A Change in Attitude

A not so funny thing happened to me today on the way to the mailbox. Big Brother and I both stepped in dog poop. Big Brother, not knowing he had poop on his shoes, tracked it all through our living room (thank goodness for hardwood floors). Saying I was not happy is an understatement. I called the city and complained (also an understatement). I threatened to scoop it up and go put it on my neighbor's porch. The mayor and police chief came to visit us and told me they'd warn the neighbors to watch their dog. They were both a hoot about it all and by then, so was I. As they were leaving, the police chief fell off our porch, but caught herself before busting her butt. It was quite an irritating and entertaining morning.

There's nothing like a little guy to change my attitude. I went to check on Baby Jaws after not hearing him for a few minutes and saw this. He was trying his best to get Big Brother's Lightning McQueen shoes on his feet. It put a smile on my face and made me forget about my irritating, poopy day.

The Bribe

Big Brother is still amazed with preschool. He's so cute when I walk him in every morning as he just stares at everybody and everything. It's as if he can't believe he's there or he thinks it's not real. But I guess even 4 year olds can have a bad Monday morning. When I picked Big Brother up from preschool this morning I asked, "What special class did you have today?"

"Art."

"What did you do in art?"

"I cried."

I was shocked.

"Why did you cry?"

"I just wanted you."

It was sweet. Then I did what any good mom would do. I bribed him and told him if he's a big boy and doesn't cry at school for the rest of the week, he can get the Cars mini forklift he was begging Daddy for yesterday while they were out shopping. Hey, it's just a little $3 incentive. It's not like I'm not promising him a pony. Yeah, I'm still a great mom.

Five Quote Friday

These sayings are from God's Little Instruction Book for Teachers.

There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly.

What we see depends mainly on what we look for.

The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything.

If the roots are deep and strong, the tree needn't worry about the wind.

The world wants your best but God wants your all.

High Hopes

I had these high hopes in mind when Big Brother started preschool; high naive hopes.

I could just see myself being able to accomplish so much more with only Baby Jaws to deal with. I would have three hours every morning free of arguing, free of toy fights, free of boys chasing each other through the house while screaming at the top of their lungs. I would have time to clean, do laundry and do paperwork. I would have a little extra time to do some things I wanted to do. I would have some one on one time with Baby Jaws. I have had plenty of one on one time, but not how I imagined.

All I have found time for is chasing Baby Jaws to pluck him out of whatever trouble he has gotten himself into. I don't remember Big Brother being quite this bad. Maybe he just seemed better because at the time, he was the only one. Maybe I just have amnesia from all the troublesome things he did when he was smaller.

But I have another theory. Baby Jaws is just like his Daddy. From his looks to his personality to the way he raises just one eyebrow when he looks at me (which drives me crazy because I can't do it), he is a little version of my husband. Because of this, I know this is where he gets his knack for getting into everything he's not supposed to be in and making messes. And just like his Daddy, when I get onto him, he just looks at me and laughs in my face. So I realize my high hopes are just hopes and nothing more.

I hope we have more toilet paper.

First Day of Preschool

Big Brother had an awesome day a preschool! I, on the other hand, was crying as soon as I lost sight of the little guy walking down the hallway. And I cried for probably another 15 minutes after that. I think I got it all out of my system with this big first day behind us.

He was so excited this morning that he had his backpack on as soon as he finished breakfast. He walked in his room, put his backpack up and sat down in his seat like a little pro. He didn't care one bit that I was taking pictures of him through my teary eyes or that I was leaving. I am proud of him for being such a big boy on his first day of school.

Open House

We went to Big Brother's first open house at school last night. He starts preschool tomorrow. I'm very excited for him and at the same time very sad. My little guy is growing up too fast. After I tuck him in each night, I always go back in his room to kiss him again and tell him 'Good-night, Mommy loves you' after he's asleep. But last night when I went back in, all I could do was cry.

It's not as if I'm sending him away to boarding school. He will only be gone three hours a day. My friend from church is going to be his preschool teacher, for which I'm very thankful. He is going to make new friends, learn so much and have such a great time. I know all of this and keep telling myself all of this, but tomorrow morning is absolutely going to break my heart because I will have to open my house and let him take off on his own for the first time.

Supernanny

Friday night, our tv was left on with no one watching it. Now that I think about it, I don't know why that surprises me. Everyone was running in and out the front door dragging toys outside to play with while Supernanny was on in the background. You've got to love Supernanny. You've got to love how she magically turns little evil children into perfect angels within a few days while opening the eyes of their pushover parents.

I see kids all the time, at the grocery store or while eating out, acting like the kids on the previews. I'm always thinking, 'You could sure use some Supernanny up in your face.' I may not look at those kids in that way any longer. It made me wonder if Big Brother was trying to tell me I could use a little help when, while running back and forth, he caught a glimpse of the crying, screaming, red-faced little boy about his age on tv and said to me, "Hey, that looks like me."

He was right. It did look like him on any given day. Maybe we could use some Supernanny up in our faces.

Five Quote Friday

"What is right is often forgotten by what is convenient."
-Bodie Thoene

"Count no day lost in which you waited your turn, took only your share and sought advantage over no one."
-Robert Brault

"Always put off until tomorrow what you shouldn't do at all."
-Morris Mandel

"To do what others cannot do is talent. To do what talent cannot do is genius."
-Will Henry

"The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire."
-Ferdinand Foch

Dear Mr. Grocery Bagger

I'm so glad you ask if I want paper or plastic. I'm so glad you're putting my groceries in bags for me. I'm so glad you're separating my groceries for me, unlike the cashiers at Walmart (I ended up with frozen bananas by the time I got home two nights ago). I'm so glad you offer to help me to my car.

I understand that you are just a teenage boy who has no idea of what shopping with small children is like. (By the way, I said a prayer for your future wife today.) But here's a little hint coming from a mom who, while grocery shopping for any amount of time with two head strong little boys, feels like I have just entered the gates of hell:

DO NOT under any circumstance EVER ask me if I would like you to load my groceries into a regular cart!

Do you see this ginormous blue cart I'm trying to maneuver through the checkout lane? The one with two steering wheels to keep my two boys somewhat happy while I try to hunt and gather. The Hummer of all grocery carts. The cart that actually beeps like a utility truck when I back it up. Do you see it?

Do you see Baby Jaws strapped into the big blue monster? Do you see my butt load of coupons and purse sitting in said cart? Do you see me, being the multi-tasker that I am, digging for my debit card while defending the debit machine from Baby Jaws to keep him from canceling my order while trying to keep Big Brother out of the packs of gum because for the 100th time, "We have gum at home!?"

Do you see any of this? Because I think if you did see it, you would know that no, I don't want to unload, load, then unload again my children or any of my other crap! But alas, you had the nerve to ask me anyway and I had to reply the only way I knew how: with my Mommy death look. I'm so glad you understood 'the look'. You must have a great mom.

Rhyme Time

Big Brother and I have been working on rhyming words, especially while playing the Super Why game we bought him for his birthday. He hasn't really caught on yet even after I explain how the words sound alike. Well, maybe I should say I thought he hadn't caught on yet. While eating lunch yesterday, Big Brother was talking non-stop as usual and all of a sudden said with excitement, "Those words rhyme Mommy!"

"What words?" I asked.

"Turd and bird."

"Why, yes they do," I said.

I'm so proud...I think.

Realization of the Day

If my boys one day grow up and fight over a girl the way they now fight over toys, we are all in serious trouble.

But if they do one day fight over a girl, I'm hoping that this high pitched squealing that spews out of their mouths now (that only a dog and a very irritated mom can hear) will not be part of that rumble. Believe me, it's not pretty.

Oh Boy

My boys are little, but the testosterone is already rampant in this house and it makes me wonder how on earth I will ever make it as they grow older.

Now that Big Brother is four, he really thinks that he is big stuff. His new favorite thing is taking showers. He's had a few showers in the past, but loves his bath time. Since his birthday though, he has been addicted to the shower. Every night he tells us, "I can start the shower by myself. I'm four."

The other night, he turned the water on and got into the shower all by himself. I was about to help him wash his hair when he told me, "Daddy says I can pee in here. See?" Then he proceeded to pee in the shower.

I'm really hoping that as the boys get older, they won't share with me the things that Daddy tells them. I'm sure I won't even want to know. If it's a guy thing, it needs to stay between the guys.

Five Quote Friday

"Don't confuse fame with success. Madonna is one; Helen Keller is the other."
-Erma Bombeck

"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody."
-Bill Cosby

"Success usually comes to those who are too busy to be looking for it."
-Henry David Thoreau

"If your success is not on your own terms, if it looks good to the world but does not feel good in your heart, it is not success at all."
-Anna Quindlen

"I have learned that success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome while trying to succeed."
-Booker T. Washington

Snip Snip

I'm sitting here, staring at my three remaining pills, wishing I never would have taken a one of them. I'm still tired, exhausted and still entertaining Aunt Flow.

I told my husband again this morning that I'm not taking these last three pills. He said good for me and wishes I wouldn't have even taken the one I took yesterday. Then he made me cry. Well, he didn't make me cry. My crazy hormones made me cry when he mentioned if I would look up a number for a urologist, he would call and make an appointment. Of course the thought of the big snip snip made the crazy woman cry!

I say I am through having kids. My husband says he is through having kids since he has four under his belt. I love my boys and really don't know what I would do with another one, but there is a part of me that wonders about having just one more.

We have no room for one more kid in this house, but my parents didn't have any room for me in their house after two big brothers and we made it just fine. I'm not sure if I want anymore kids, but the thought of not being able to have another one because of a procedure just makes me sad.

Am I Crazy

I don't like taking medicine for anything, even a headache. I try to grin and bear it through just about everything unless I just can't take it anymore. (Just a side note that will already make me sound like a liar: I do love me some NyQuil when I have a serious cold!)

I just started a new pack of birth control pills last month after breastfeeding for a year. It just so happened that I started the pack the day after we returned from vacation. That week, I was completely exhausted and thought it had to be jet lag (truck lag in our case) from vacation.

I felt a little better by the second week, but by the third week into the pack, I was completely exhausted again. I would even nap with the boys during the day. I was beginning to wonder if I was pregnant since I was so tired. Finally, my lovely Aunt Flow came to visit last Tuesday and has yet to leave. Eight days of mega mood! I have been crying at everything! I've cried over the Cars movie. I burst into tears when I thought Baby Jaws had pooped his diaper for the fifth time in one day. I cry when my husband looks at me. I feel like a complete nut job!

After waking up this morning and feeling like I hadn't slept in two weeks, I had had enough and called my doctor to complain. The nurse told me to try to finish the pack and see if it got better. Duh, ok. Then I did what I do best; I got online and googled my pill after waking from yet another two hour nap.

Oh, the crap I found about my pill! This pill has made many, many women feel crazy, moody, depressed, exhausted and the list goes on. Of course I read the list of side effects when I first started the pills, but never thought it would be this extreme.

I'm crabby by nature, but this has made me insanely crabby (just ask my husband) for the past month. I told him today I'm not taking another one of these pills. He said that was fine with him. So, tomorrow my favorite OB/GYN will be getting another call from me. I'm going on a pill strike unless there is one that doesn't make me feel like a crazy crab. I don't like pills. I truly believe a lot of medicine does more harm than good, but that's just me. It especially does more harm when it's jacking with my hormones.

So tomorrow is a new day. A new pill-free day. Hopefully, I'll find a pill that works. If not, we'll just take our chances. I feel better at 9 months pregnant than I have felt for the past month and feel like a big dummy for not listening to my body.

Stop Yelling at Me

My husband never yells. I'm the one who yells in this family. But tonight I heard him yelling, "Use a little elbow grease!" I thought, why on earth is he yelling that? And is he yelling that at me? I'm in the bathroom. I'm not in the kitchen cleaning up pots and pans like June Cleaver. He can't be yelling at me.

A few minutes later I heard him yelling, "Backstage pass!" I finally realized he was yelling at the tv, more specifically Wheel of Fortune.

I was a bit confused because on a normal night he would have yelled, "Use a little elbow grease you moron!" I guess he was trying to be nice tonight. I wish he would have added the 'moron' tonight then I would have immediately known he was yelling at a clueless contestant instead of thinking he was yelling strange demands at me.

Woot

So maybe I'm a little too old to be saying 'Woot'. My nieces are always posting it on their Facebook page. They're young. They can get away with it. But today, I'm saying 'Woot'!

Baby Jaws (my just turned 14 month old last week) who has been scooting (never once crawling) on his butt (he's really fast) for the past few months, finally took his first step today. Woot!

This is a photo of him in mid-scoot as he puts his right hand down, lifts his leg and plops his butt back down as fast as he can go. The funny thing is Big Brother used to get around the exact same way.

I'm so glad Baby Jaws has finally realized he can move his feet without holding onto anything. I will miss the little scoot when he finally gives it up for good. I won't miss the dirty right leg that I have to clean every time we go visit someone with dirty carpet. I won't miss the little scratches he gets on his right leg from scooting in the driveway (nothing stops him). I won't miss the dirt he scoops up in his diaper while scooting around the yard. But I will miss that little scoot.

But my baby took his first step today! Woot!

Five Quote Friday

"Live so that your friends can defend you but never have to."
-Arnold H. Glasow

"The truth of the matter is that you always know the right thing to do. The hard part is doing it."
-Norman Schwarzkopf

"You can measure a man by the opposition it takes to discourage him."
-Robert C. Savage

"If a small thing has the power to make you angry, does that not indicate something about your size?"
-Sydney J. Harris

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

People Are Crazy

I try to be a nice person. I really do. It's just that sometimes, some people make it very difficult for me to do so. I don't have much patience for idiots (such a strong word). Maybe it's better said that I don't have much patience for people who possess absolutely no common sense whatsoever.

I found an old email today while cleaning out my inbox. This email is from someone who responded to an ad I had placed on Craigslist to sell our old dining table and chairs after we bought a new set. I never deleted this email because I laughed at it and forwarded it on to friends asking, "Can you believe this?" I still can't believe it, but admit that sometimes, it does bring a smile to my face to reminisce about this common senseless wanna be Craigslist buyer.

Here is the email and I quote:
"Hi, I'm going to take a stab at this. My fiance and I are interested in your dining table and chairs, but don't have the $40 for it. We have a wood table with two chairs, with two drop leaves (one at either end) that we'd be willing to trade. Also, we're unable to pick up, as we're both blind and therefore don't drive (they won't let us on the road). If there's any way you'd be willing to trade, that'd be awesome. Also, I'm a childcare provider, and would be happy to trade some free childcare if you've got kiddos. Thanks much for reading my long-shot of a message. :)"

Wow. Really? You really have some gumption there trying to get me to give you the table for free. Heck, you would even trade a smaller table with two chairs? Sorry, but that won't fly at this house of six. So just in case I'm not feeling sorry enough for you just yet, you add that you're blind? I'm sorry for that and certainly wouldn't wish that for anyone. Wait, wait. This is where I lost any pity that I may have had (though I don't think I had any to begin with). You're a childcare provider? You want me to give you my table and chairs and you will in turn watch my children for free? How pray tell would you watch my children, being blind and all?

Come to think of it, that sounds like a fair trade. I will be glad to deliver my old dining table, four chairs and my two only children to a complete blind stranger I met online. That doesn't sound a bit dangerous, but that could be my best shot to be on the 10 o'clock news. "Breaking news: Woman is robbed by an apparent blind couple and tied to a dining table, with two drop leaves (one at either end)."

You just can't make this stuff up. Billy Currington says it all in his new song and it's all I have to say about it too, "People are crazy."

Why Do I Torture Myself

Yesterday, I took Big Brother to have his picture taken at the gigantic box store that I love to hate. All I wanted was a cheap portrait package to have enough pictures to hand out to everyone and their dog. I swore I would never put myself or my children through this again, but there I stood trying to be nice, half laughing at the photographer's dumb jokes. It took all of my might not to say any of the following:

I just want one, good, plain picture. No cheesy balloon background. No happy clouds.

I have thousands of pictures of him on my flash drive much cuter than the one you just snapped.

I really hate that you're wasting your time taking 18 photos of my kid when I'm just here for the $7.99 butt load o' photos package.

I couldn't care less if you can make a sepia border or write his name in burnt orange, especially not now that I can smell what Baby Jaws just created in his pants. Can you smell it too or are you too involved in your creative process of typing 'Happy Birthday' over my child's legs in the ugliest font I've ever seen?

I don't need a life-size poster of him to hang on my wall. I get his little life-size body in my face waking me up every morning.

If I had $367 extra to spend on a photo package, that $367 would not be spent on a photo package.

I truly admire your initiative in trying to sell me a cd of all these school picture quality photos for only $119.

No, I don't think I need your $99 picture frame for my photo when I can just walk back a few aisles and get what looks like the exact same one for around $12.

Can you tell my 4 year old birthday boy is getting restless? He just told you himself, "I want to leave!"

Please, stop with the funky borders.

Oh, for the love of Pete woman, can you not smell the poop?!