BlogVentures of James and Stella

Silly Faces

2012-01-27T19:15:00.000-05:00

Things I Love

2012-01-20T21:09:00.000-05:00

James: I love you, Sissy.
Stella: I love you, Bubba.

James: Daddy, remember when I was little?

Stella: Momma, I lika your scarf. I wear it when I get bigger?

* * * * *

I've been quiet on the kid front lately. No because life has been quiet. QUIET - er, quite - the opposite.

Stella and James have grown into best little friends. I am proud of them. They are good kids, smart monkeys, sweet and wild. I love them more every day. [I am driven more crazy by them every day.] I hear my Mother in my words... everyday. If you don't come here right now.... If you look at me with those eyes... Watch your mouth, young lady... Sigh.

Being a parent is hard. The hardest thing ever? No. I think it's the combo of marriage + work + parenting that makes parenting the hardest job ever. I think everyone underestimates the strain on a marriage - the strain that only children can bring. But you work through it, find time to love the meaning in a solitary afternoon of grocery shopping in peace. And actually pulling off a full time job along with it? It's no wonder I can't remember anything.

For example, I have no idea what time my son and daughter were born. No earthly clue. James was 4am-ish, and Stella was 7pm-ish. That's all I've got. Some mothers might find that deplorable.

Instead, I know these numbers: 1 husband, 2 kids, 14 months apart, 3 loves of my life. Really. Who cares about the rest?

Parenting is work, work, poop, work, small glimmer of cuteness, more work, barf, poop, smile, laugh, poop. It's difficult. No one tells you that.

That quote from the movie with J-Lo, the "Back-Up Plan" always strikes me. A guy on the playground asks another dad about being a parent. His response is: "[Parenting] is awful, awful, awful. Then a small moment happens, that's so magical, and that makes it all worthwhile."

I think that sums it up. Like marriage, like anything worth having... parenting is hard work. Something you have to pour your mind, heart and resources (!) into. Costs money than I EVER would have believed. I am more tired than I ever thought imaginable.

But more sweetness than humanly possible.

Things I love? I love these babies. I love my husband. I appreciate our blessings.

And when sometimes I think otherwise...just from the sheer exhaustion... I stop, close my eyes and imagine life without them. And I always end up in tears and praying for forgiveness for the mere thought.

I love you, J, J and S. I love you even when I forget to say it.

Train Museum & Happy 3rd Birthday, Stella Rae

2011-12-30T21:05:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow (New Year's Eve) is Stella's 3rd birthday, but we celebrated today with a trip to the train museum. The last time we went to the train museum, it was horrific. Summer. James on the brink of the terrible twos. This time was alot of fun.

After the train museum, the Expert and I scurried around like crazy people for hours trying to get Stella's "big girl room" ready for take off. Mission accomplished, and six hours later, we still can't get that child to go to sleep. Happy third birthday, Stella Rae. My lawd, how we love you.

And big thanks to Mia & Papa for the fabulous birthday outfit.

Big Girl Room

Christmas

2011-12-30T20:44:00.000-05:00

Quiet Christmas, just the four of us.

'Twas the Night Before

2011-12-24T13:46:00.000-05:00

Today, we mailed the letters to Santa with the list of things the kids wanted for Christmas. Good thing they are almost 3 and 4... with no sense of how slow the Post Office is.

This year Christmas is just the four of us. Me, the Expert, James and Stella. And my headcold. So five total.

While I think the quiet time will be nice, I am going to miss our family big time, I can feel it already. The Expert is still rolling out the red carpet for meals... tonight, the Christmas Eve tradition of cioppino (seafood stew), and tomorrow, a giant rib roast with horseradish crust. So much for dieting.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas!

Saw This...

2011-12-23T10:47:00.000-05:00

.....and Immediately thought of the Expert. He's a good father. A very, very good father. And I love him. Lots.

Sweetness.

2011-12-20T20:38:00.000-05:00

After an exhausting day of activities...

...came the sibling sweetness.

Merry Christmas....

2011-12-14T19:38:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas, y'all.

Happy Birthday, Expert

2011-12-07T20:13:00.000-05:00

The Expert turns 35 years old tomorrow. There is a high likelihood that I will be stuck working late tomorrow, so the kids and I planned a "fabulous" birthday party for him this evening.

Okay, so really, I'm a better photographer than liar. This is a more accurate representation of the party.

Yes, I gave my husband $10. That's actually a big deal at this particular moment in time.

Two helpers setting the table. The use of the word "helpers" is a little loose.

Opening cards. Actually found an Iron Man card for James to give; a princess card for Stella. They did great decorating them. Putting them in the envelope...not so much.

Dude. We ate ALOT. I have to complement myself on the food... I am not the typical chef in the house, but the "Surf 'n' Surf" I made was downright yum. Maybe because I've been dieting. Again. And anything that isn't Greek yogurt and blueberries sounds delish.

Well. Happy 35th birthday tomorrow to the love of my life, the cake on my icing (ha), and the dude that always makes me laugh. Love you.

And no night is complete without bedtime stories. The kids love the stories the Expert tells. When I try and tell stories they stare at me like I have three heads.

The Expert is a good dad. No one can ever say anything different.

Christmas Chaos

2011-12-05T19:11:00.000-05:00

"Mom, I don't understand how this tree came into my house."

"I hang ornament on door, my mommy."

"Stella, this is the giant Santa I told you. You need to be scared of him, because

he is scary with his big beard, but he's really nice still and scary and big. And he drinks coffee.

Do you want coffee, Stella? When you get bigger?"

Sassy Sass

2011-12-04T09:29:00.000-05:00

I have got one intense girlie girl on my hands. This little girl wakes up in the morning, and heads straight for her clothes, heels, boots and tiara.

I have done little to no prissy encouragement, and yet, she's a super girlie girl. Yes, she spends mornings watching me torture my eyelashes and eyebrows, paint "the barn door" (as my dad always says), and put on jewelry. Maybe that's enough.

I was never a super girlie girl. But over the years, I've become a slighty more girlie woman. So maybe we'll be the mom daughter team who shares clothes and shoes. I hope not. I hope she's way too thin to wear my clothes.

And the way she treats shoes... we'll have to cross that bridge when we get there.

Thanksgiving & 'Tis the Season

2011-11-27T15:30:00.001-05:00

Mia and Stella

Pre-Thanksgiving fun.

Mombow and the Monkeys snapping green beans. Love.

The Expert does the Big Bird. Awesome meal. I love this man.

Papooh and the babies.

Ready. Set.

Grub. Turkey, creamed collards, cheddar scallion biscuits, macaroni & cheese,

mashed potatoes, tomato gravy and creamed collards

More grub.

The arrival of "Pickles."

Thompson Tree Farm.

Mia and Papa.

The ominous "beef-a-lo."

Mombow, Papooh and Me.

Feeding the goats.

James: "Mom, I had a good time at the Christmas tree patch."

Stella: "Look Mia. Itsa gooooat."

Post-tubby snuggles.

The Clan (minus the Photog)

Maze of trees.

Sitting by the fire.

Wishing for more.

Love.

Princess Stella.

Decorating the tree.

Stella's two ornament placement.

Sweet Monkey.

Ta-da.

Time to Rest.

Thankful Feast

2011-11-18T18:47:00.000-05:00

I went to the kids' Thanksgiving "feast" at school today. This was an added bonus to the nearby job - being able to actually appear as mom... instead of Aunt Mommy. [We'll ignore the fact that when our nanny left, Stella cried for her. Ugh.]

Still, it was a great time. Stella's feast was first at 11. All the little munchkins walked into the gym in a line, dressed as little pilgrims and native americans (how's that for PC)... and Stella was stoked to see me. And I was STOKED to be there.

We had a nice little lunch, and she hugged me at least 50 times. I felt very blessed to be there.

After I stuffed my face at Stella's feast, it was time for James' lunch. The last few times I have been to school with James have not panned out so well.

This went off without a hitch.

I truly enjoyed being able to take time with my children today.

PS - Today is my 32nd birthday too. Funny how ridiculously unimportant birthdays are as a real live adult....

INK

2011-11-12T15:58:00.001-05:00

Trip to INK in Gainesville with the kids today. Pretty cool children's museum that touts itself as a hands-on Children's Museum. True to form, there was a cow to milk (faux cow), a fire truck, police car, pretend dentist office, doctor's office, courtroom, classroom, vet's office and radiology.

The kids thoroughly enjoyed and were adequately worn out. Although I think I am more tired from being the "patient."

And I got to see my best good friend Beth and her munchkins too.

Lunch at Mellow Mushroom. I'm pooped.

Suited Up

2011-11-09T19:20:00.000-05:00

Something about me coming home.... equals children trying on every piece of clothing I take off.

I turned the kitchen corner tonight to find some serious clothing craziness.

Smoking Robot

2011-11-05T10:41:00.000-04:00

I got the Expert a Weber smoker for our anniversary. Today, he started putting it together. The kids were way into "helping."

Next thing I know, the Expert is telling them that it's a Giant Smoke Robot who makes meat. Well, it was a huge hit, and the kids are now talking to the GSR (Giant Smoke Robot).

Making 70.3 Thousand Wishes

2011-11-01T20:32:00.001-04:00

When the Expert and I walked in from our 70.3 Ironman trip, Stella looked at me and said, "Oh Momma. You run? You ride your tricycle? You swim?"

The lesson of all this triathlon craziness is for our kids. I know triathlon seemingly takes from the children. But I can't buy that nonsense either.

The kids know we run, we bike, and we swam. And that makes them automatically predisposed to move. It's normal, and that makes me feel - that the time away is worth it.

I make wishes every day that this babies will never worry about their weight, their self-image. That it won't be an issue. Life is hard enough without that. I pray 70.3 thousand prayers for that.

Plus, Superman and Belle tend to be awesome anyway.

Super de duper thanks to Mia and Papa for watching the monkeys. We are blessed beyond words.

"Stella, you are so pretty," the Expert tells her.

"Yes," she says. No self-esteem issues there. (Love love love).

Happy Birthday, Boy Monkey

2011-10-24T21:52:00.001-04:00

I was going to wait until midnight to post this or save it for tomorrow - on your actual birthday - but that would require a few things of which I am currently incapable:

1) staying up past 10, or
2) remembering to post it tomorrow when the day becomes insane.

Instead, I post now.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear James -

Happy 4th birthday! Four years ago, you came into this world with a vengeance.

You ate like a crazy baby. You pooped like a machine. You wore me out beyond words or grunts or snorts. Did you ever sleep? Ever? Ever?

Four years ago, my world was rattled and it continues to rock.

I am still tired from you. But somehow, I never tire of you.

I love you, boy monkey. Thank you for showing me what real love, sacrifice and craziness is. I thought I knew. But there's nothing like a baby boy to prove to me one big thing: I know absolutely nothing, will never remember anything again, and... don't care a lick about that.

I am proud of you. You are sweet, kind and sensitive. You feel and see things that other four year olds don't. And you are a stinker beyond words (figuratively and literally - those toots - whew.).

You will always make me work to keep this family rotating. I can see that. But there's a method to your genius little madness. You keep me in check. You make me prioritize.

And for that, I appreciate you on a deeper level than "hey you're my kid and I should love you." You are destined for big things. I feel it down to my aching bones.

I like when you saying things like, "Mom, you're my best friend, like Gossie & Gertie" or "Mom, remember the day I was born?"

Sometimes, I think you actually do.

So on your 4th birthday, I love you more than ever.

My life started the day you were born.

Love,
Me

Big Boy Business

2011-10-22T19:00:00.000-04:00

We celebrated James' 4th birthday quietly (a few days early due to time constraints)...but we did it well - with a surprise big boy bed unveiling.

The Expert took the kids away for the morning and I was to paint James' bedroom.

Well, I finished that. (But not before finding a pair of little baby socks under the dresser. That, coupled with hauling his toddler bed downstairs, caused a little waterworks.)

Before

So I finished painting. And I was waiting around. The Expert was going to put the bed together in the afternoon, but I was impatient.

I wandered into the garage and looked at the giant boxes. Slowly, I unpacked the bed, hauled mattress and boxsprings upstairs. It was a sight - me dragging all that stuff upstairs by myself. I hauled the toddler bed, the train table, and junk downstairs.

Finally. I was so happy to have his big boy room complete.

And after cupcakes and "happy birthday" song, the little guy was happy too.

He said, "Oh cool! I love my big bed!"

(Stella ran to her room to see her "big girl bed." :( I told her, she'll have hers for her birthday. Still, that broke my heart.)

Happy Birthday, buddy. I love you.

Artsy Fartsy

2011-10-11T19:53:00.000-04:00

When I get home from the work in the afternoons, the children are like wild banshees. I decided that we would start doing craft projects in the afternoons, to help them wind down before dinner. Tonight, I picked up some foam sheets and craft paper for impromptu caterpillars.

As I cut out the circles, the kids assembled their respective caterpillars.

I am in love with the end products, which are total reflections of their personalities. I am in love with these kids of mine.

James:

Stella:

Pumpkin Patch!

2011-10-08T14:49:00.000-04:00

Oh, we love a pumpkin patch... we actually never miss a pumpkin patch. This year proved no different at Randy's Pumpkin Patch in Lawrenceville, which came complete with bouncy house, petting zoo, and pony rides. Hot dog hot dog hot diggity dog!

Hotdogs in Blankets

2011-10-06T17:56:00.000-04:00

Poor baby girl has had a time of it over the past two days. Something got ahold of her (bug bite, so sayeth the Doc). She is "fine" but she looks like someone took her out in a boxing match.

The one on the top was yesterday, and the one below is today. So there is some improvement.

What a mess, tho. And heartbreaking. She wasn't in pain. Her eye was bugging her, but she was okay. But to look at her... she was just pitiful.

To help distract things, the kids and I made "pigs in a blanket." Only this time, I really let them go at it. Check out this fine looking batch.

My favorite (courtesy of Stella):

James said after eating five... "More hotdogs in blankets, please!"

Stella said, "More ban-kets!"

A Southern Kid's Rite of Passage

2011-09-24T16:40:00.000-04:00

The County Fair.

The Expert is out of town. Well, out of "town" is a bit of an exaggeration. In Australia. Out of the side of the world.

The Gwinnett County Fair is in full swing. The Expert hates the fair. I have some pretty fond memories of the old trashy fair. So I decided to take the kiddos this afternoon.

$5 entry for all of us? What? That's a deal.

Then comes the tickets. $1 per ticket. Each ride is 3 tickets times 2 kids = $6 a pop. Whoa.

4 rides, two ice creams, and a lemonade later... I am near broke, and no toys/prizes have been bought. Oooops.

Luckily, I am able swindle a Carnie out of a Dora ball, two snake swords and a giant blow-up shark for the deal of the day: $8, and the last dollas I had to my name.

We had a great time. :) Really. :)

Friday

2011-09-23T19:42:00.000-04:00

The Expert headed to Australia yesterday, my parents' house caught on fire on Wednesday (yes, really...horrific....awful....awful...), and our nanny's mother is ill... so hence comes crazy land. I hate when the rug feels like it's starting to slip...

For a break, I took the kids to dinner and then for a jaunt around the block.

An ankle-biter dog ran at them, and you wouldn't believe the drama-rama those two kids showed... "aaaaaahhhhh!! doggggggg!!!" It was insane.

We have "Champ" in our house this week - the class "pet" from James' class. I'm having flashbacks of Oreo. Oh how I love parent homework assignments. Love love love.

Should be a fun weekend. Maybe. If we all survive.

I love these kids. They are so amazing and sweet. They are busy. Crazy. Loud. But happy, healthy and sweet. I am blessed beyond words.

My parents survived what could have been a devastating event to their health and their lives - it's going to be a long road for them, to get the house back to anything close to normal... but I am so glad they are HERE. It could have been bad.

Broken Fixes

2011-09-13T20:15:00.001-04:00

Stella broke my heart tonight.

We finished saying prayers, singing the "Annie" song (them from the movie, Annie), and doing the night night rituals. She sat on the edge of her bed, and looked at me.

Stella: Mommy?

Me: Yes?

Stella: I miss you.

I burst into tears.

Stella is our baby girl, going on three. She just started talking super clear the past few weeks. We treat her like a baby, and let her jabber, and learn everything by osmosis from her brother. She is super smart, but James gets the credit for being "smart" and she is "pretty" - at least that's the reactions I've learned. But she is smart. Way smart. Oh, so smart. She can county to "ach-teen" (eighteen), skip nineteen and twenty... knows all her ABCs, and manages to be quite insightful, intuitive and downright heartfelt.

Hence tonight. She blew me away. She's never said anything like that.

I should have seen it coming. She's told me a few mornings, "Bye Momma, I love you." Today, when I got home from work, she went into the bedroom to change clothes with me.

Stella: You go to work today, Momma?

Me: Yes, ma'am.

Stella: You have fun, right?

Tonight, Stella and I talked. After I gathered myself like a big girl, after she said, plain as day Miss you.

Me: Do you want to hear a story?

Stella: Yeah.

Me: Once upon a time, there was a little girl with big brown eyes.

Stella: I have eyes!

Me: ....and curly brown hair...

Stella: Looka my hair, Mommy.

Me: ....and she was beautiful and her name was Stella.

Stella: I'm Stella!

Me: ....the thing about Stella is that she's also very smart... she knows her numbers...

Stella: (holding up her fingers) one-two-three----

Me: ---and her letters, her ABC's.

Stella: Yes, yes. I have Abby-Cs too.

Me: Stella was such a smart girl, she went to school for many years. Sometimes she closed her eyes and squinched her face and dreamed of being exactly what she wanted to be. She liked to ride her bicycle---

Stella: --- I pedal fast!

Me: --- she liked to dream.

Stella: Yeah.

Me: This Stella knew that she was able to grow up and be strong, smart and exactly all she dreamed. Strong and smart. And happy. Happy above all, because she knew how to dream. And to live her dreams.

She and I stared at each other for a bit. [Probably because I was saying things that made no sense to her in all of my drama.]

It's easy to roll along with the second child. Stella was always easier and simpler than her brother. She didn't get near the attention, but more likely because she didn't demand it.

Doesn't mean that baby girl doesn't require or deserve it. Doesn't mean that I don't want to give it. It's just a matter of feeding the screaming mouth, and passing over the quiet one. [Not that she's quiet...anyway. You get the point.]

The guilt of working, my heavy triathlon training, the day-to-day garbage and everything else slammed into me tonight. Stella may miss me.

But tonight I realized just how much I miss her too.

Labor Day

2011-09-05T19:20:00.000-04:00

Fun weekend visit with Mia & Papa! Ate too much, laughed too much.

Tonight, Labor Day was concluded with a little song by James:

"Row row row your boat

Dump in it in the stream

Mary Mary Mary Mary

Life seems like a sneeze."

School's Back

2011-08-29T10:01:00.000-04:00

Today was the first day back at "school" for James and Stella. I didn't drop them off, because they tend to wail, gnash their teeth and cry like crazy if I come within ten feet of the school. If they see me...they want to spend the day with Mom, not teachers.

However, when our nanny drops them off, they are usually just fine and understand that tons of *fun* is about to happen at school.

Our nanny just texted me and said, "Tons of tears and screaming from the other kids at school, but James and Stella were happy as two peas in a pod."

I love that about those monkeys of mine. James and Stella, despite the fact that they are nuts, seem so well-adjusted, roll-with-the punches type kids. We usually have a sitter come one day on the weekends, in the morning, so the Expert and I can go on a bike ride for our triathlon training.

The kids have a blast with the young girls who come to "play" with them, and the Expert and I can get a few hours of "us" time. Then when the Expert and I return home, we take the kids to the pool, ice cream or whatever they want to do. It feels like a balance that way.

Last night, at bedtime, James looks at me and asked: "Mom, who's coming to play with us tomorrow?"

I was heartbroken at first, thinking, OMG how sad that my kids think they are always getting left.

However, right after I started feeling bad, James says: "I really really like you, Mommy. And I really really like all the friends who come play with me and Sissy. We play with bubbles, and coloring, and have stickers and...."

Of course, that doesn't award me the "Get Out of Mothering Free" card, but it does make me feel a little better.

I want my kids to love me, to want to spend time with me. But to have fiercely independent children is also very important to me. So I think... so far, so good.

I can guilt myself to death about being a working, triathlon training, blogging, busy mom. But with all my endeavors and tons of different "jobs," I hope the kids can see that life is busy and most of the time... you gotta entertain yourself and roll with the punches.

They are good kids. I am proud.

A Big Giant Fat Whale

2011-08-28T16:17:00.000-04:00

I love love love love this picture.

"It's a big giant fat whale," James says.

My kid can SO draw better than your kid. Hahhahahahhha!

Rapid Fire Thursday

2011-08-25T17:21:00.000-04:00

Stella and James are exiting the dark zone. What I mean by the "dark zone" is the terrible toddler years. I can almost feel myself breathe. (Almost). They (sometimes) listen to my instructions. They (sometimes) eat their vegetables. They (sometimes) are sweet and don't hit each other.

The conversations between the two of them are hi-lar-ious. They use little catch-phrases they have picked up along the way, in completely inappropriate places, and it's tickling.

For example, last night, James tried to open the door and couldn't because he had lotion on his hands. The Expert stepped in front of him and opened the door for him. To which Stella responded, "Good job, Daddy!"

And they jump conversational topics like rapid fire.

Just a few minutes ago, here went the dialogue:
James: Stella remember the time you were a little girl? And you cried like a baby?

Stella: I no cry, Bubba.

James: Yes, you did, oh yes, you did.

Stella: No way. You go to timeout.

James: You have a snack, baby dinosaur. Sit down baby, dino!

Stella: Snack?

James: Sit down, baby dino! Here's some peanuts! Cookies, animal crackers, and you can eeeeat if you want.

Stella: Mmmmmmm! [Acting like dinosaur]

James: Be a dino like this Stella!

Stella: NO! I am dinosaur, Bubba. I eat! I eat!

James: Let's go to school. You are the teacher!

Stella: I in class. Yes, class.

James: I forgot! I am late!

Stella: Oh, no Bubba.

James: You be a sheep, Stella. Say "Baaa!"

Stella: Baaa! Baa!

James: No, Stella... Baaaaaaaa! Not "baa baa"!

Stella: Baaa! Baaa!

James: Stelllllllll-uh, no. Go see Mommy.

Birds

2011-08-21T20:02:00.000-04:00

The Expert decided that he would cook game hens for dinner.

And he would give each kid their own hen. I told him, There is no way they are going to eat that. No way. No way.

Well...I've been wrong before.

And the Expert is right. Again.

James: Oh, my. Look at this bird!

Stella: Yes!

James: I eat his leg.

Stella: I eat leg too!

James: This bird is tasty, Mom. You gonna eat your bird, Mom?

Stella: Eat! Eat! Eat!

I'm rolling my eyes. I can't believe it. Hilarious.

Healthy and Fearful

2011-08-09T20:00:00.000-04:00

I was put in touch with the story of baby Caden and the Stanley Family via a blog. A new baby boy, born with a heart defect, now in the critical period post-surgery. Things like this make me feel grateful, but sad and completely and utterly unworthy to have the happy (yet crazy) and healthy children we have.

I showed James pictures of baby Caden on the computer, and we prayed for the baby.

Me: Let's pray for baby Caden, okay?
Stella: Yes, the baby.
James: Oh, okay, that baby looks like Stella.
Stella: Stella! That's Stella baby.
Me: That baby is sick and we need to pray for him, okay?
James: Yes, let's pray for the sick baby.

[we fold our hands and pray a little prayer]

James: Remember when Stella was a little baby?
Me: Yes, I do.
James: She was not sick.
Me: You are right. We are very lucky.
James: I was not sick too. Except the time I burped. Remember when I burped, Mom?
Me: Yes, baby. You and Stella are very healthy.
Stella: I not sick.
James: No, you not sick too, Stella. And Mom, you not sick, right?
Me: That's right.

And round and round we went, just as usual, only this time the conversation turned into a fight about James being less sick than Stella ("I not sick!" "No, I not sick, too!").

My two healthy happy kids...fighting over who was less sick.

The Expert's maternal grandmother, "Nannie," is in and out of hospice care right now. The babies do not know she is sick, because I think it's just too early to convey this kind of sickness to children. We are all praying for her to pass out of this life with peace and no fear, no pain, with the sense of a life well-lived. My mother-in-law is watching her and tending to her, and I know this time is full of fear for both of them.

Times like this, I find that I am holding my breath in worry. More than I realize.

I have complete faith in God. I trust Him to lead me, my family in the right direction. And I have never been led wrong, and I have found nothing but blessing after blessing poured on us. Yes, there have been terrible, trying times. This time with Nannie is painful for our family - and what my mother-in-law is going through is indescribable.

Then there is the Stanley family who is suffering...and others who have lost husbands, wives, and babies...and children....and adult children.

I just fear it all.

So, with this post, I guess I aimed to write yet another post about gratitude. But also a very honest word about fear.

When life is good, I fear that God (or life, or happenstance, or an idiot driving down the road) is going to say, You had your shot. You weren't appreciative enough. Now, time for the rollercoaster. I fear that the rug will be yanked from beneath me, and I will be hit with the heavy hand of tragedy.

Fear, fear, fear. Then I see this photo/icon on the Stanley blog.

Be still. Wait. Quiet.

If the Stanley family can be still in the face of what they are suffering... then I sure better learn.

Bedtime Bandits

2011-07-30T19:59:00.003-04:00

The kids are insane before bed. In-sane. They run around the house like their pants are on fire; usually straight out of the tub - slick, naked little crazed lunatics. The Expert was outside getting the bikes ready for a ride tomorrow, and I was practicing my zookeeping with the kids.

Me: James, you need to settle down, get in your bed, and wait for me to come back while I put Stella to bed.

James: I don't like you, Mommy.

Me: Well, I'm sorry you feel that way.

James: I like Daddy. I don't like you!

Me: Well, somebody has to be the bad cop.

James: You are a BAD cop, Mommy.

2011-07-30T18:50:00.001-04:00

Always glad for Daddy to play.

Chitter Chatter

2011-07-24T20:38:00.006-04:00

James: Mom, this is my sister. This is Stella.

Me : Yep, I know her.

Stella: My bubba!

James: Awwww, you're my sister, Stella.

Stella: Yesss.

James: Stella, you remember when I was a little baby?

Stella: Yes, bubba.

James: Oh, good.

Stella: Yes.

James: You remember when Mommy was a little girl?

Stella: Yes. I 'member Mommy.

James: Oh, that's good, Stella.

Bedtime

2011-07-18T20:22:00.002-04:00

James sneaked down the stairs again tonight.

Me: You need to go back to bed.

James: But I need to go potty.

Me: Oh, well, that's good...thank you for telling me!

(Goes potty)

Me: Now, back to bed.

James: Mom?

Me: Yes, James.

James: After I go to sleep, I can wake up?

Me: Yes, baby.

James Oh, okay. That's good.

Bananas

2011-07-14T18:40:00.000-04:00

Seriously? If children are quiet, there's a reason.

There's also a reason I think my children are actually real, live monkeys.

Swirly

2011-07-10T18:45:00.000-04:00

The fam was eating dinner this evening, when the all familiar scream of "I HAVE TO GO POTTY" sounded out from James. Usually, we just let him go to it.

Tonight, he took a little too long, but we didn't think much about it. James comes out of the bathroom, and sits down at the table.

Me: James, why is your hair wet?

James: Mommy, my hair is sooooo wet! Ha! My hair is wet!

The Expert: James why is your hair wet----

Me: ---oh no---

James: My hair went in the toilet, Mom!

The Expert: Did you put your head in the toilet, James?

James: Yes, I did.

Blueberries & Alma Mater

2011-07-09T19:29:00.000-04:00

Took the kids blueberry picking today. I realized that I hadn't posted anything in a long time on this blog. But really, all we've been doing with the kids is taking them to the gym and to the pool. Who wants to read blog entry after blog entry about a pool?

The blueberry picking was fun, but super hot. The nice thing about the blueberries - James picked them, and didn't have to fib about it (this time).

I understand why blueberries are so expensive now. Takes alot of picking to get a little container. We fared pretty well, though.

Three potty breaks later, we hit the road again. On our way out of the farm, I realized we were only fifteen miles from Athens, so I begged the Expert to take us to RuSan's for lunch. It's a sushi/Japanese food place. The kids ate sushi with chopsticks, and it was sooooooo good. I felt so happy to be in Athens for the day.

Then, I figured we ought to introduce the kids to our alma mater and do the traditional pictures under the Arch at the University of Georgia.

Finished off by taking them on a tour of the Law School (another potty break really), where I told them several times not to even think about becoming lawyers.

Oh... there was a dinosaur spotting at the Arch...

In Her Shoes

2011-07-01T21:16:00.002-04:00

I love this baby girl. Miss Stella Rae. Miss Muffett. Miss Trouble.

I had a new Nine West box of shoes arrive, and Stella was digging in with greedy little fingers as quickly as I could unwrap. She may not look a lick like me... but she's like me.

(Don't mind the naked baby dolls in the background).

Oh My!

2011-06-27T19:02:00.000-04:00

James: Come with me, Stella! We go to the forest and hide from the dinosaur!
We gonna get out a here, Stella! The big dinosaur!

Stella: Oh my!

James: Quick Stella, get in the house! (hiding in pantry)

I walk over to the pantry, open the door and say, "Out of the pantry, you two."

James: Run, Stella! (pointing at me) Get out of here! It's a GIANT! Run!

Stella: Oh MY! A GIANT.

Thanks guys. Thanks alot. :)

Friday Nite Funny

2011-06-24T20:01:00.000-04:00

On our way home from the Mexican restaurant, the Expert stops at the store. It's raining, and crazy outside.

Expert: (to the kids) You guys be quiet as a mouse for Mommy. (shuts car door)

James: I not be quiet as a mouse. I not a mouse.

Stella: I mouse.

Me: I'm a mouse, too, Stella!

Stella: Me an Mommy ki-et mousies!

James: No!

Stella: Yes yes yes, Bubba. Me an Mommy ki-et mousies!! Mousies!

James: No, not quiet mouse. I quiet like a rhinoceros! I quiet like rhinoceros!

Stella: (thinking) Dude, no nos-erous!

James: Mom, Stella said "dude."

Father's Day 2011

2011-06-19T20:24:00.000-04:00

Happy Father's Day to all the dads I love. Here's the monkeys decorating daddy's Father's Day gift.

Here's the monkeys presenting daddy with a dutch oven. Yes, it's true. The Expert wanted a dutch oven. (Don't ask why the children have no shirts on. I have no idea.)

And last, but not least. Our official potty trained boy is a genius when it comes to pulling up his pants after going potty.

BlogVice: Veg a Kid Will Eat

2011-06-15T17:33:00.000-04:00

Check out these little gems from Whole Foods (also available at www.justtomatoes.com).

These puppies are just a pair in a whole line of "freeze dried vegetables," and the kids LOVED them. We have tried the persimmons and peas. The persimmons taste like candy, and the peas are packing in seven grams of protein (!) Highly recommend.

Yes, but they are pricey. Whole Foods = Whole Paycheck.

Me Ike You Too

2011-06-09T22:17:00.000-04:00

James: Can I watch "Annie", Mom?

Me: Sure. I like Annie.

James: I like Annie too. I like you, Mom.

Me: You do? That makes me happy!

Stella: Me I ike you too, Momma.

Sunshine with a Beard

2011-06-07T18:50:00.000-04:00

James: You put this on the fridge. I drew it for Mia.

Stella drew her picture for Daddy. And then subsequently crumpled it up and put it in her diaper.

Oh, we're all so surprised.

A Picture is Worth...

2011-06-06T17:31:00.001-04:00

....an improv drumstick tail and one knitted glove in the summertime.

And what animal are we pretending to be?

That would be a dinosaur. Specifically: "Mom, I'm a dinosaur wearing a glove."

Freaky

2011-06-05T17:49:00.000-04:00

Stella can escape from any child-proof contraption. She escapes from her room at night. Freaks me out. It's bad, because she doesn't say anything. She doesn't leave her room and scream down the stairs, "I'm outttttt!" or "look at me!!!"

Just all of the sudden, there she is. Escaped from upstairs. She appears... by the light of the moon, Poltergeist-style, staring at me... saying nothing.

The other morning at 4:45am, I heard her bang her door open. So I knew she was coming. I went into the hallway. There she sat, quiet, with a caterpillar toy, staring at me like a total horror movie character.

Why am I scared by my own kid? Oh, yeah... because it's just plain freaky.

Timeout

2011-06-05T16:20:00.003-04:00

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am fine if everyone wants to spend the entire Sunday in their respective Timeout Chairs.

Update on ODDness

2011-06-04T09:32:00.000-04:00

After writing about James and his alleged ODD, I have received so many emails and comments from all of you with encouragement, ideas and questions. And the occasional: "yeah, I know a kid with ODD and he's ruined everyone's lives. Good luck with that." I really liked that one. Helpful stuff.

And...don't you like how I call it 'alleged' ODD... have to keep the record clean in the event of a misdiagnosis....

Anyway. Life is so good. I now work a hop-skip from the house...no more hideous commute. I like my new job. The Expert is happy. The triathlon training is back on track. But most importantly... my boy is happy and healthy and improving (and so are we, as parents). We took a trip down to Savannah over Memorial Day (which normally would have caused me to gauge out my eyes from the road trip with a defiant child), and it was mostly uneventful in terms of whining, ODD behaviors and general disobedience. It was the nicest trip we've ever had with James.

Yesterday, we had an appointment scheduled for James' therapy. The long story of it: the Expert couldn't get James to the appointment on time (I was meeting them there), so the Expert took James back home. I was sitting alone in the waiting room of a child psychologist's office, not really sure what to do. Hurmph.

The doctor came out. I said, " I'm without kid and husband, so I guess I'll just pay you for the session and be on my way."

"Well," she said, "Why not make the best use of our time?"

So we did. I chatted with her for the session time about things that were working with James and things that were not. But I was mostly stunned with the fact: most things are working. James is doing wonderfully.

The best part of the therapy was discussing discipline and techniques with our girl Stella. She is two, and not nearly as terrible as some (ah-hem) two year olds I knew... but she's posing her own set of defiance and difficulties.

The magic about the Parent Child Interaction Therapy is that it can be easily applied to kids without any issues... I consider it almost a parenting philosophy that is coupled with a set of principles that are consistently applied, and that's that. You always hear things like "kids need boundaries, and they love having boundaries." Cliche. But accurate.

I never had trouble declaring my boundaries (you will not do this and you will not do that!).... But now I am learning how to enforce the properly-defined boundaries, while lifting up the spirits of my children (not setting them up to fail or be labeled disappointing).

I am so blessed. James goes swimming now. He plays in the sprinkler. He gets dirty. He says "please." He says "sorry" (and means it). He fears timeout for the first time ever. And I no longer have to throw toys outside. We went to Mexican last night, and he ate and clapped to the music, and danced. He is a totally different boy. And I am a totally different mother.

I have always loved my children. But for the first time in a very long time, I can say that I love being a mom... and mean it.

Happy Memorial Day

2011-05-30T19:40:00.000-04:00

Nothing says happy like a watermelon.

ShamWow!

2011-05-30T17:43:00.000-04:00

After a great (but tiring) traveling Memorial Day weekend, the Expert and I were disappointed to learn that the ShamWow! does not actually absorb children (or laundry).

The Balance of the Sexes

2011-05-23T20:39:00.001-04:00

I love this Instagram app for the iPhone. Oh, and I love the iPhone. But duh. That's not even worth posting. Everyone loves their iPhone. Old news. But I love that this app creates fabulous artsy-fartsy photos with a click of a phone...stuff that used to take hours to obtain in PhotoShop.

I haven't blogged about the monkeys in a while. Not because nothing has happened. Quite the opposite actually. Just crazy land.

We had a bit of the battle of the sexes here in the Zoo tonight. James is more or less potty-trained. He still hasn't figured out the no-poo-in-the-pants thing. But how about a big boy standing up to pee? His father is so proud.

For standing up to pee, he got two mini M&Ms.

Stella is near potty-trained. She tried to stand up to pee after watching her brother; didn't want to take "no" for an answer. Finally, I pointed to James' uh, thing, and said, "Stella, you don't have a pee pee, see?" She scrunches her face, sits down on the potty and pouts.

After peeing in the potty, she was awarded one M&M by the Expert.

Then it struck me. My baby girl was actually just subconsciously punished and denied the extra treat her brother was awarded....for her lack of weiner!! Oh, hell to the no!

Of course, this was absolutely not intentional. Still. An announcement was made: the M&M situation was the last time someone in this house is awarded simply for having a wee wee.

To which the Expert aptly responded, "Oh yes, because we with weiners are rewarded all the time around here."

Still! How careful one must be when raising boys and girls together. How unbelievably tricky. The smallest thing, like an extra M&M for standing up to pee... who knows the consequences and hours of therapy later in life.

James: I went pee pee in the potty, Stella!

Stella: I pee too, Bubba! I potty tooooo.

James: I have pee pee weiner, Stella!

Stella: No!

James: Yes, I do. Do you have weiner Stella?

Stella: No! (thinking) You go time out, okay?

James: No! I no go to timeout. You do.

Stella: No! I go potty! Now! Okay?

James: Okay, Stella. Good job!

We had a stressful but lovely weekend. Anyone with kids understands precisely what that means.

Nice, sunshiny day at the local Lifetime Fitness; a fabulous dinner with friends and family on Saturday night... the two events which were smashed in between lots of baby brawling and kids with runny noses, less sleep than is human.. etc..etc...

Still, for once in my life I am enjoying the hot weather... and enjoying a son who is doing fabulous in the way of being more manageable every day. We are pretty darn religious with the therapy and the discipline, and I am just plain grateful for the leaps and bounds we are seeing.

Until next time...

Yes, Really...

2011-05-18T20:06:00.001-04:00

I couldn't make this stuff up ....no matter how hard I tried. Approximately twelve hours after Poo Brownies, here come the Poo Pods.

In the mere eleven seconds Stella was sans diaper on the way to the tubby... she stopped to lay down a few pumps on the bike pump.... then....

Plop. Plop. Poo drop.

Poo! She Didn't!?!

2011-05-18T18:35:00.000-04:00

Take a look at this picture.

We woke up to Stella this morning. Apparently baking her own special brownies in her room. Beautiful scoops of brown. Scoopity-scoops scoops.

Oh no she didn't. Oh yes she did.

Poo! Nice! A spoonful of poo here, a spoonful of poo there...

The rest of the room was a terrible tragedy also. The baby girl's pajamas were pinned, but she still managed to remove her diaper and run it face-down on the floor... make a fabulous floor poo painting, along with poo prints all over the place.

Check out my favorite rocking chair. The horror.

And this is my sweet baby girl. Post-poo bath, and post real bath. She said she was cold. Really, I think it was a chill from the exhausting evil work she just completed.

Stella McMullet

2011-05-08T19:25:00.001-04:00

She starts out perfectly fine.

Then the Expert does her hair.

I present to you, Stella McMullet.

Happy Mother's Day

2011-05-08T08:52:00.000-04:00

Even after well over three years and two munchkins, I still have no idea what motherhood means or how to be a good mother. I know what motherhood has done to me (heartattacks, wrinkles, more fat than I had before). But gracefully and effectively handling motherhood and raising kids? I am lost as I can be.

I find being a mother to be an incredible sacrifice. I am no longer the pilot of my own plane, but more like a bird that gets caught in the plane's propeller, survives, and heads straight back for the plane again.

But I find motherhood to be an enormous blessing. I got the kids up this morning (yes, the husband is still sleeping... how did that happen on Mother's Day? That's another blog for another day....), and the cutest girl in the world greeted me: Stella was sitting in her rocking chair, rocking her naked twin babydolls, and she said, "Hi Momma! I gots the babies. Babies are sweet!" Then she picked out the cutest tutu skirt to wear, and we went to get her Bubba up.

After walking in his room, James immediately said, "I have to go potty"... and so he did, right on the potty (and so did Stella!) And not only that, he woke up with a dry diaper. That's a happy Mother's Day: potty trained kids.

I never thought my weekends would be broken down to blocks of potty time and screams of "you did it! you went peepee!" But this is it! My life as a mother is in full swing. And today, is a beautiful day. I have two precious kids sitting at the table, working puzzles. At this second, there is no drama or fighting. I am immeasurably blessed and lucky.

Happy Mother's Day to all the wonderful women in my life. I love you.

Beautiful Day

2011-05-04T17:13:00.000-04:00

It is only through labor and painful effort, by grim energy and resolute courage, that we move on to better things.
- Theodore Roosevelt

We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we often forget that he is someone today.
-Stacia Tauscher

You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance.
- Franklin P. Jones

Boy, n.: a noise with dirt on it.
-Not Your Average Dictionary

Our genes make us immortal.
-The Secret of Life, PBS

It's not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. I can't tell my children to reach for the sun. All I can do is reach for it, myself.
- Joyce Maynard

Parenthood is the passing of a baton, followed by a lifelong disagreement as to who dropped it. ~Robert Brault

A new father quickly learns that his child invariably comes to the bathroom at precisely the times when he's in there, as if he needed company. The only way for this father to be certain of bathroom privacy is to shave at the gas station.
- Bill Cosby

Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you. ~Robert Fulghum

Human beings are the only creatures on earth that allow their children to come back home.

- Bill Cosby

Batteries

2011-05-03T19:42:00.001-04:00

James, after bumping his elbow on the doorframe:
"Owwww! My arm hurts. My arm is broken! It needs batteries."

The Boss

2011-05-03T17:50:00.002-04:00

Stella: (to James, after throwing a puzzle piece on the ground) Pick it up!

James: No way, Stella!

Stella: (looking at me) Pick up, momma.

Me: You pick it up, Stella Rae. You are not the boss of me.

James: Yeah, Stella. You not boss!

Stella: Yes!

James: No, Stella! I the boss!

A Girl Just Feels Better in Heels

2011-04-28T18:36:00.000-04:00

Stormy Angels

2011-04-27T21:02:00.000-04:00

Last time we had a major afternoon thunderstorm, James was pretty freaked by the "funder." The Expert, in his infinite wisdom, told the three-year old not to worry, that thunder was the sound of the angels flapping their wings.

Ah-hem.

James' eyes grew huge. He contemplates the Expert Angel Theory ("EAT") for a second. And then, he is freaked out more than before. "I no like the angels! No!!! No funder, Momma!!!" Poor little guy's hands are shaking.

He's clearly thinking of scary giant angels (the kid is smart -he's thinking if something makes that much noise, it's gotta be massive). Scary giant wing-flapping plane-sized angels.

Poor James. "Noooooo!" he continues.

Stella then chimes in, sensing his distress, "Nooooooo ain-ells!! Noooo!"

They are both wailing. Great. Way to go, Expert. (He feels terrible for the record, and no, I do not drag him through the mud for it every time there's a storm... moving on.)

The giant wing-flapping angels appeared that same night. The "funder" came back, and James was begging to get in our bed. The Angels. Drats.

Well, we have some pretty nasty storms brewing and moving towards us tonight. The kids are both in bed, but I am praying (first and foremost) for safety for everyone.... and secondly, that those angels will keep their stinking noisy wings quiet tonight.

Easter Art

2011-04-24T11:40:00.000-04:00

The Bunny was good to the Monkeys. Lots of art materials for super de-duper Easter art. Happy Easter, everyone from our zoo to yours!

Smiles & Tears

2011-04-23T23:10:00.001-04:00

Me: I love you, buddy. Goodnight.

James: I love you.

My folks are in town. James and his adventures in ODD have been going well. The parent-child interaction therapy seem to be heading in the right direction.

With my parents in town, the master schedule was disrupted and James did not like the result. He wasn't terrible today, but today posed some new challenges. The day was long, the tantrums were mid-to-high-zone 1. I was tired of it. The Expert had worn. Why does James act this way...and...only for us?

At bedtime, Mia tucked him in. I poked my head into his room after I tucked Stella in. I looked at James. He looked at me. Mia went downstairs.

For the first time, during all of this recent difficulty, I felt an unavoidable sensitivity/softness towards James. Not that I have spent this time blaming him for the ODD. Not that I have been rude/cruel/mean to my toddler... but perhaps I have been a little stand-offish. But, really.... I have "love buddied" him to death, hugged the life out of him, but maybe it was more motion than truth.

Not that I haven't loved him. But maybe you understand.

I made eye-contact with that boy tonight, after Mia put him in the bed. I sneaked into his room, and I said, "Hey."

Ever since I've noticed a difficulty with James, I've been Aibeileen Clarking him to death with, "James is a smart boy. James is a kind boy." (from the book, the Help).

Tonight, I sneaked into his room. Touched his face, and told him, "You are my best boy."

He smiled at me, "Yes, I am you boy."

"I love you, buddy," I said, looking him straight in the face.

He smiled. He smiled. He smiled.

"I am. Your boy. Momma," he said.

My boy smiles alot. But sometimes, he doesn't smile on cue, or on feel, or at appropriate times. He smiles when he deeply feels it. That's James. He is dealing with some things, some ODD things. But today, I felt he loved me.

Today, I felt that he smiled because he wanted to....he smiled to let me in. That's something for which I can shed some tears.

Thank You, Calvin Klein

2011-04-18T13:17:00.000-04:00

The kids really enjoyed coloring on you.

Operation Easter Photos

2011-04-16T16:21:00.000-04:00

Here's a sneak peak (with my camera) of the photo shoot for Easter pics. The kids were happy and enjoyed the real bunnies. I, on the other hand, broke out in hives from the rabbits (ahhhhhh chooo!). Can't wait for the real pics.

Impromptu Pigs

2011-04-14T21:04:00.000-04:00

The never-ending dinner question. Last night, I had some baby hotdogs in the fridge. I had a can of biscuits, but not the fancy crescent rolls. Just cheap little biscuits. All wrong for pigs in the blanket.

Oh well. I popped open the can of biscuits, cut the biscuits in half horizontally and rolled away. 400 degrees, 8 minutes and gourmet dinner was served.

Sick looking little critters = massive hits with the monkeys.

Pigs Before:

Pigs After:

Boy, That Kid is ODD

2011-04-13T20:52:00.001-04:00

I have been struggling with whether to bring up something about our kid. I pondered posting anything at all.

Have waited three weeks, and today, I decided to just blabber it out.

Because, really, this blogventure is something important. Maybe some of you will have some good ideas, encouraging words or laughs for me. Because right now, I don't think alot of it is funny.

Our three year old son, James, is full of baby brilliance. He's exceptionally smart, often funny, and most of the time....difficult. If I were to divide up James' areas of expertise, it would be as follows:

20% Fun, Sweet, Joyful.
80% Not.

Shock. Disappointment. How could I say this about my kid? How dare I? Yes, I am aware of those numbers. Not alot of fun times with James. How could I say this? Well, for starters... because at this moment in 2011....these numbers are true. But these numbers only apply to me and the Expert.

For James' teachers, nanny, and grandparents, James is about 90% Fun, Sweet, Joyful and only 8-9% mischievous, and 1-2% evil. So what gives?

I post alot of things about James, and his funny defiance, his tantrums, his fits. And sometimes, they are funny. But in reality, what is behind the scenes at my house: these outrageous behaviors have been the norm, not the exception. James is more likely to throw a fit, than not. He is guaranteed to freak out from putting on his shoes, his shirt, his clothes. From taking off his shoes, his shirt, his clothes. From getting in the tub; from not getting in the tub. He will undoubtedly scream at the top of his lungs when told no, and responds with, "You don't tell me no!" or "I don't like you, Mommy!" which may be followed by a tantrum lasting as long as forty-five minutes. Screaming, throwing toys, hitting his sister, the cabinets, the floor. Tantrum-a-palooza. The instant a plate of food is put in front of him, he begins to scream or cry or yell. No matter if seven seconds before he said, "I want pizza" and it's exactly pizza put in front of him. The pizza is too big, too small, too hot, too cold.

It's like freaking Goldilocks around here, and the bears are attacking.

And really, on and on it goes. Difficult from sun up to sun down. I can't throw my bag on the counter when I return from work before the screaming starts.

He's three and a half years old. And this is James. He was a screaming, hungry, insatiable, fussy baby from day one. And now, over three years later - I just have an older, bigger version of the same exact baby. Only one that now knows words. Mostly "no" and "I not" and "I don't care."

Everything about James is a beautiful difficulty. He is perplexing.

Again, this behavior is only for me, his father, and sometimes now, his grandparents. He has only had two outbursts (ever) for our nanny, and two "naughty" incidents at school. But around his close family, he's a terror on two precious little legs.

I have read books and articles. I have booked and articled myself to death. Birth to toddler age. Babywise. Sears. Happiest Baby on the Block. Baby Whisperer. Super Nanny. The Strong-Willed Child. The Difficult Child. Nurture vs. Nature. And on and on. Blogs, clippings, podcasts, volumes.

Simple requests for obedience are ignored. Small issues like, "Let's go to the table and eat," are responded with a screaming voice: "I DON'T WANT to eat right NOW!" Crazy land.

Time Out doesn't touch him. The Naughty Stool was thrown back at us. The Naughty Mat was torn to shreds. Taking away a treat or a toy was laughable. Mr. Spoon lost his effectiveness very quickly. And when Operation "Throw that Sh*t Outside" ultimately failed, the Expert and I were lost.

The Terrible Twos were long gone. The Terrible Threes were halfway over. And we were looking at our beautiful boy, who was completely out of control. Again, only for us. His teachers, nanny and grandparents saw none of this.

On top of general disobedience, we've noticed tendencies of what Google and I could self-diagnose as obsessive/compulsive and downright nutty.

I started reading some more. I cringed when I watched the show "Parenthood," thinking that some of James' tendencies seemed Asperger-like. Was it an Autism spectrum?

After a two month wait list, we wrangled our toddler to a specialist/psychiatrist in the Atlanta area (so many things wrong with this statement, I know, I know). The Doc listened to us about thirty minutes and said basically that we were terrible parents. Okay.

Terrible parents. Okay. Maybe I could accept this... if he had some suggestions for how not to be said Terrible Parents ("TPs"). I asked this question out loud.

To which he responded, "I suggest play therapy... for James."

So let me get this straight, Doctor. We are terrible parents, but you are suggesting play therapy for our son? We are terrible people, but the kid is the one needs the therapy? Where's your medical license? I need to tear it up.

This was back in December. The Expert and I were upset/furious/annoyed. The Expert told me on the drive home from that appointment: "We are not going through that again." I tended to agree. Oh, and don't forget the peanut gallery in the car seat in the back. He was also in agreement: during the forty-five minute drive home, James announced his disapproval by screaming the entire ride.

What started the post-awesome appointment screaming, I'm not sure.

I do know that he had a bag of chips. I had a bag of the same chips. He wanted my bag. I gave him my bag, and took his - a fair trade. Nope. That didn't work. I gave him both bags. I took both bags. I waved the bags. I hid the bags. I sang a song. I made a joke. I ignored him. I cried.

He just screamed and cried for the rest of the ride, no matter what I did with the chips. I daydreamed, quietly wondering how bad it would hurt if I threw myself out of the Pilot doing 85 on I-85.

Christmas and New Year's came and went. My rope was nearing the end. James wasn't improving. My terrible parenting was apparently continuing. The Expert's was no better. Clearly. Because to use the cliche "downward spiral" was an understatement. I ramped up the funny blog posts. I told ridiculous stories to my co-workers, laughing about it all. Essentially, I preferred being at work to walking in the door to take crazy forms of abuse from a three year old. The louder James screamed, the more I shut down. The more I yelled. Or both. Even the cool, calm and collected rope of the Expert was short. When the Expert also started screaming, I knew it was time for something else.

Time to find a new rope. To hang ourselves. To start over. One or the other. Didn't matter at this point.

Enter new psychologist. Three hour meeting. Careful observation. Careful listening. Slews of questions. Three solid atta-boy tantrums for the psychologist. Perfect.

Turns out that we are not actually terrible parents. We are parents. We are working, busy, not-know-it-all parents who needs some assistance with how to juggle life, full time jobs, a second toddler, and handle a sensitive, difficult situation with our oldest.

Turns out James isn't a total social misfit. Appears that he's just a kid with a behavioral/sensory disorder, the cause of which is genetic, environmental or perhaps fault of the parent. Or all of the latter. No one knows the cause. After being in this therapy for three weeks, I agree that the factors are most likely a special combination of all of the above.

Diagnosis: Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Also known as "ODD." Thanks for the special acronym, psychologists across the world. Yes. ODD.

And yes, the title alone seems like the simple translation of "Kid Who Won't Listen." And yes, precisely. That's what we have. There may be some sensory/OCD/perfection complex issues with James as well, but one bite of the apple at a time.

So ODD. The typical characteristics:

Actively does not follow adults' requests
Angry and resentful of others
Argues with adults
Blames others for own mistakes
Has few or no friends or has lost friends
Is in constant trouble in school
Loses temper
Spiteful or seeks revenge
Touchy or easily annoyed*

*Courtesy of PubMed Health

Bearing in mind that James is a toddler, some of these do not apply as much as others. But some are dead on.

And so our therapy began with James about three weeks ago.

And this therapy stuff is so stinking obvious, I could slap my momma. Maybe not really, but you get the point. Why didn't it occur to me that a stubborn child's behavior is not going to be touched by a stubborn mother's wailing?

Also known as Parent Child Interaction Therapy (PCIT), the Expert and I are working with James in small five minute sessions. And the program is just as it touts: parent-child interaction. The therapist provides the Expert and I with specific ways to talk, work, play, discuss, and discipline James.

The theory behind PCIT is that the therapy will improve the quality of the parent-child relationship and change the parent-child interaction patterns.

What a powerful statement: to improve the quality of the parent-child relationship and change the parent-child interaction patterns.

And I had, in my search for "curing" the "problems", read about PCIT and half-heartedly tried the techniques. I felt so stupid that I moved on to the next cure. So those of you who feel like posting some BS about how I "should have known about PCIT".... thanks, but I did. I just messed up the application. Thank you.

James was barely fourteen months old when Stella was born. Prior to Stella's birth, I would waddle my huge, pregnant self home in the afternoons, plop on the floor in the playroom, and James would cuddle up next to me. We would read, quietly... play....chatter. For hours. He would get frustrated sometimes. But not all the time. Yes, he still didn't sleep through the nights (until he was 2). But he slept through some nights.

Enter Stella. Welcome no-more-time-to-lay-on-floor-and-devote-all-time-to-James. This was a strike against me, in James' eyes. Most likely, if I were (again) self-diagnosing this situation, I would say this was a huge turning point. An unavoidable turning point, as we tried to include him and provide special time. Just as anyone does with a new baby. But never again would he have the continuous hours of only Mom/James time, each and every day. It was gone.

James loves Stella. They love each other. They are very precious siblings, even when they fight. But a fourteen month old doesn't understand. And now, a three-year old still doesn't understand. James doesn't understand that I have to cook dinner. He doesn't understand my angry reactions. He doesn't understand my frustration directed at his complete meltdowns.

All he knows: tantrums and general craziness lead to attention. Attention (negative or otherwise) is attention, and he wants some. Simple as that.

And the way to encourage, talk and interact with James is like a cartoon. I have a handout that has 100 ways to encourage a child. One of which includes the phrase: "That's Super De-Duper." And there you have it. I am reduced to "super de duper."

So here I am. And the Expert. In therapy with my three year old. What a mess. And technically, one may think "what an embarrassment."

But I don't think it's embarrassing.

Afterall, what's more embarrassing? Letting this issue/situation grow to epic proportions, or taking steps to resolve it at age three instead of age thirteen (or thirty. Ah hem.)? Telling all my readers just in case there is one small family out there who can benefit from "you are not alone"? I am not embarrassed. I have been the best parent that I knew how to be. James has been tough from the beginning, and he's been the only kid he's known how to be. I only brought intuition and past experience to the parenting table. Both of which were very low for me.

James, of course, cannot be blamed. I do think about 40% of James' current situation ("genius" [of course], frustration, humor and temper) is innate, nature, just the way it is. He's another dog named Rover, an apple falling not far from this tree. Still. This apple tree was never this difficult. So. I think the Expert and I, as parents, are pushing the other 60% of the ODD train (and I am clearly the Caboose). Therefore, it's up to me (and the Expert) to shape him, build him up, and make our family work.

Our family simply wasn't working.

But the change in our family after only three weeks is dramatic. I am learning how to talk to James. I am learning how to un-react. Un-react is a term I created for myself. Don't you love it? Yes, I do not react to James in the same way. I ignore the tantrums, I turn my back physically to the whining (no matter if it takes 45 minutes to stop). So, the "un-reaction" is actually me not reacting, and working to undo the three years of reaction I have put forward. He is responding pretty well to the interaction, the techniques.

Granted. We still have a very (very/very/very) long way to go. Tonight, we only had one minor tantrum, and I was feeling great. That is, until the thirty-five long tantrum hit. Still, that's better than four tantrums. Or twelve. Or infinity.

And the psychologist says it's going to get worse before it gets better. Whoop there it is.

The kid may be ODD. But that's may be the partial fault of some overly obsessive, over-worked, serious NERDs for parents (make up your own acronymn) and a whole back chain of OCD/Type A personalities in his blood.

The combo makes for an interesting world, to say the least.

Stella got the calm, hippie genes. I can predict our own struggles with that free-love, party girl: "Stella. Quit taking off your clothes and put down that beer."

Ah-hem.

Through all this, I am peeling back so many things about James, about myself. He is so beautiful. And smart. And strong. And strong-willed. He is funny. And happy. Really. Under all the fits, there is happiness. I see glimmers and glimmers.

I decided. I am just going to scoop all these little things up...and put them in a jar like lightning bugs... to watch each characteristic bang around and shine. Because while each trait may be a weird little light by itself, the combination of all these lights is the radiant little spirit that makes up this precious boy.

We'll figure it out. I am mostly humbled by changes that we all must make to save our little family. And I am mostly grateful for the opportunity to embrace these changes. A sort of second chance.

Thanks for listening, ya'll.

Annie

2011-04-10T14:26:00.001-04:00

As a child, I was obsessed with the movie Annie. Now, it warms my little grinch heart to see my son, sitting on the couch, watching the original version... and muttering the lyrics to "It's a Hard Knock Life." Oh, how it warms my heart.

My Mommy!

2011-04-10T13:13:00.001-04:00

I'm sitting at the dining room table about to start a little work after this morning's bike/run. The Expert just took off for his bike ride. The kids are happy - coloring/stickering/stamping on either side of me while I work. I am listening to their conversation.

James:   I have more stickers than you, Stella.
Stella: I no stickers. Bugs.
James: I want bug stickers.
Stella: Oh, okay. Here. Bubba.
James: Look, Mom. I have bug stickers.
Stella: Okay.
James: This is my Momma, Stella.
   You can't have her.
Stella: My Momma!
James:   No, this is my Momma, Sissy! No!
Stella: My Momma!
James: No, Stella!
Stella: My Daddy!!!
James: No, Stella - Daddy is riding his bike to work, okay?
Stella: Okay. My Daddy!
James:   No! You go to timeout, okay?
Stella: My Daddy.
James: My Mommy.
Stella: My choo choo train.
James: No! Don't say that.

I'm watching this dialogue like watching a close tennis match. What a hilarious duo. It's nice to be fought over. "My Mommy!"

Ridiculous Chatter

2011-04-08T09:06:00.006-04:00

Me: James, Stella - no hitting each other!
   If you hit, you are in trouble.

Stella: No, hit!

James: Stella hit me.

Stella: No!

James:  Stella hit!

Stella: No, I no hit.

Me:   The next person to hit is going to bed.

James I don't want to go to bed!

Me: Then don't hit each other.

James: No!

Me: We are not going to hit. Do you understand?
Be nice to each other, and good things will come to you, okay?

James: I don't WANT good things come to me!

Stella: Yeah.

Thought

2011-04-04T12:20:00.000-04:00

Although my life if far from calm, I feel like today is the calm before some crazy impending storm.

I hate when I feel this way. Not because it is annoying, but rather, almost always the feeling is correct.....

Where Socks Go to Hide

2011-04-02T16:14:00.000-04:00

The Expert converted Stella's crib to a toddler bed this afternoon And subsequently, under the mattress, found all the missing socks from the last year. Oh, and a tiny poop nugget. Excellent.

Fashionable Faux Pas

2011-04-02T10:31:00.000-04:00

Yes. This is James. Red hair bow. Shirt on backwards. Socks with sneaker sandals. (And don't forget the tantrum).

I really love this phase.

While I explained that he can't wear the bow to the YMCA, I did tell him he could wear his shirt backwards. What do I care. I mean, really.

Frankly,.... after three and a half years of constant crazy, if a tiny little hair bow will stop the screaming......

Stuck Like Glue

2011-04-02T08:43:00.005-04:00

Enjoy the sweet dance moves. Ignore my messy kitchen.

I love this girl of mine.

Escape Conspiracy Theory

2011-04-02T08:37:00.000-04:00

Last night, The Expert and I secure the troops in their respective beds and walk downstairs. I go into our bedroom (which is on the first floor), and the Expert is watching television.

I hear noises upstairs. A few minutes later, I walk out of the bedroom to see James and Stella playing in the living room. The Expert looks at me, startled, and immediately confused.

"I thought you were upstairs and let them come down," he says.

"Nope," I say. "Clearly, I was in the bedroom. They escaped."

We look at each other. Then we both look at Stella. James never leaves his bed. And we have a doorknob protector on the inside of his door, just in case.

Stella!

Here's the conspiracy theory: Stella climbed out of her crib. Opened her unprotected door. Walked down the hall where (here's the kicker) she then opened her brother's door, and undoubtedly the convo went something like:

Stella: Okaaaay, bubba. Down'tairs. You go.
James: You come in my room, Stella?
Stella: Yeah.
James: Oh, okay. Let's go.
Stella: Yaaay!

Thirty seconds after that. The kids have re-joined the party. And we have yet another adventure in terrible two land....

Aunt Mommy

2011-03-23T17:00:00.000-04:00

I was a stay at home mom today. Playing trophy wife isn't really fun when: I need to be at work, and I'm not a trophy.

Regardless, I had three hours to accomplish some work while the kids were at school. As I drop the kids off, two of the teachers re-introduce themselves to me. Again. Even though I have met these people several times now.

I love being made to feel that I am oh-so-uninvolved.

I love it. Love love love. Love it.

Drop Off #1:
Teacher:   Hi, uh, who are you?
Me: Oh, um. I'm James' mom.
Teacher: Oh, the Mother. Nice to meet you.
Me: Actually, we've met before.
Teacher:   (thinking) No. I don't think so.
Me: Well, we have.
Teacher: Huh.
Me: Alrighty. Well, I'll be back to pick him up. Me. Mom.
Teacher: Okaaaay!

Drop Off #2
Teacher:   Oh, welcome. And you are...?
Me: Stella's mom.
Teacher: Wow! Okay! Nice to meet you.
Me: Actually.... nevermind.
   Nice to meet you, too.
Teacher: We just never see you, that's all.
Me: Yeah. Just call me Aunt Mommy.

Don't Forget the Lyrics

2011-03-21T20:12:00.001-04:00

My son is upstairs singing, "I like to move it, move it...I like to move it, move it." Funny, but I'd like for him to sleep it, sleep it.

Oh, wait.

Now, I hear him singing the words to James Taylor's "Sweet Baby James." A song that I have been singing to him since he was born. I think it's brilliant that he, at three years old, knows the entire song. Of course, really... he should.

But what is most brilliant is the look on Mia's (grandma's) face when he sings the lyrics.

My mom listened to James sing over the weekend. He spouted out the lyrics, and she looks at me, horrifed and says, "Why are you teaching him to sing that song!?!"

He sang:
"As the moon rises
He sits by the fire
Thinking about women
And glasses of beer."

I smile at her.

She says again, "What song is this???"

I grin. "What, Momma? 'Sweet Baby James'?"

Even at thirty-one, I can't resist getting a rise out of my mom. And I wonder why God gave me that crazy son of mine...

The Sweet Baby James lyrics episode was almost as good as when mom thought we were giving James a "Bud Lightyear" toy for his birthday.

Pants Off to You

2011-03-21T19:13:00.001-04:00

James and Stella's refusal to wear pants is really causing concern. Hopefully, I can remedy this before the teenage years.

Life Overwhelming

2011-03-21T15:00:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I find myself overwhelmed to the point of tears. Parenting, I know, is a large part of the overwhelming sensation. The frustration, the pain. Parenting, I always blame. But then I think back to five years ago... I was often overwhelmed to the point of tears back then.

And there were no children around.

And ten years ago. At age 21, I was overwhelmed. No kids. No mortgage. No debt. No lawyers (ah, the good ole days). Still frustrated and overwhelmed.

And five years before that. And before that. Still overwhelmed. About something. I was born with a sense of overwhelming, I am certain.

Hypothesis: I am the type of person who will often find herself overwhelmed, irrespective of the time, place and circumstances. This is because: (a) I have the bad habit of consistently taking on more than I can handle; or because (b) I am just a regular old Chicken Little who is easily overwhelmed.

(a) or (b)? Who knows. Probably depends on who you ask. Most likely, I am a little bit of both.

I am not sure what triggered this post. Maybe just a self-reminder to step back, be thankful and breathe a little.

Today feels good.

But I know that, in time, I will find another issue to overwhelm me. So I tried to make a distinction today between life and circumstance. Life as a whole shouldn't overwhelm me. Sometimes I think "oh my life is impossible," when really it's just the present circumstances or period of stress that feels impossible.

My life is wonderful. The day to day circumstances may smell a little, at times (mostly of poopy diapers). But life? Good. As for the circumstances that overwhelm me, I want to roll with the punches a little more gracefully, and think about the big picture, the beautiful life, its tapestry as a whole...

I want to be like this, just a little more often. To appreciate the small gifts, to open my ears and be still.

"If you were a house, this is where you would want to be built. On rock, facing the sea, listening."
-from the movie, Life as a House

Happy Monday, everyone. I hope this week is beautiful.

My Favorite Child

2011-03-17T13:35:00.004-04:00

Hubabaloo is spilling out in the mom blog world from this article: "Mom Confession: I Think I Love My Son a Little Bit More." I see where the writer, Kate, attempts to go with the article, but she fails to make the confession in a way that makes people empathize with her. Because some things, no one wants to read. Here, she loves her son more than her daughter. She loves the youngest, snuggly kid more. She blames it on the lack of bonding with her oldest daughter at birth, the difficulties with her first born, la la la la.

Facts, which are all surprisingly similar to James and Stella (only my son is the oldest). James is a fighter - has always been. Stella is a lover - has always been. James is by far the more difficult child. Stella has been easy from day one.

The author, Kate, writes a follow-up article, wherein she defends herself as "I Am Not a Perfect Mother" and explains that the article was offensive to people because: "It probably struck a little too close to home for many of you…you’ve had those same thoughts about one or more children in your darkest, most private times…and found it obscene to see your own worst thoughts out in the light of day."

Whoa nelly. Now, thems just fighting words. I can just imagine the Perfect Mothers of the World uniting (oh, I'm not invited either, don't worry), lighting a candle, and praying for this woman. Now.

I think Kate missed the boat from the get-go. The name of the article should have been: "Motherhood Sucks So Bad Sometimes, that I Don't Like Either of My Kids."

The misstep in Kate's article is the failure to distinguish between "love" and "like".

I have two children. My Favorite Child is whichever one of the two is being good and not giving me hell at that given moment. I like James when he's hugging Stella, reading quietly, playing hard and being sweet. I do not like him when he's being a total tool, pain in the ass, brat of a three-year old. I like Stella when she's carrying around her baby doll, kissing her Daddy, and sucking her thumb. I do not like the child when she's the postergirl for the Terrible Twos, biting the ever-loving crap out of her brother, and I'm stuck worrying that she's going to carry on that nonsense at preschool.

Yes, I have two children. Who I love exactly the same. My like for them, however, is a giant, swinging pendulum which changes as quickly as Stella can strip off her diaper and run out the front door.

But the love for my children is woven into the very fibers of my being, and that love is the same for both of them. And yes, I think instinct is absolutely tied to love.

Think of it this way. I am walking down the middle of the road with a child on each side of me. Some danger comes across my path (truck, bus or alien landing). I'm not going to protect one child over the other. Rather, I am going to throw myself into the danger and push both of them out of the way.

Oh, and there's always the organ donation test! I have two kidneys and two kids. Each needs a kidney that matches mine. Well, they both get one, and I'll figure out something else for myself.

Love is a sacrifice. Love is action. Love is commitment. Love is instinct. And I have the exact same sacrifice, action and commitment to both of my kids. Period. I love them the same.

Kate seems to draw the line on love at annoyance and picking which kid is easy. She says, "My son [the youngest] was the only person I have met under ideal circumstances in my entire life. For us, bonding was instant and uncomplicated." There you have it. Her son was easy, and the bond was uncomplicated. So at her worst (?), she's a lazy parent who is incapable of distinguishing between like and love, and thus, she fails to make the connection in her own brain that an uncomplicated life (of course) equals more warm fuzzy feelings. But does more warm fuzzies equal more love? I think we're still talking like here, people.

Again. Love is a sacrifice. Love is action. Love is commitment. Love is instinct.

Being a parent is exceptionally gratifying and beautiful, often fun, and full of really awesome Norman Rockwell moments. Being a parent can also be one's worst nightmare, a swift kick to the face and a seemingly complete loss of self. But to pick out one child and make a statement like, "hey, that's the munchkin I love more" is just plain parenting stupidity.

And it's a shame that Kate's blogging isn't lucrative enough to support the endless therapy she just created for her daughter. All from the choice of word and failure to make a time/space distinction: love versus like.

Does this post even make sense?

I know... people in glass houses. Sure, my kids will probably need therapy from me cross-dressing them, or my random Mommy Dearest moments. Well, I'm hoping my blog will make enough money for their joint therapy fund. Shut up.

Right now, I love and like both James and Stella equally. Because it's 5:15am and they are beautiful sleeping angels. Ask me again around the 5:15pm dinnertime witching hour....when the children morph into alien pods, and then quickly hatch into baby demons.

Baby demons who I love completely equally, mind you....

The Child is For Sale

2011-03-14T17:01:00.001-04:00

Me: Sit down in your chair, James.

James: You go away, Mommy. You gotta be kidding me.

What ARE They Talking About? Part 2

2011-03-14T13:35:00.000-04:00

James: Stella, you go to time out!
Now, okay?

Stella: No. I no time out. Bubba time out!

James: I tell you do something, Stella Rae, and you do it, okay? Now, time out, okay?

Stella: No!!! Time out! You.

James: Stella!!! I said do it. You are in big trouble, sissy.

Stella: I not. You time out! Bubba.

James: I am not in time out, Stella!

Stella: Time out! Time out!

James: Sissy, you stop it! You don't know nothing.

Stella: No no no!

James: Ahhhhhhhhhhh! Stella is bugging me, Momma!!

Saturday Stickers

2011-03-12T16:00:00.000-05:00

James is obsessed with stickers. As for me, I love to pick stickers off the table. One by one... teeny piece by teeny piece. I love it. Just how I love to spend Saturday.

And yes, those are money stickers. Gotta teach them to be good with money early on.

What ARE They Talking About?

2011-03-10T14:15:00.000-05:00

James: Stella, don't you say "no" to me.

Stella: I nooooo!

James: You stop it Stella Rae!

Stella: I uh no you cookie!

James: Don't say cookie, sissy! You can't say it.

Stella: No!

James: I said don't say "no" to me again anymore, Stella!

Stella: No!

James: Sissy, you stop it saying that right now.

Stella: No no no!

James: Momma! Stella say no to me!

This Month is Busted

2011-03-07T09:33:00.000-05:00

I am officially declaring the craziest month (plus 6 days) ever... officially over.

Last night, I spent a few hours in the ER with James due to a hyperextended/dislocated elbow (a/k/a "nursemaid's elbow"). The doc popped the elbow back into place, and we were quickly back into business. But still... I have decided that this insanity cannot continue. This week is o-v-e-r.

Last week started off with James' barking cold and cough that carried on for three days. Then hump day shone with the likes of Puke-a-Palooza, Part III. Professionally, I had two crazy days of Court. Then, last night was an episode of Busted Elbow, starring James and Gwinnett Medical Children's ER (which, by the way, was awesome... kudos). Prior to that, Stella was just in time for Happy Virus Day. There was the flu outbreak with James. And the Expert gone to Down Under. We won't even talk about the stupidity that was my favorite court case ever. This month-long craziness is over.

Two funny things about the trip to the ER. This was the first trip to the ER with either of the kids. That's some sort of miracle, I know. But the best part: I switched myself and the kids to a high-deductible health care plan - six days ago. No help there. Oh, Alanis Morisette - sing it for me....

Month = over. Thank you for playing. On to shiny, happy butterflies and chocolate of some sort. Ok? Ok. Deal.

Time to workout to save my sanity. Happy Monday, everyone!

Is it Wrong...

2011-03-05T18:18:00.000-05:00

....when I see the Facebook Page labeled "I LOVE BEING A MOM," I just can't bring myself to click "like"?

Is it because I know the "types" of mothers who click "like"? I blame that. Obviously, I am a mom. I love my kids. But the thought: I heart being a mom ...just isn't something I'm willing to "like."

Being a mom is like saying: I like having wee people be the boss of me. I like never sleeping. I like being pooped upon. It's counter-intuitive.

I would click "like" for: I love my kids. I think my kids are funny. Kids are hilarious. Kids are worth having. My kids are way better than your kids.

But to "like" the page "I love being a mom"... perhaps, a play on semantics, but... I ...just... can't...click ...."like."

Puke-a-Palooza III (God Save Us!)

2011-03-04T14:56:00.000-05:00

On this episode of the House of the Sick and Afflicted....The terror of Puke-a-Palooza Part Uno and Dos were shamefully minute compared to the hell that was Wednesday evening's Puke-a-Palooza Part III (God Save Us)...which stretched into the wee hours of Thursday morning.

9:30pm, Wednesday night
The Expert is quiet. Unusually quiet. I ask him what's shaking. He says he doesn't feel very well. I run to the store for the Pepto-Immodium essentials, just in case. While I am gone, he starts upchucking.

I blame him and his crazy cooking for poisoning himself. This time it was the smoked pork ribs from Monday. That damn meat, I say.

He agrees.

10:30pm
The Expert returns to the bathroom. Cursed meat.

11:20pm
I am getting ready for bed, washing my face, and I hear familiar distance screams of horror. From upstairs. The boy child. Oh no. Seriously cursed meat.

James has painted the entire room. It's bad.

11:40pm
We put James in the tub and clean up the mess. The Expert is sitting on the floor near the tub also looking pale.

James throws up again. In the tub. He cries. The Expert is a shade of green at seeing James. I tell him to go downstairs.

12:00am, Thursday morning
I rock James, but he won't get back in his bed because he thinks the bed made him sick.

"I no like my bed!" he says.

1:15am
James is in bed with us. He throws up two more times. It's pitiful. The Expert is holding it together, despite the surrounding mayhem.

Then, James settles down to sleep in between us. Things get quiet.

1:40am
Just as I doze off, I am bolted awake...sweating. Dear God.

And I am the worse thrower-upper in the world. First, because I rarely do it. And I avoid it all costs.
I tell the Expert to get me the trashcan. And then I start.

I lean over the bed and make an offering to the gods of sickness. James is sleeping soundly beside me, and the Expert is huddled in the other bathroom.

2:30am
James's turn again.

2:40am
My turn next. This time, I am laying on the floor in the bathroom, with a pillow the Expert tossed at me, because if I move, I might die.

The Expert, bless his soul... I will stay married to him forever. He cleaned out my trashcan. Took it "out back" and hosed it out. Even in his state.

3:45am
At some point, all three of us are sleeping. There has been no peep from Stella upstairs, thank God. At some point, one of us went up and checked on her. But I can't remember who. Maybe we sent James...

6:00am
Up and at 'em.... Time to get ready for Court. The room is spinning as I repeat to myself: I love the law, I love the law, I love the law.....

But in all seriousness, Puke-a-Palooza Part III was the most ridiculous scenario ever. Our nanny and her daughter also participated in the fun from their house around the same time that night.

The only one who went unscathed was Stella girl. Turns out, the Expert's cooking wasn't to blame. Stella was probably the carrier. Little stinker.

Product Review: Princess Leia?

2011-03-02T19:11:00.005-05:00

As a part of a product review program at Costume Discounters, I was asked to pick a costume for one of the kids, try it out, and review it. I was stoked. I picked out the costume, requested that it be shipped to my work address, and I waited.

I received an email from one of my co-workers saying that my "Halloween Costumes for the kids had arrived" and wasn't I just a Sucker Mother for ordering so far in advance.

Au contraire! I could never be so prepared! Halloween is October, people. But I'm sure the Sucker Moms are making treat bags as we speak....

So, I had browsed the costumes at Costume Discounters to pick out the one I wanted, and I saw this: Princess Leia for Stella girl. Holy cow, it was awesome. And hilarious. Two things I love.

And I have a co-worker who dressed up as Leia for Halloween, and I desperately wanted to present her with a photo of Stella as Leia... to do her legacy its proper honor.

I bring the costume home and unwrap it. The kids are so excited. Turns out, the size I ordered was massive. I ordered a Toddler 2-4, and Stella is a 2T. It would have swallowed her.

So I held the costume up to the boy child and made an executive decision. Perfection. I mean, really... why have children at all if you can't dress them up?

The robe is a pretty great material for the price. Felt-ish feeling polyester with velcro closures, and it's the perfect length for a three year old (the 2-4 size). Actually, the Toddler 2-4 is perfect for a 3T kid. Of course, it's "costumey" material, but quite nice.

I am less than thrilled with the felt "buns" to wear on the head. They kinda look like poo, but that's part of the appeal I think. Or cinnamon buns... MMmmm... Poo buns. So the poo buns were a little loose, but I think the costume overall just ran big, and therefore, the head piece also was large. Nothing a little bobby pin action wouldn't fix.

But the mission was accomplished: the costume was awesome and hilarious.

And James was a fan. James is rarely a fan of anything [right now, he's throwing his Thomas trains around the playroom, chanting: I no like these TRAAAAAINS!!!"]. So. Anyway, he liked Princess Leia.

And I like dressing my son up in ridiculous things because he tortures me on a daily basis. And this just feels so wrong, it's right.

VERDICT:
I give the Princess Leia costume from Costume Discounters FOUR out of FIVE BlogVentures stars.

If the headpiece had fit a little better, then it would have clenched the title. Love the robe. I think it will make a nice transition from Leia to Christmas Angel costume too.

As for the Poo Buns... I think I could have fun leaving those lying around in random places around the office.

True Love

2011-03-02T17:47:00.001-05:00

I was text chatting with my husband just a bit ago. He's still at work, and I'm at my second job (a/k/a Zookeeper Extraordinaire). It went something like this:

The Expert:    How are the kids?

Me:                 Kids? Oh, I only see things climbing the walls.

The Expert:    Okay. I'm leaving here in 3 minutes.

Me:                 I'm warning you, the children may not be alive when you come home.

The Expert:    That's okay. I understand.
                        ....And I forgive you.

Ahhhhhh. Now that is true, true love.

I kid, I kid.

Oh, kids....

Doctor Dangers

2011-02-28T13:42:00.001-05:00

Dear James,

Be careful when you go to the Doctor. First, you may taken by aliens and forced to wear a steaming head apparatus. Stay calm and sit very still. Once the fumes are taken in, you won't remember your visit to the alien planet.

Afterwards, you may be approached from behind by a giant bear. If so, simply ignore the bear, move cautiously and carry a lemon sucker.

Love,

Mom

Tired

2011-02-28T07:18:00.000-05:00

I am tired. But I've been tired for well over three years. I can't help but laugh when I rewind back six or seven years...to another time when I "thought" I was tired.

Boy, was I stupid.

I was tired in law school. In high school. During weightlifting. As a newlywed with a real job. Always so tired.

Dear God. Those times were like a wild rest-a-palooza.

And knowing what I know now... it is always possible to be more tired.

Oh, how sleepy this all makes me.....