A little trash talk

You know, overall, being a mom is really great. Breath taking sometimes even. There are parts though, they are small, that really get me questioning my decision to become a mom. It leaves me pondering if I had somehow lost my senses when I thought it was a good idea to be a mom to not only one kid, but two kids.

They really are little things. For example. Like the aversion to the trash can. There are several trusted places I can easily find mounds of garbage ... and not one of them is the trash can. Any of the trashcans we own, actually.

The first place? The kitchen counter. I will say - throw the three day old popcorn bag in the garbage please. Where does it end up? Why yes, on the counter. Throw that shredded paper (formerly known as important documents) in the trash can. Pffft. Please. It's on the counter. In a not so neat pile of what was formerly known as the last copy of our marriage certificate we could find. (We've paid for at least 7 copies to date.)

Then, there is the mobile trash can. Moi. And it's like bulk trash pick up day if I am carrying a purse. Chewing a piece of gum? Why, yes, I'd love that crumpled up wrapper (from Ethan and not, Tyler. He is a hoarder of wrappers ... another story). Wait, you're finished chewing that wad of slobbery gum, sure I'd love that too. What's that? Random bits of paper and old stale happy meal fries? Why, yes, please give them to me. I am carrying my purse. Might as well give me the big glob of string ... and what is that? Bulk pick up is never pretty.

Then, there is the car. This is like those big green dumpsters you see outside of apartment complexes. Except ours is red and known by the general masses as our Jeep. My kids see a place to dump the crap they would have to take inside and put away. I know that on an average day, I can piece together a three course meal of molded leftovers, supply enough toys and pieces of toys to make Santa look like a light weight, and probably clothe all of Southern Ohio. That's just how we roll .... literally.

And with all these non garbage can dump sites, somehow our trash can is always over flowing.

Surrender to the dark side

So, I have a three year old son who idolizes Star Wars. He eats, sleeps, and breathes light sabers and Darth Vader.He is full blown on teh dark side here. Rarely is it that he chooses to be Yoda. He is mostly a DArth boy. However, if it is remotely Star Wars, he digs it. So, naturally he sleeps with an entire fleet of Star Wars action figures. The other night we are having a hard time getting him to stay in bed. At this point, I don't care if he is creating master pieces on his body in Sharpies, I just want him quiet and in bed. About 35 minutes into this warfare we called bedtime, he is at the door again. Obviously his body has quit producing spit because he is STILL parched after about 2 gallons of water admininstered one cup at a time. This is it. We are going for the gusto. We take his Darth Vader figure. We know this is below the belt, but we are desperate. My husband walks out of his room and sets his new spoil of war on the mantel. No more than two seconds later, we hear the door open again. We see poor Luke Skywalker fly across the hallway and land with a thud near our feet. The next thing to emerge is our son. Now, he isn't standing at the door. He is in full surrender mode. I see the defeat etched in the lines of his body as he is army crawling out of his room. Then I hear something that nearly made me pee my pants......



He pointed to the Luke laying at out feet and says, "Take Luke! Please, Dad, I want Darth ..... take Luke Skywalker!"


*Vintage

The gauntlet I called my Day

HOLY COW. Has this ever been "one of those days"! Sheesh! My mental state is hanging on by a thread. I thought today was going well until:

*My youngest son pooped in the bathtub. Now, this is entirely disgusting in itself. My oldest (they bathe together) is lounging in it when I come back in from the hall. I leave to get towels and this is what happens. Mental note to self: Air dry next time.

*My oldest son is playing in the backyard. It is a gorgeous day and I think how happy I am we are taking advantage of it. He is picking at some of the new buds on out shrubbery. He brings one over and asks me to TASTE it! Ack...he has been eating them!!!

*My oldest (see a trend here) begins to throw a monster tantrum in fron of our new neighbors when I tell him it's time to come inside and eat. By monster I mean screaming hysterically and yelling he doesn't want to be in trouble and get sent to bed while the sun is still out.

*I begin to to clean the poop out of the tub and notice a rash on my arms, my oldest son's face and hands, and the youngest's hands and forearms. I have what I suspect is the beginning of poison ivy. Remember the twigs and leaves my son was eating. Yeah........

*It's time to lay the boys down. Now, I am one of those Moms that go by time and the kids age when it comes to bedtime. They are 1 and 3 respectively so they are in bed by 7 (okay, sometimes 10 minutes till...). Wow, this is really early you say. Yes, and they get up at the crack of dawn too. I have tried letting them stay up, still they awake with the sun. But I digress...anyhow, my oldest says to me...BUT MOMMY...the sun is still up and my friends are still outside. Well, I cannot do anything about the kids, but I will say they have dark blankets tacked over their windows now.

*And last but in no means least. I FINALLY have my kids tucked in and they have subsided in their wailing and gnashing of teeth and who comes by?? The flippin' ice cream truck! ACK!! Of course, this causes another onslaught of mayhem in the house. Time for round 2.... *Ding Ding*


*Vintage

Delusions of Grandeur

Well, to say that we have had an adventerous week would be like saying running on the treadmill for three miles is the same as laying on a beach in the Carribean. Not even close. I eluded to the fact that husband has been layed off his job of nine years. I am already a stay at home Mom. The only thing remotely job related that I do outside of the home is tutor. I even do this for free.... I volunteer. So, unless I start hitting the second graders up for their lunch money like the biggest bully known in the history of grade school history - you can say ... we have no one working in our house. This freaks me out A LOT. We have a very tidy little severance package coming in, but I am stuck on the fact the we have no income freely flowing in our little house.

After getting over the shock of it though, I had dreams of my husband frolicking in the yard with the boys while the sun glistened off the freshly scrubbed house. I pictured using the time to the best of our ability doing things like the families in the commercials do. I should have gotten a clue from the commercial. The mom is a size 4 despite having 3 kids under the age of 5 running around. The living room is completely decorated in white, yet there are no chocolate face prints on the window, the goldfish isn't nervously ticking everytime one of the kids gets near the bowl, the mom is dressed (and not in PJs or yesterdays sweats), her husband looks like he stepped off the cover LL Bean., and the kids are completely controlled and perfectly groomed. None of this was happening in my house. Yet, I still blissfully sat there anticipating homemaker heaven.

Instead, I am sitting in green drawstring pants and a grey T-shirt (it smells clean), the house is destroyed, we had Mexican takeout which I know I will regret tomorrow, and there is a blanket of strawberry Jell-O on the kitchen tile. And today was even a good day.

*Sigh* Just another day in paradise, eh?

*vintage

4 Mile hike to nowhere

Since my husband is off for a bit, we decided that we will get out and enjoy the parks around our house. We are going to try and tackle the job of visiting every metro park around. I am very excited. We love to hike and are trying to get our boys out and moving as much as possible every week. We know from experience that our boys legs will all together stop functioning at about 1 1/2 miles. So, we have been sticking to our normal spots. Well, with this new endeavour, we decided to try a new location. Carriage Hill Farms. It's a gorgeous place that Mike and I used to go to back when we were dating in High School. We were full of enthusiasm and vigor. We were going to hike and our family bascially rocked in our little world. We walk past the pond and admired the splendor of it all. The lilly pads and the baby minnows darting back and forth. We continued into what Tyler named the "Spooky Forrest". We admired all sorts of wild flowers and watched tiny green beetles scurry away from the path. This is living I tell myself. We are walking about 15 minutes when the path breaks. There are little signs marked with color. Hmm .. we never checked the path Legend back at the beginning. No need, we will wing it. We decide to let Tyler choose so it feels like he is leading the adventure. We forge ahead at his direction.Now, let me say this ... never let a 3 year old lead your hike. Just a rule of thumb here. Anyhow ... we break through the tree line and enter the biggest grassy plain I have ever seen in Ohio. Now, here is lies the beginning of the end. In our adventerous spirit we don't look back. We plow through at least a good mile before I wonder if what we are on is still even a path. We are seeing nothing. Nada. Mike swears he sees a lake far in the distance. I am doubting his lucidness now. We finally come to a bend and a small slope. Of course, like the morons we now know we were, we merrily jog down it. Now we have a 4 way intersection to choose from. Mentally Mike is trying to figure out the quickest way back to the car. However, our Scout leader Tyler has decided to lead us deeper in the "South Woods". We forge ahead. We walk and walk and walk and walk. Eventually the kids quit walking. We are carryin them. I begin to get a little bit worried when I hear someone a good ways in the distance on what sounds like a 4 wheeler asking someone if they need help. Are we lost?? Are they looking for us?? Let's just say that little ... we'll say trail because that's what it was labeled .... led us a little over a mile in a huge circle that put us right back to the grassy field. Now, I am no longer seeing the beauty in things. I see a honking big plain of nothingness that I have to hike my sweating butt across while carrying my now intolerable one year old. We begin the long journey back. When we finally reach the spooky woods again, I don't find the beauty in anything . I keep thinking .... don't they ever see that the paths are overrun with weeds?? And these bugs?! They are everywhere! They really should take better care of this place. We get back to the pond and all I think is that there is tons of grassy ickiness near the banks. I mean, how are people supposed to even tolerate this? I am miserable. We make it back to the car. The kids fall asleep long before we make it back to the freeway. Let's just say that we now know, we as a family cannot hike 3.5 miles without a complete and utter loss of out general well being.

*Vintage

Anakin he is not ... this time anyhow.

A while back we took the kids to the Newport Aquarium. Lotsa fun .... lotsa money. Hand in hand right? Anyhow, we stop by to purchase the picture of ourselves in the birdcage. We see they have those pictures where they super impose your face onto someone else. So, you can be Indiana Jones if you are feeling up to par. My son is a Star Wars nut. And by nut I mean he will be one of those 40 year old men sleeping outside of the movie theater the night before it comes out. We see that he can be Anakin. Well, why not we think. So, we tell Tyler if he stands really still, we can make him look like his idol. We must have simply lost our ability to reason. I mean, c'mon, he is a 3 year old. that is like putting a bull in ballet slippers. There really is no point to it. But, we try anyhow. So, he is bouncing like a kid on speed and we are getting a bit flustered. All of a sudden he stops. In my head I am screaming at the girl to SNAP the PICTURE. He is 3 and you only have about a 2 and half second window here, lady. When all of a sudden Tyler yells ....

"Mom ! My tee tee is hanging out !!"

Stop. Rewind. Yes, that's right folks. Not only is he 3, but he is very observant. I stop and get things situated and we politely but very quickly leave the booth.

Moral of the story: 3 year olds are not comfortable in boxer briefs. While they may be cute, they are not a great idea.

*Vintage

Darth or Diva?

Yesterday I go and get my hair done. I went through the normal it took so long to grow .... it's really healthy .... will my face look fat ... you know. My sister in law finally talks me into it and I go. I sit in the chair and from out of nowhere I hear someone say .... "Start at the shoulders and we will decided from there." It must have been me because she snipped her clippers merrily and then went to work. Less than two minutes later my hair is six inches shorter and it looks like a wookie is laying on the floor. I close my eyes so she can't see the tears welling in them. What do you think?? she asks.

I timidly open my eyes and glance .... WOW! I looked ... dare I say .... great?? My hair moved in a shimmery cloud around my head. It looked fabulous! I couldn't believe it. So after I walk down the aisle like it a catwalk made for me I pay my bill and saunter to the car. I decide to leave the window cracked so I can get the same kinda look as those models with the windblown hair. It was a great day. The sun was shining and I felt glam.

I get home and hubby raved. Yes, I was hot I told myself. I walk into my oldest son's room ready for another heaping helping of compliments. " Mom! Your hair...." here it some I think ... I smile knowingly .... " it looks like Darth Vader's helmet."

I grab a ponytail holder whip it back and call it a day.

*Vintage

Tazers for Moms

As a mom there is a time that I dread. I mean I lose sleep over this. It is the ever time consuming, patience testing, the put the fear of God in me ..... Potty Training. Ugh. Training my boys to pee in the potty is like giving a blind man a water gun. It's a messy and tedious affair. We have tried all kinds of things. The Fruit Loop in the toilet bowl. Don't do this. This just leads to other things being aimed at ... after they were thrown in the toilet bowl. But, if you want to improve your child's self esteem, by all means throw a magazine in the bowl. Not hard to hit at all.

Well, we are at the grocery store and I am mindlessly wandering down the baby aisle. (The kids were not with me. so, I could spend hours reading labels of peas and really pick the tampon I really want) I notice they have a new training pant for boys. It actually lets them feel when they are wet and ... get this .... it gets cold when they pee. No kidding. Sweet revenge I think. A little shock in the pants. I buy three packs.

I slip them on my chubby little monkey and he is running around the hallway. I smile and kiss his little cheek.

"Do you need to go potty, Ethan?" I ask as sweet as can be.

"No Mommy." He barely registers that I am there.

Fine. He continues to run and dance under my feet when all of a sudden he screams and doubles over ...

"PEE PEE!" he is grabbing his front and running in cirlces. I take him in the bathroom throw a magazine in and all is right with the world.

*Vintage

Paris Hilton I am not ...

Last Christmas Eve we had quite the snow storm. According to my yard stick in the front yard, I am a professionsl snow measurer ya know, it was well over 25". This was an enormous event and I simply had to get this on tape for my Alabama bound family. They are like fish out of water when it comes to snow. My younger sister once called me and this was her exact quote..... It was flurrying so hard I could barely see. Yeah, they had to see this. So, I grab the video camera and I realize I cannot find any fresh tapes. There is one with the "special" sticker left on the shelf. This video was of the home variety for only mine and my hubby's viewing pleasure. I can tell you get my drift. Anyhow, I grab it in my eagerness and pop it in. Mike tells me over and over what a bad idea this is. I tell him to quit fussing. I am going to fastforward it quite a bit. Nothing to worry about. Well, I go and video like I am filming for National Geographic and put it away.

Fast forward to this past Spring. My Aunt and Uncle come up to visit. They have lived in the South their entire lives (bless their little pea picking hearts). Eager to awe them with the splendors of a northern winter I break out the tape. Well, I am not going to give you a drawn out details of the next few minutes. Let's just suffice it to say that I am closer to my family than I had ever intended to be. Ever. And leave it to my husband to say this:

"Man, the camera just doesn't add 10 pounds ... it adds inches."


*Vintage

Ice Cream Trucks

Ok...let me start by saying that I brought this on myself. I have this huge addiction to ice cream fresh off the truck. I hear those chimes and I stop what I'm doing, grab change, and make a mad dash for the door. Now that I have a 3 year old son, he is starting my ways. Those music notes can be miles and miles away, and you bet your last Darth Vader ice cream bar we are sitting on the curb money on hand. Well...that being said, I have created a monster. Since summer days last longer and longer into the evening, the ice cream trucks have been coming later and later. So...I am sitting on the couch one evening, enjoying the fact that I can relax. The kids have their teeth brushed, they are reasonably clean, and are somewhat tucked in. Then...WHAM...the music starts. I immediately look at my 3 year old's door knowing he must hear it too. Sure enough, the door cracks open and he says, "Mom....the ice cream truck...GO GO GO." So....there we are sitting on the curb money in hand. Me....with my chubby hubby ice cream (after bedtime pleasure) and him in his Darth Vader PJ's waiting on the dang ice cream truck.

*Vintage

For all the world to see

My family and I had tickets to our city's minor league team, the Dayton Dragons. It's been a great day since that morning. We'd been playing in the sunshine and picknicking like we were from a Norman Rockwell painting.

At this point we have been playing hard all day and I suspect the boys are wearing down. (Read: becoming increasingly difficult) We have lawn seats. No problem, the boys can run a bit. Wrong. There is a little sign that says the boys cannot stand near the fence. Of course, they cannot read ... so what the hey, right???

They begin to turn into little monsters. I am thinking of pawning them off after a while. My youngest, Ethan decides to befrind the boys sitting next to us.

I truly felt sorry for the boys but I was so greedy of having their attention elsewhere, I let it go. I noticed my oldest kept creeping further ad further away. Now, I try to "yell politely" in public. You know what I mean. You surpress it and paste on a smile to cover the clenched teeth. Finally I could take it no more. I pulled Tyler on my lap and held his face close to mine os he could hear me above the music. In mid scolding the little boy from the next blanket points at me and says ... "Look, there you are!"

Sure enough. My meltdown is caught on the Jumb Tron. Now anyone at the baseball game that reads lips knows that after one more time I was going to bust Tylers behind. Yae me.

*Vinatge post

Say that again and you will not live to see this baby

Every woman begins to get touchy about things towards the end of pregnancy. You think at about 6 months that there is no way your belly is going to stretch any further. Oh, but it does. You feel like eating a ritz cracker is equal to gobbling the entire turkey at Thanksgiving. There is no more room for anything in there and you've had it! Here's the prime time for hubby to stick his foot in his mouth.



For me, it was this. I am eight months huge and the elastic on my pants is uncomfotable. I want bigger pants. Now. So, I grab my purse and my reluctant husband and head off to MotherHood Maternity. Why do you need more pants? my poor hubby wants to know. Because the elastic is cutting your child in half - literally.. I tell him.

He looks right at me and says,

" Honey, they don't make pants any bigger."



Yeah, he is still paying for that one.


*Vintage

I need a vacation from this vaaction please ....

So...we are planning a vacation to Florida. At first thought I am on cloud nine. Images of me laying in a new bathing suit reading my favorite nonsense fiction (Twilight ... don't hate) while lying next to a crystal pool dance behind my eyes. Yes, oh yes. I want this.

Then, I begin planning this thing. Now, let me begin by saying that I think (read as: worry) about everything coming and going. So, we are heading out in September. This means (at the time) that I have only a few short months to diet, tan, get the kids tolerant of the sun, save to pay for this, get new luggage because the beast we call a closet has eaten ours, remind my dearest husband 23 times to take those days off, find a condo big enough for the entire family, rent the plethera of baby equipment needed for sustaining life with a one year old, diet, find someone to pick up the mail, get on birth control (don't ask), find a vehicle to rent, take out a small loan to pay for the gas that will probably end up costing more that the condo, make sure the kids have the cutest clothes on the beach, look up how to build a killer sandcastle, memorize home remedies for sunburns, DIET, remind Mike yet again to take those days off, oh and finish potty training my 3 year old. I can do this right?? *sigh* Maybe I need prozac and a stiff drink instead of a vacation.


*Vintage (with minor edits)

... but I still love you.

Ever have one of those days with your kids? Yeah. I've had months. I mean the things these boys do ... sigh. Case in point. The other day I ask my youngest son, Thing 2, to please pick up his dirty clothes. And with not a care in the world, he looks at me and asks ...

"What would make me want to do that?"

Now, if the child could see the images of rage induced chaos that I was imagining in my head, he would have seen a reason or six to make him want to do that.

"What did you just say, Ethan?" Surely he will redeem himself here. He can see I am handing him an 11th hour pardon.

"Why would I want to pick up my clothes?" It's on.

"GO. SIT. ON. THE. COUCH." I think my teeth may have small fractures from the amount of force I was using to grind them at this point.

He walks over like he's got this all figured out. Well, boy is he in for a surprise. I stomp into the kitchen and began pulling trash bags out of the box. I see panic flicker across his face. Then the serene mask of non-chalance is back.

I stomp down the hall with the bags and begin throwing things in. I hear him come in the room. I glare at him as I drop Buzz Lightyear in the bag. Now, can I stop a moment and just agree with everyone that this was not my finest moment as a parent. I am sure I missed about a dozen golden opportunities to talk with him about why this was going on. But, you know what, I didn't. I was going in for the kill. Someone was going to lose this battle, and I was in all out war mode.

"What?! Wait! Was that Buzz?" He is cracking.

"Yes. And this? This is your blank blank (his blanket he still cuddles with at night). And everything on this shelf? Gone." He is crying. I want to cry. But! I cannot look weak. I am a Spartan. Well, minus the rocking good body and leather underpants.

"You can EARN this stuff back one piece at a time." I walk out. YES! Win for mama. The kid was left with bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. I even took the things off the wall. Oh yes, it was like the Grinch.

So, fast forward through the week. I am dropping him off yesterday so I could head into work. He gives me a fantastic hug and a kiss.

"Mama, " he says, " you are the meanest mama in the world, but I love you lots and lots."

Well, what do you say to that?