundry needs to be done and the floors need to be mopped and... look at me!  Totally justifying being lazy about writing. 

3 - I wonder how awful going back to Crossfit is going to be after I've basically been AWOL since March?  Pretty terrible?

4 - Speaking of camping, I simply don't understand people who go camping, pull into the campsite which is clearly within earshot of neighboring campers, open up their car doors and blast music.   Seriously, guys?  Why even bother? There are plenty of high school and WalMart parking lots between your house and this campground... and if you go there, you don't end up smelling like campfire.

And this... this is where being an Amazon comes in handy.  As I was walking with the girls back to the campground after the 50th potty that day (because both girls are intrigued with pooping into a toilet that doesn't flush) a tatted out bro started up pulsating bass music from his car while his girlfriend sat by the fire (no doubt wondering how she ended up with such a winner).  It took one look at him... one stern "Do NOT make me come over there and go Red Ross on you.  Because I'll do it and it won't be pretty.  And also, my girls... they wake up early each morning.  Like... really, really early.  And I can attempt to keep them somewhat quiet... or, I can hand them some pots and pans, and point to your tent. " look.. and he quickly turned it off.

Didn't hear a noise from him for the rest of the night.

That happened.       

5 -  So, when we got the pup, we thought she was a heeler.  Then she morphed into a terrier/heeler.   She has once again morphed to a schnauser/terrier/heeler.  I can tell you that two breeds of dogs that I swore I would never have are a part of this little mutt.  She makes up for it somewhat by being a bit of a water dog, but damn, Gina!  The yipping and the nipping and the not minding me... NOT A FAN.

6 - Have recently told the girls that instead of saying poopy butt - a long established potty word in our house - they may say chicken head.  This may have been a strategic mistake.  But given that last week, both girls called a little old lady at the grocery story poopy butt... I'm willing to make concessions.

7 - Next Friday will be our 10-year anniversary.  When we were talking about it today, I had to remind Benny that when we were on our honeymoon, we made plans that on our 10-year anniversary, we would go back to Hawai'i and renew our vows.  Yea... that so didn't happen.  Because last week I was all... hey!  Ten years is coming up!  Oh, right!  Hawai'i isn't going to happen since we made that promise to each other when we had lots of money and time on our hands.  Well, what's the 10th anniversary gift?  Something diamond?  They don't make diamonds encrusted fly rods, so that's out. Maybe we can go on a date... HOW AMAZING WOULD THAT BE?

8 - Hey, did you know that I'm still an Orange Rhino?  Yep.  Haven't yelled at the kiddos since March 26th.  To be fair, I have raised my voice but when you ask a kid to put on her shoes for the 27th time that morning, and she goes into her room, and comes out with a princess dress on because she can't find her shoes... the shoes which were sitting right next to the princess dress, btw... you have to figure out a way to get the message through.  That's when you threaten that if they don't get their shoes on now, and I mean RIGHT. NOW. those princess dresses are going in the trash.  And yes... that means you'll never have princess dresses again.

It's amazing to me how quickly they find their shoes after that.

9 - Sitting in the backyard while blogging might be my best idea yet.  If I could get the damn dog to shut it.