Just the other day, CJ got so mad at me. I can't remember what for, but I have a feeling I did something super irritating like not letting him watch 5 straight hours of the Batman movie I inappropriately and mistakenly bought for him in an attempt to be a cool, fun mom. For the first time in his life, he screamed that he didn't love me, stomped up the stairs and slammed his door. I'm not exactly sure when exactly he turned in to a 13-year-old girl, but I do know that my feelings were hurt ALMOST as much as the day in the mall bathroom stall when he loudly asked why mamas have such big booties, and then kindly suggested that maybe mine was so big because the Hulk stepped on and smooshed it. I'm almost positive that there were other people in the bathroom with us. And they were most likely skinny.
And as I sit here typing this, the boys just brought me a "birthday cake" made of a pile of plastic toys in a bucket. I just opened my gift of a silly band wrapped in a post-it note. They sang and cheered and I exclaimed how excited I was to have such thoughtful boys. And THEN CJ clapped and announced, "yayyyy, Mama. Now you're 67 today!!"
So I can't always count on them to pick up their toys when it's bedtime, to wash their hands after they use the bathroom, or to eat their dinner, but there is one thing I CAN always count on. Brutal honesty. And you better believe that I'm headed to the gym now. And then on to make an appointment for some Botox.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
R.I.P Dorothy
i spent $17 on medicine for the goldfish. yes, the 89 cent goldfish from walmart. the fish we didn't ask for, the fish we usually forgot to feed, and the fish who got cleaned only when we actually remembered we owned a fish. his (her?) belly got so fat that swimming around upside down was the only option. swimming vigorously to the front of the bowl whenever someone turned on the kitchen light became more and more delayed. there was no shot i was letting this little goldfish die.
why was the notion of this fate so sad to me? watching this little fish float slowly around, sinking every once in a while to the bottom was painful. i started googling how to save a goldfish. giving her daily salt baths and treats of cucumber. dorothy came to us before Ty could even talk. when throwing balls and cheerios in her bowl was funny. when dorothy and elmo were cool.when we had to put her bowl in the center of the kitchen table as a way to keep the boys sitting in their seats long enough to finish eating dinner. yes indeed, we were about to say goodbye to so much more than an 89 cent fish from walmart.
and the boys had never experienced any sort of death before. what did we say? do fish go to heaven? do we just say nothing and hope they don't ask? do we all flush her together? sad sad sad.
well, we didn't flush her together. in fact, i couldn't even look at her. i made jerry give her a private farewell flush, and promptly hide the bowl. my eyes may have welled up with tears. the next morning, he woke me up to tell me that we needed to break the news together. after all, there was no telling how they would react.
"hey guys, we have some sad news. dorothy got very sick and isn't here with us anymore. she died and went to heaven". (so apparently, fish do go to heaven.)
"oh. can we get some turtles now?"
why was the notion of this fate so sad to me? watching this little fish float slowly around, sinking every once in a while to the bottom was painful. i started googling how to save a goldfish. giving her daily salt baths and treats of cucumber. dorothy came to us before Ty could even talk. when throwing balls and cheerios in her bowl was funny. when dorothy and elmo were cool.when we had to put her bowl in the center of the kitchen table as a way to keep the boys sitting in their seats long enough to finish eating dinner. yes indeed, we were about to say goodbye to so much more than an 89 cent fish from walmart.
and the boys had never experienced any sort of death before. what did we say? do fish go to heaven? do we just say nothing and hope they don't ask? do we all flush her together? sad sad sad.
well, we didn't flush her together. in fact, i couldn't even look at her. i made jerry give her a private farewell flush, and promptly hide the bowl. my eyes may have welled up with tears. the next morning, he woke me up to tell me that we needed to break the news together. after all, there was no telling how they would react.
"hey guys, we have some sad news. dorothy got very sick and isn't here with us anymore. she died and went to heaven". (so apparently, fish do go to heaven.)
"oh. can we get some turtles now?"
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Soccer mom? Not so much.
Every mom likes to think that their toddler is talented, but the difference between them and me is that mine actually are. seriously. they can run for days, kick the heck out of a ball, and bench press their own weight. (ok, so i've never actually tried the last one. but i'm willing to bet i'm right.) so naturally, we decided to sign our naturally talented kids up for soccer.
well, one of our kids will literally try every single activity that is ever offered to him. he'll say "sure" to everything, and will most definitely have fun doing it. he loves his life, is way too young to even think about being self-conscious, and has not a care in the world about what people around him are doing. he loved every second of soccer.
our other one (the whole reason we even considered soccer in the first place) also loves all sports. little did we know that this only applies to those sports played in the confines of our yard with people whom he knows he can beat. he's older, more introspective, and more cautious than his brother. when he first walked in to the sports arena, he took one look around and said, "wow. i never wanna leave this place". here we go, i thought with an eye roll. i am officially an SUV-driving, (soon-to-be) suburban-living soccer mom. you have got to be kidding me.
not so fast. as these soccer-whiz-kids dribbled the balls up and down the field, my kid stood on the turf and wildly kicked the ball toward the goal. it didn't go in, and he got pissed. he left the first class saying he was never going back. but he did. the running games were fine. the obstacle course was fine. picking a snack out of the vending machine at the end was fine. but anything involving a ball was a problem. finally, by the end of the session he had had enough.(well, who are we kidding? he was done half way through the first week.)he spent more time on the sideline watching and not listening to us try to talk him in to trying it again than he did running around. but when he ran out on to the turf, we thought maybe we had turned a corner. and he did run for a minute.and then he kicked the ball and missed the goal again. this time he stood still in the middle of the field and yelled at the top of his lungs, "I HAAATTTTE SOCCCCCER!!!"
ok, so maybe my kid isn't the little athletic prodigy we thought he was. (or maybe he legitimately just hates soccer.) and as for me- well, i may drive an SUV, and i may be moving to the burbs. but it looks like i'll have to wait to call myself a soccer mom. trust me- i'm ok with that.
well, one of our kids will literally try every single activity that is ever offered to him. he'll say "sure" to everything, and will most definitely have fun doing it. he loves his life, is way too young to even think about being self-conscious, and has not a care in the world about what people around him are doing. he loved every second of soccer.
our other one (the whole reason we even considered soccer in the first place) also loves all sports. little did we know that this only applies to those sports played in the confines of our yard with people whom he knows he can beat. he's older, more introspective, and more cautious than his brother. when he first walked in to the sports arena, he took one look around and said, "wow. i never wanna leave this place". here we go, i thought with an eye roll. i am officially an SUV-driving, (soon-to-be) suburban-living soccer mom. you have got to be kidding me.
not so fast. as these soccer-whiz-kids dribbled the balls up and down the field, my kid stood on the turf and wildly kicked the ball toward the goal. it didn't go in, and he got pissed. he left the first class saying he was never going back. but he did. the running games were fine. the obstacle course was fine. picking a snack out of the vending machine at the end was fine. but anything involving a ball was a problem. finally, by the end of the session he had had enough.(well, who are we kidding? he was done half way through the first week.)he spent more time on the sideline watching and not listening to us try to talk him in to trying it again than he did running around. but when he ran out on to the turf, we thought maybe we had turned a corner. and he did run for a minute.and then he kicked the ball and missed the goal again. this time he stood still in the middle of the field and yelled at the top of his lungs, "I HAAATTTTE SOCCCCCER!!!"
ok, so maybe my kid isn't the little athletic prodigy we thought he was. (or maybe he legitimately just hates soccer.) and as for me- well, i may drive an SUV, and i may be moving to the burbs. but it looks like i'll have to wait to call myself a soccer mom. trust me- i'm ok with that.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Potty training is AWESOME!!
would anyone like to go toe to toe with me in a potty finding competition? i now know where to find every single public bathroom in the entire city of Rochester. I love my life.
ok, so maybe "awesome" is a bit aggressive. but as my summer weeks are slipping away, i'm reminding myself to focus on the little victories because the all-too-familiar days of working, rushing around, and dealing with the never ending snow are just around the corner. and so in comparison to what is ahead, potty training is indeed awesome.
i'm choosing to ignore the small incident when I was interviewing a nanny candidate the other day, and Ty, in an effort to ensure that ALL attention remain on him at all times, decided to just pee on the floor just because.
i'll also ignore the fact that he is now insistent on dumping his little potty into the big toilet every single time he uses it. i think he's dumped pee on the floor at least 157 times.
but my favorite PT moment to date happened a couple of weeks ago at Target. i of course did the mandatory "does anyone have to use the bathroom?" check as soon as we walked in, and when everyone assured me that no they didn't, and yes they would keep their pants dry the whole time, we proceeded with our shopping. literally the second we got to the farthest aisle away from the bathroom, Ty announced (to everyone within a half mile radius), "I haffa doe peeee!" and so with no other option, the two boys and i (plus our red cart of course) broke in to a full-on sprint. and Ty, (who refuses to sit in the cart for longer than 10 minutes now)was running alongside of CJ and me while gripping his little wiener. it was an amazing sight i'm sure. but i'll ignore that, and focus instead on the fact that he made it!! just in time and barely, but he made it. and that, in the land of victorious potty training moments, is a win.
so he waits until it's just about too late every single time, calls his brother in to "see how big my poo-poo is" and fights me at nap time every day when it's time for a diaper. (i'm all about the independence, but only to a point.) but i'll ignore all of that. this guy is almost done potty training, and that is awesome.
ok, so maybe "awesome" is a bit aggressive. but as my summer weeks are slipping away, i'm reminding myself to focus on the little victories because the all-too-familiar days of working, rushing around, and dealing with the never ending snow are just around the corner. and so in comparison to what is ahead, potty training is indeed awesome.
i'm choosing to ignore the small incident when I was interviewing a nanny candidate the other day, and Ty, in an effort to ensure that ALL attention remain on him at all times, decided to just pee on the floor just because.
i'll also ignore the fact that he is now insistent on dumping his little potty into the big toilet every single time he uses it. i think he's dumped pee on the floor at least 157 times.
but my favorite PT moment to date happened a couple of weeks ago at Target. i of course did the mandatory "does anyone have to use the bathroom?" check as soon as we walked in, and when everyone assured me that no they didn't, and yes they would keep their pants dry the whole time, we proceeded with our shopping. literally the second we got to the farthest aisle away from the bathroom, Ty announced (to everyone within a half mile radius), "I haffa doe peeee!" and so with no other option, the two boys and i (plus our red cart of course) broke in to a full-on sprint. and Ty, (who refuses to sit in the cart for longer than 10 minutes now)was running alongside of CJ and me while gripping his little wiener. it was an amazing sight i'm sure. but i'll ignore that, and focus instead on the fact that he made it!! just in time and barely, but he made it. and that, in the land of victorious potty training moments, is a win.
so he waits until it's just about too late every single time, calls his brother in to "see how big my poo-poo is" and fights me at nap time every day when it's time for a diaper. (i'm all about the independence, but only to a point.) but i'll ignore all of that. this guy is almost done potty training, and that is awesome.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Dear Casey Anthony,
Let me start by introducing myself. I am the mother of a two-year-old. And I get frustrated. Like when he refuses to pee on the potty, when he pretends he's a snake on the floor at the grocery store, and when he cries and whines for days on end for no reason. I get frustrated when I'm running late and he insists on buckling his seat belt by himself. I get frustrated when I have to watch the same episodes of Max and Ruby or The Wiggles 55 times in a row. And I get frustrated when he spills his cereal on the floor every single morning and refuses to clean it up. You know what I do? I send him to the Time Out chair for a couple of minutes. I walk away for a little while. I tell him he can buckle it himself next time, and I dance and cheer when he uses the potty. You know what I DON'T do? Google things like "breaking necks", "how to make chloroform" and "death".
What was your two-year-old like, Casey?
Did she mispronounce words in such a way that made you never want to correct her? Mine does. Did she throw a fit because she couldn't eat "chocolate tookies" for breakfast? Mine does. Did she ever crawl up on to your lap for no reason and say things like, "oooh, bee-u-tee-ful dress, Mama" or "I wuv you, Mama"? (Isn't that the best?!) My two-year-old sings the ABC's to me every night before bed, and always messes up in the same spot. He practices his back float in the tub. He says very funny things every single day. He insists that I "watch dis" all the time, and then always shows me the exact same "tricks". Was Caylee's favorite blanket that Winnie-the-Pooh one? My two-year-old has a favorite blanket, too. His is green. It's dirty and smelly and he calls it Meh. That was nice of you to give it to her when she died. She was probably less scared.
Guess what, Casey? They get even better as they get older. They become even smarter, less clingy, and more imaginative. They get themselves dressed, and write their own names. And they become even funnier. But you'll never get to see that.
Caylee's in a better place now. Away from you and your twisted imaginary life. A place where she can eat as many "chocolate tookies" as she wants, and sing the ABC's all day long. She has no duct tape on her face now, Casey.
Enjoy the rest of your guilt-ridden life, Casey Anthony. May you never bear children again.
Sincerely,
A proud Mama who would NEVER hurt her babies
What was your two-year-old like, Casey?
Did she mispronounce words in such a way that made you never want to correct her? Mine does. Did she throw a fit because she couldn't eat "chocolate tookies" for breakfast? Mine does. Did she ever crawl up on to your lap for no reason and say things like, "oooh, bee-u-tee-ful dress, Mama" or "I wuv you, Mama"? (Isn't that the best?!) My two-year-old sings the ABC's to me every night before bed, and always messes up in the same spot. He practices his back float in the tub. He says very funny things every single day. He insists that I "watch dis" all the time, and then always shows me the exact same "tricks". Was Caylee's favorite blanket that Winnie-the-Pooh one? My two-year-old has a favorite blanket, too. His is green. It's dirty and smelly and he calls it Meh. That was nice of you to give it to her when she died. She was probably less scared.
Guess what, Casey? They get even better as they get older. They become even smarter, less clingy, and more imaginative. They get themselves dressed, and write their own names. And they become even funnier. But you'll never get to see that.
Caylee's in a better place now. Away from you and your twisted imaginary life. A place where she can eat as many "chocolate tookies" as she wants, and sing the ABC's all day long. She has no duct tape on her face now, Casey.
Enjoy the rest of your guilt-ridden life, Casey Anthony. May you never bear children again.
Sincerely,
A proud Mama who would NEVER hurt her babies
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Goals for the Summer
I sat with the boys the other night at dinner and the conversation went a little like this:
Me: what did you guys do today?
CJ: played with Julia. Her brothers were there.
Me: Oh yeah? How old are her brothers?
CJ: Old. Like, I think 52. They're in kindergarten.
Later that night, I went to my school's graduation. My role there allowed me not only to help get the graduates ready backstage, but also to sit with them during the ceremony. As I helped pin flowers on the gowns, I'm pretty sure I got a contact high from one kid. "I hate you right now for smoking before your graduation," I told him. His response? "I know, my mom told me the same thing." And in that single moment, my mind instantly launched ahead about 14 years. Is that a conversation I might have with my son someday??
We walked down the long aisle at the theater and I watched in admiration as these young adults paraded proudly to their seats. Here it was: the moment they had been waiting for. And again, I looked around and reflected. I was seated amongst KIDS who had been forced to act like adults well before their time. KIDS who were parents, who were caretakers for their own caretakers, who left midterm exams early in order to get to a full-time job on time. KIDS living with life threatening illnesses, and KIDS wondering where they were sleeping that night. KIDS. Robbed of their childhoods. And in that moment, I couldn't have been prouder of them.
So we hugged, cheered, cried, and parted ways. Them: in to the rest of their lives, and Me: to start preparing my own kids for the rest of theirs. We've got two months together to reach some very serious goals. Yay for summer!
Goal number four- potty train Ty. Goal number three- find something to do with the mass amount of toys in this house that does not include apologizing to visitors for possibly sitting on, stepping on, or tripping over them. Goal number two- Go to the gym. A lot.
So far this summer (and it's only been two days) we've picked strawberries, finger painted with shaving cream, played with hoses, colored on the driveway, and visited with friends we haven't seen in a while. Ty's worn diapers both days, I'm pretty sure that Lightening McQueen is shoved between my couch cushions right now, and I'm waiting till tomorrow to start the whole gym routine. Why? Because Goal number one is most important to me- PRESERVE INNOCENCE. (And pray that they'll remember what a glorious childhood I gave them, and decide NOT to show up at graduation high).
Happy Summer!!
Me: what did you guys do today?
CJ: played with Julia. Her brothers were there.
Me: Oh yeah? How old are her brothers?
CJ: Old. Like, I think 52. They're in kindergarten.
Later that night, I went to my school's graduation. My role there allowed me not only to help get the graduates ready backstage, but also to sit with them during the ceremony. As I helped pin flowers on the gowns, I'm pretty sure I got a contact high from one kid. "I hate you right now for smoking before your graduation," I told him. His response? "I know, my mom told me the same thing." And in that single moment, my mind instantly launched ahead about 14 years. Is that a conversation I might have with my son someday??
We walked down the long aisle at the theater and I watched in admiration as these young adults paraded proudly to their seats. Here it was: the moment they had been waiting for. And again, I looked around and reflected. I was seated amongst KIDS who had been forced to act like adults well before their time. KIDS who were parents, who were caretakers for their own caretakers, who left midterm exams early in order to get to a full-time job on time. KIDS living with life threatening illnesses, and KIDS wondering where they were sleeping that night. KIDS. Robbed of their childhoods. And in that moment, I couldn't have been prouder of them.
So we hugged, cheered, cried, and parted ways. Them: in to the rest of their lives, and Me: to start preparing my own kids for the rest of theirs. We've got two months together to reach some very serious goals. Yay for summer!
Goal number four- potty train Ty. Goal number three- find something to do with the mass amount of toys in this house that does not include apologizing to visitors for possibly sitting on, stepping on, or tripping over them. Goal number two- Go to the gym. A lot.
So far this summer (and it's only been two days) we've picked strawberries, finger painted with shaving cream, played with hoses, colored on the driveway, and visited with friends we haven't seen in a while. Ty's worn diapers both days, I'm pretty sure that Lightening McQueen is shoved between my couch cushions right now, and I'm waiting till tomorrow to start the whole gym routine. Why? Because Goal number one is most important to me- PRESERVE INNOCENCE. (And pray that they'll remember what a glorious childhood I gave them, and decide NOT to show up at graduation high).
Happy Summer!!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Plodding Along
when i first got challenged to run a 5K back in january, i pretty much laughed out loud. let's be real: running in my world is for special occasions. like being chased by something mean and ferocious. and that is it. yet after some thought and serious consideration, i thought to myself, "why the heck can't i run a 5K? stop making friggin' excuses, and get moving". and so the journey began.
with my ipod in and my laces tied tight, i set out very early one icy morning with my fingers crossed that this insanity would be my one-way-ticket out of Chubby Land. i returned approximately 17 minutes later, red, sweaty, and thankful that i hadn't broken an ankle on the 15 thousand patches of ice that were lining the winter streets. plus, my lungs literally felt as though they were icing over. i hated running.
a week (and 3 runs later) i got a little smarter and decided to take my trek indoors, only to discover that running on a treadmill sucks equally as bad (if not worse). now, not only could the entire gym see just how slowly i was moving, but i also had the added bonus of being able to witness first hand exactly how much my chubbiness jiggles when in motion. plus, i literally looked as if i was having a heart attack. and i hadn't lost a single pound. i still hated running.
fast forward about 2 months now, and give me some credit for not only sticking with a running routine, but also increasing my stamina to be able to make it about 2 and a half miles non-stop. Ok, so maybe the word "running" is a bit aggressive. i mean, speed walkers can move faster than i can. but the point is that i was doing it. something i absolutely have never done once in my life, and guess what? i still haven't lost a pound, but... i no longer hated running!!
more time goes by, and i'm now 2 weeks away from Race Day! i'm registered, i've admitted to people (and therefore to myself) that i'm committed to doing this, and i've even got a team of people who are doing this with me. i've ordered a team shirt with the name "winner" on the back. (cuz when you hate running as much as i do, then commit to it and actually make it through an entire 3 miles, i'm pretty sure that's what you are...) and then the health problems set in.
without getting in to drawn out and pretty boring details, i'll just jump ahead to the results of a bunch of tests: i was put on freaking exercise restriction!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!! i started crying right then and there in the doctor's office, not because of the possibility of some looming illness, but because, "you don't understand. this is seriously the worst thing you can be telling me. i have a 5K coming up in 2 weeks!!!!!) whoa. NEVER did i think i'd hear those words come out of my mouth.
so i didn't get to run. (even though it turns out a lot of my issue was anxiety related, so not exercising was probably the worst thing i could have done.) there are about 500 more 5Ks that i could be signing up for this summer. think i've picked even one yet? nope. (c'mon. i said i no longer hated running. that doesn't mean i exactly LIKE it.) but before the summer is over, i will. and for now, i'll keep running (or jogging, or plodding) along.
with my ipod in and my laces tied tight, i set out very early one icy morning with my fingers crossed that this insanity would be my one-way-ticket out of Chubby Land. i returned approximately 17 minutes later, red, sweaty, and thankful that i hadn't broken an ankle on the 15 thousand patches of ice that were lining the winter streets. plus, my lungs literally felt as though they were icing over. i hated running.
a week (and 3 runs later) i got a little smarter and decided to take my trek indoors, only to discover that running on a treadmill sucks equally as bad (if not worse). now, not only could the entire gym see just how slowly i was moving, but i also had the added bonus of being able to witness first hand exactly how much my chubbiness jiggles when in motion. plus, i literally looked as if i was having a heart attack. and i hadn't lost a single pound. i still hated running.
fast forward about 2 months now, and give me some credit for not only sticking with a running routine, but also increasing my stamina to be able to make it about 2 and a half miles non-stop. Ok, so maybe the word "running" is a bit aggressive. i mean, speed walkers can move faster than i can. but the point is that i was doing it. something i absolutely have never done once in my life, and guess what? i still haven't lost a pound, but... i no longer hated running!!
more time goes by, and i'm now 2 weeks away from Race Day! i'm registered, i've admitted to people (and therefore to myself) that i'm committed to doing this, and i've even got a team of people who are doing this with me. i've ordered a team shirt with the name "winner" on the back. (cuz when you hate running as much as i do, then commit to it and actually make it through an entire 3 miles, i'm pretty sure that's what you are...) and then the health problems set in.
without getting in to drawn out and pretty boring details, i'll just jump ahead to the results of a bunch of tests: i was put on freaking exercise restriction!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!! i started crying right then and there in the doctor's office, not because of the possibility of some looming illness, but because, "you don't understand. this is seriously the worst thing you can be telling me. i have a 5K coming up in 2 weeks!!!!!) whoa. NEVER did i think i'd hear those words come out of my mouth.
so i didn't get to run. (even though it turns out a lot of my issue was anxiety related, so not exercising was probably the worst thing i could have done.) there are about 500 more 5Ks that i could be signing up for this summer. think i've picked even one yet? nope. (c'mon. i said i no longer hated running. that doesn't mean i exactly LIKE it.) but before the summer is over, i will. and for now, i'll keep running (or jogging, or plodding) along.
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