Tuesday, July 31, 2012

My baby is a vampire....

It's true. 

Well, not a vampire in the traditional sense (and definitely none of that wishy washy 'Twilight' vampire business), or even a vampyre, but Little P definitely sucks the life out of me on a daily basis.

The little bugger just doesn't stop. Even when she's sleeping she's still moving around doing her own version of the salsa in her sleep. And it takes every ounce of energy that I have to be able to just maintain a pace with her. I'm not even talking about keeping up - I'm happy if I can see her and know that if I need a sudden burst of speed to get to her in a hurry, that the cup of coffee (or three) that I had that morning will provide me with the necessary 'get up and go' to get up and get her.

I seriously don't know where she gets it. There have been days when she's had all of about six hours sleep, yet she'll go non stop till nap time. And this can be for a solid five or six hours of go-go-go. Then after her nap it's like 'I've had my nap, time to play', and off we go again for another four to five hours of non stop running around. 

It's no wonder she 'grazes' all day instead of eating big meals. She burns it all up so damn quickly. It makes me wonder if scientists somewhere aren't trying to bottle that kind of energy. Forget '5 Hour Energy' shots, you find out what makes kids run and you could concentrate it to make eight to ten hour energy. That, or work out how to get caffeine into my system intravenously...

So, until science catches up, my little vampire will continue to suck the life out of me and I'll continue to subside on coffee and chocolate (hey, things could be worse).

Till next time, stay in the light, stock up on garlic and beware strangers with incredibly good dress sense but bad personal hygiene (cause really, how do the undead stop the smell?).


Monday, July 30, 2012

One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, FLOOR!!

Word of advice - hangovers and little ones do not mix. No way, no how. 

Fortunately, I have been spared this experience (essentially because being, and I quote 'kinda old', I know better), but some of my younger comrades have been on the wrong end of the bottle and had to look after little ones. 

Now I'm not saying to not enjoy yourself. Hey, Momma's need down time too. I'm merely saying that if you are going to find yourself at the bottom of a bottle one night, it may be prudent to enlist an overnight (and potentially early morning) baby sitter.

A young friend of mine is the mother to twins, wonderful little girls who at three, are quite um, observant of their Mommy. She had a friend coming into town, and since they hadn't gone out together for quite some time, it seemed they were overdue for a night on the town. Daddy offered to look after the girls so Mommy could go out and have fun.

And fun she had. Started the night out at a local bar, just a few drinks and a couple of games of pool. Which turned into a cab ride to The Strip, a few more drinks at a casino, a couple more at a bar and then they somehow found themselves at Coyote Ugly, which lead to more drinks, a couple of rounds of shots, and dancing on the bar. 

By this time it was 3am, and the girls decided to call it a night. Her friend went back to her hotel, and she caught a cab home. And this is when it gets good. She says she doesn't remember this, but apparently she couldn't work out how to get her key into the lock on her door and had to call her husband from outside her house to come and let her in. The rest of the early morning was a blur of getting undressed, drinking some water, crawling into bed and essentially passing out.

Daddy got up at 7am to get ready for work, got the girls up, dressed and fed, then came into the bedroom with a cup of coffee, a kiss and a couple of shadows. Mommy obviously not feeling too crash hot, got up, kissed her man goodbye and promptly made a run for the bathroom to throw up.

The rest of the day didn't change much. She spent most of the day close to the bathroom, her girls kept bringing her water to drink, and pretty much just entertained themselves. In the afternoon, she overheard them talking to the next door neighbor, who was asking if she could talk to Mommy. 'Mommy can't come out and play, she's not well'. 'Oh? I'm sorry to hear that. Does she have the flu?' 'No. Mommy needed to get her mood on, so she went and shot some people, found a worm and crawled around. Now she's tired, has been talking to God in the bathroom and keeps holding her head.' WOW. Needless to say, the neighbor went home a little confused.

After she had recovered enough to call her neighbor and fill her in on what actually had happened she called her husband to ask him what he had told the girls she had been doing. When he asked why, she told him about the conversation with the next door neighbor. After he had finished laughing (she says it sounded like he fell of his chair he was laughing so hard), he said 'I told them, that Mommy needed to get her groove on and was going out with a friend. They'll probably do what they used to; have some shots of Tequila and find the worm at the bottom of the bottle, dance, and then she'll crawl home. Which, is essentially what you did. I can't help it if they could hear you talking to God while you were throwing up.' That's sympathy for you.

So, lesson learned. If you are going to 'get your mood on and go shoot some people' maybe you should book a hotel for the night and let someone else watch the kids.

Till next time, keep on dancing (and keep an eye out for that worm, he's a slippery sucker).


                                                                                               (credit - Pinterest)

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Elmo is on ecstasy....

I really think he is. Seriously. He has to be on something. No one is that happy and loving all the time. Not without some sort of pharmaceutical assistance. 

Granted, I hadn't watched an episode of Sesame Street in decades (till recently), and there's a whole bunch of new characters aside from him, but really, he's just way too happy for me not to be suspicious.

I know kids love him (and the occasional adult) - it is a 'he' right? -  but I have to tell you, watching an episode the other day kind of freaked me out. Aside from the fact that the people who were on it when my little brother watched it are STILL on it, and that some of the characters are a little, um, scary, it seems to essentially be the same program it was over 20 years ago. But Elmo, I don't know.

Not long after my Sesame Street experience, I discovered a documentary on Netflix called 'Being Elmo: A Puppeteer's Journey'. I found this somewhat accidentally and figured 'what the heck' so I watched it. And I have to be honest, I kind of get it now. I respect the guy behind Elmo. What he went through to get to where he is now and how dedicated he is to kids and family, I get it, really I do. It doesn't mean I am any less freaked out about his super-duper-over-the-top-so-happy-to-meet-you-happy-happy-joy-joy voice, but at least now I understand where it comes from... somewhat.

But this got me to thinking, are all kids characters like this? So I went down the list of the ones I at least knew about (I have no doubt there are hundred's more). 

- 'TeleTubbies' -  I was never fully subjected to, but I still think they are all on drugs. 
- 'The Wiggles' - they have a weird 'Beatle-esque' hold over kids. But it's kind of hard not to like a bunch of pop stars who decided there was more money to made in entertaining kiddies (yup, they were called 'The Cockroaches' back in the day, and yes, I do still have their CD's). 
- 'Barney?' I've got nothing against dinosaurs, but he is just plain weird.
And that's just the first three I thought of.

The list goes on and on. You can Google 'kids characters on drugs' and there is a whooping 22, 200, 000 hits. It's nuts. Granted most of these aren't specifically related to the question at hand, but still.

I know in theory, it comes down to what attracts little kids. Primary colors, up tempo music, sing-songy voices (I know a few adults who dig that too), but some days I really do wonder, who it is that sits in a room and creates this stuff. And bigger question - what are they on?

Till next time, I'll see you all on Sesame Street.....


Missing in Action

Nothing quite like starting your day off with an exploding diaper full of crap. Just stimulates the senses. Especially when you are suffering from constant bouts of vomiting. Yay! It's gonna be AWESOME.

I hate being sick. And I don't just mean like hating peak hour traffic. I really, REALLY hate being sick. It ranks right up there with brussel sprouts (eewww) and stepping in dog crap in good shoes. It's a fruitless, wasteful act and I despise it.

Mothers aren't supposed to get sick. Not the full blown, laid out for days, can hardly move kind of sick. A sniffle, a wee bit of a cold, yeah, I get it, helps keep your immune system rocking, but not being able to do anything for days at a time sucks. Big time.

Trying to be entertaining to a toddler can be hard enough without the added pressure of not feeling well. Throw into the mix a sick toddler, and well, let's just say the last few days have been very long and wearing.

M has been a trooper throughout it all. I'm not an easy patient (don't know who I could possibly get that from), and with Little P being super clingy and easy to upset, it's been rough on him too. But we got through it, just like we always do. 

I can tell you one thing though, I want to have the system little kids do when it comes to throwing up. None of this awful, whole body retching business. I want it to come out like it does with them, like a hose being switched on. Just get it all out, in one quick movement. Bllllaaahhhhh. Done. Okay, let's move onto the next thing.

So, now that I'm back in the swing of things, I'll be hopefully finishing up some final posts and be hitting them at you nice and hard. 

So, get ready for the onslaught, cause 'I'm BAAAACCCCKKKKK'.


Mommy-ism #93: sick Mommies. There is something just completely and unnaturally wrong with a Mom being sick. I think there should be some sort of over the counter immediate remedy for the 'sick Mommy'. Who has time to be throwing up, being sore all over or not being able to move when you have a family to look after? I think the drug companies are missing a really big market niche here. You lot hear that. Got going on it. You'd make a mint. (Heck, I'd buy shares in it).

Monday, July 23, 2012

Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet."

In a way, it's true. Just because you call your child Theodore, doesn't mean he's going to become a serial killer (a la Ted Bundy) anymore than he will become President (although here's hoping). And I know a lot of people give me a funny look when I tell them Little P's name, not that it's weird, just not a common name for a girl. But I have to be honest, with some of the names that are coming out these days, especially from celebrities, it kind of makes you wonder what it was these parents were thinking when they decided to call their child 'Book' (I know, extreme example, but you get the picture).

Don't get me wrong. I think being original with your child's name is awesome, I really do. And there's nothing wrong with the classics either (John, James, Olivia, Sarah/Sara....), but I do wonder if the parents who get more creative actually think about what other kids are going to call their child. Because, as we all know, kids can be pretty darn inventive when it comes to destroying someone's name. 

And I know a lot of it has to do with the current culture. Back in the 60's and 70's there were a lot of kids being called 'Rain', or 'River' or 'Moonbeam'. But you wouldn't expect to see that happen much these days. Now, it's more about characters from popular movies or books, like 'Bella' (short for Isabelle or Isabella), or Jacob, or Edward (Twilight fans anyone?).

Look, I'm all for making your child stand out. I really am. Heck, I have nieces and nephews with names that standout, and a lot of my friends have kids with names that are different, but I can guarantee you that they didn't just pick a bunch of random letters and put them together or look at a piece of furniture and go 'Mmmm, 'Ottoman' would be a cool name. But do you really think you are helping little 'Apple' make friends by naming her after a) a piece of fruit and b) the piece of fruit that essentially sent Adam and Eve out of Eden (and you just know that kid is going to want to change her name the minute she gets to high school).

Today at the park I personally heard the following names called: Gideon (biblical reference or fan of 'Criminal Minds'?), Buddy (I honestly didn't know people still called their kids this) and Jaylee (and I'm totally guessing on the spelling here. For all I know it could be Jaelae).

Aside from the fact that these kids won't ever be able to find their names on stationary or little tourist knick knacks, there is a good likelihood that little 'Jaylee' is going to have to spell her name out for people for the rest of her life. 

By all means, get creative with your kids name, just take a little time to think what their future friends might do with it.

Till next time, stay cool all you Zayden's, Luxx's and Draven's. After all, what's in a name?


(When looking into kids names, I came across a post from one of my favorite Mommy Bloggers, 'Momma Dearest', and she had this article on one of her posts - it's AWESOME
American Baby Names)

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Friends with benefits.

That got your attention didn't it? Well just to clarify, I don't mean friends with those kinds of benefits. I am referring to having friends who open their home up to me and Little P and take her for a little while. Friends who reach out for her while at the same time handing me a glass of wine. And friends with kids. Little kids. Kids that can play with Little P and keep her entertained and distracted for a good hour. Friends with little kids that enable me to get my head together for a oh so brief moment in time. Friends who remind me it's okay to not do everything perfect when it comes to being a parent. Friends who kindly prod me to remember that you are gonna make mistakes. That it's the mistakes that make us, in the end, the interesting people that we become.

I am so very thankful for all my friends in my life.

As a kid you don't really see your parents as 'people'. They are 'Mom' (or 'Mum') and 'Dad'. As you get older, you understand that they have feelings, needs and wants, dreams and wishes, just like you, but I don't think you really get it till you become a parent. And all of a sudden, it hits you. You are someone's Mom or Dad.

Then it happens. When people introduce you to others, you are so & so's Mom. You won't be you, you'll be a MOM. It kind of freaks me out (only a little but still). I mean, I remember meeting friends parents and they were always Mrs. Jones, or Mr. K (and on the rare occasion, it was their first name, when like my parents, they always felt OLD if they were called Mr or Mrs). And now I'm that person. When teachers meet me, I'm going to be Little P's mother. When parents of her friends meet me, I'm going to be Little P's Mom. But when Mommies in my Mommy Groups meet me, I'm just Kelly, who happens to have a little girl. It's nice, you know?

For a small moment each day, I get to be me. I'm still Little P's Mom, still M's wife, but I'm also ME, and I really, really appreciate that. 

It's funny. You worry about 'losing' you when you become a parent. People tell horror stories about not having any part of who they really are left after becoming a Mommy or a Daddy. But I don't think that's the case. I think you just kind of adapt. You are still you, just a different version of you. And having friends who see you for who you are and not the 'title' you hold helps, a lot. 

So, to all my wonderful friends; whether you have little ones running underfoot, or bigger ones trying to stay hidden. Whether you have a lot of kids or none at all.... thank you. Thank you for being my friend, regardless of my station in life. 

Till next time, keep the benefits coming.


Mommy-ism #101: never take for granted those around you. And I'm not just talking family. I mean everyone who helps you get through the day. Whether it be good friends, or someone you just met. Or the kid who helped get your groceries to the car while you tried to calm down a cranky baby. Or the woman at the store who let you go ahead of her because your little one was getting restless. Your significant other, whether it be a husband or a wife, boyfriend or girlfriend or best friend, for just letting you vent when you need to and giving you a shoulder to cry on without thinking twice about it. And your little one. Who gives you hugs when you don't ask for them, kisses when you least expect it and holds your hand just because. Never, ever take them for granted. Because moments like these are all too fleeting.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Little red cookbook, little red cookbook....

Ah Eddie Izzard, how I heart thee. 

(Just in case you aren't familiar with Eddie's comedic repartee, in his show 'Dressed to Kill' he chants 'little red cookbook, little red cookbook'. It's part of a skit about 'cake or death'. I thought that maybe it was a reference to a movie or something, so I Googled it and found out that the "Little Red Cookbook" does actually exist and that it was published by The People's Republic of China and it contains famous quotations from speeches made by Chairman Mao Zedong. So, there you go. Little bit of random trivia for you. Now on with the show.) 

Ever since my post on FB about the little red notebook that I take practically everywhere with me, people have been commenting on it. You know, just the usual stuff, "Ooooo, there's the red notebook", "You writing about me now?", and occasionally "Oh, look out, she's got her red notebook!! Run for the hills!". A little over dramatic if I say so, but it's nice to know that people actually do pay attention to what I write.

My only problem now is, that I occasionally have people ask me why I haven't included them or their kids in my blog. For the most part I know they are joking, but there have been occasions when they have gotten a touch irate that I haven't written about them. And it baffles me somewhat. I mean, it's not like a) it's a huge thing or b) that it's getting the same amount of 'air time' as say '50 Shades of Grey', but for some people, it's almost offensive that I haven't written about them.

And I don't have the heart to tell these people that they really aren't that interesting (kidding), but I can only post so much at any one time. I usually have anywhere from three to five posts ready to upload, and if I was honest with myself, I could probably have a lot more ready, but I simply don't want to spend all day on the computer. And seriously, if I posted more than one or two a day, would you read them? Nah. Gotta keep you lot coming back for more.

But for now, you can rest assured, that if you see me madly scribbling in my little red notebook, there's a pretty good chance it's NOT about you (I said pretty good, but I'm not guaranteeing that).

So till next time, keep on chanting, and who knows, maybe I will write about you..... someday.


And just because I really can't leave well enough alone, here's 'Cake or Death'.

Friday, July 20, 2012

And God bless Mommy and Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa....

This post comes to you compliments of a Daddy friend of mine, who started reading my blogs and sent me an email with a story about his youngest. He thought I (and you, o faithful readers) would get a giggle out of it, and with his blessing I am presenting you this very cute story.

Just a quick prefix. He is a single Daddy, with three kiddies (7, 5 and 3) who spend one weekend every month with their Grandparents. Davy is their aging cocker-spaniel. His kids have been saying nightly prayers pretty much since they could grasp the idea of them, and each night they have three things to talk to God about: something they are thankful for that day; if someone they know is sick, they ask for God to help them get better; and if there is a question they have and would like an answer from God about (Daddy then goes to Wikipedia to research an answer, makes it more 'kid' friendly and writes it on a chalk board in their kitchen. The kids check it each morning for their answers from God). 

Okay, so now you have a bit of an idea of whats going on, here we go.

Daddy picked up the kids from the Grandparents on Monday afternoon, and after they had dinner and their baths, and had read their stories, it was time for prayers. Mr. 7 pretty much does these on his own (likes his privacy), Miss 5 was pretty standard, if somewhat lengthy (almost 10 minutes for her prayers - apparently she had a story to tell God). But little Miss 3, well hers was the interesting one.

Kneeling at the side of the bed, they say their prayers and then she talks to God about her '3' things.
"Thank you for letting us have chocolate cake for breakfast. Grammy makes the best cake and it was nice to have it for breakfast" (you just know Grammy got a phone call from Daddy about them having cake for breakfast).
"Please make Davy better. When he throws up it's really stinky and I don't like it" (again, Davy is their dog and he's getting old).
"How come sand won't make a good sandcastle without water?' (great question).

Then there was a slight pause, and with her hands close to her mouth she said "And thank you for my special treats in the sandbox". This made Daddy sit up and wonder what she was talking about. "Honey, what special treats are you talking about?". She looks at him and seems hesitant to answer so he says, "It's okay, you can tell me".  She then precedes to tell him about the special little candy she found in the sand box while playing before dinner. "They look just like M&M's without the hard part". Getting worried now, he asked her if she had eaten any of them. "No. I was saving them. I put them in my treasure box". Somewhat relieved but still a little concerned, he asked if he could see them. Seeing that she was reluctant to do so, he added "It's okay. I just want to make sure they didn't melt, because it's so hot". This seemed to ease her concerns, so she went and got her 'treasure box' (old shoe box that she keeps all her special little items in) and showed Daddy her special treats. When he realized what they were, he asked if he could take them and put them in another box and then put that in the fridge so they don't melt. After a little prodding, she agreed.

Miss 3's special treats were cat poop. It would appear that the neighbors cat has decided that their new sandbox is it's new litter box. The rest of his night consisted of him emptying the sand out of the sand box and calling his sister to watch his kids for a little while as he made a late night dash to Walmart to get fresh sand, a cover for the sand box and replacement candy for Miss 3. Needless to say, he didn't sleep much that night, and he has become very vigilant about putting the cover on the sand box ever since. He's just thankful Miss 3 thanked God about her special treats.... God only knows what would have happened if she hadn't.

Till next time, may the treats in your house never come from dubious sources.


   (found on a blog called Funny Mail and there's a heap of them. I love how honest and innocent kids are when it comes to asking questions)

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Okay, all I need is a hot glue gun, some glitter and maybe a drill...

I am not a 'crafty Momma'. Never have been, and I'm quite alright with that. I've always appreciated 'hand made' items. I think it's probably due to all those Saturday's spent walking around the Eumundi Markets back home. Seeing all the wonderful things that people were able to make with their own two hands (and the occasional lathe, drill and fire pit, but you get the picture).

But since having the chance to become a SAHM, I have had the opportunity to get in touch with my inner 'Martha Stewart' - apparently we all have one, kind of like an inner child, you just need to know how to channel it. For me it took three things: becoming a SAHM, a bottle of wine, and discovering ETSY and Pinterest. Thus emboldened I decided to give it a go and see what came out of it. 

And to be honest, the first couple of things I made were an absolute dismal failure - so much so that I pulled them apart and put the items in a box never to be seen again. Or so I thought. A couple of months later, I had made some wonderful friends through 'Mommy & Me' groups, and wouldn't you know it, a couple of them are very talented, crafty Mommies. Needless to say, I am once again channeling my inner Martha and trying my hand at a few goodies. So far I have mastered (mostly) the art of using Mod Podge (without getting it all over myself, the item I am working on and the table - helps to do it when the little one is sleeping), able to make a few lovely pieces of jewelry (which my husband mistakenly believes will satisfy my love of all things shiny), and made 'baby blocks' for my little one and a couple of other adorable kiddies.

My current obsession is stamped jewelry. I love it. Love the uniqueness of it, the individuality of it but mostly, I love the fact that I can bang on something with a hammer and not hurt myself or make a mess of the house while doing so. And fortunately for me, one of my friends is pretty skilled in this arena and has been kind enough to let me use some of her items and show me the 'ropes'.

So, going forward, Thursday's are going to be my 'Nailed It' day - you'll get at least one post, about my latest victory over all things handmade (and yes, I'll include pictures, I don't expect you to believe that I made it without proof), and if I'm feeling a little feisty, I'll include one of my fabulous 'mommy' posts, that I just know you all love.

So, till next time, get your glue gun warmed up, your Mod Podge prepped and let's do this!!


Mommy-ism #38: arts and crafts really are a must when it comes to little ones - even if it's just to keep them entertained for a brief period of time. Now I don't consider myself to be a 'crafty mommy' (and I just know some of my friends are rolling their eyes at that statement) - I don't have the imagination or the creative juices to think of something and then just go and make it. I am, however, very good at following directions. What I want to know, is why, no matter how 'to the letter' I am following the directions, when I'm done, it never, ever looks like it does in the picture? 

And, does this follow the same theory as to why, when you order something from a restaurant, it NEVER looks like it does on the menu? Just coincidence or something more sinister?

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

This is how we do it.....

I was talking with a younger friend (much younger, like over a decade younger) the other day, just about stuff, and she asked me about the post I had mentioned on FB (you know, the one where I'm just soooo controversial - 'One is the loneliest number') and she wanted to know what it was that, and I quote, "You old people do for fun". Um, what? I know I have a few years on her (okay, it's 15, but that's beside the point), but 'old people'? Really?

My automatic response was something rather sarcastic, along the lines of 'Oh, you know. Just the usual stuff. We gather all the crayons, makers and finger paint we can find, and then go and tag all the cool places you 'young ones' like to hang out at'. Apparently my sarcasm is somewhat lacking in it's bite, because she gave me THAT look and said 'Seriously?'. Wow. I weep for the younger generation.

I gave in and informed her that we do pretty much the same stuff as them; go out for dinner and drinks, go watch a movie, maybe go to a friend's house sans the kids and just talk and have a good time. But, if we really want to let loose, well then we get stomping. Again, I got THAT look. *sigh*

So I told her about going over to my friend 'The Incredible Ms. D's' house for our 'Modern Girls Knitting Club Meeting', and how we helped her separate and stomp on grapes for homemade wine. I swear, once she heard the word 'wine' her eyes lit up, and she went 'What? You made wine?'. Yup. Well, we didn't totally make it, more like 'prepped' it for the process of making the wine. I then got grilled for the next 30 minutes about exactly what it was that we did, how long did it take, how long do I think it will take till the wine is ready, can anyone do this..... yadda, yadda, yadda.

At the end of the conversation I said 'So, I guess us 'old people' still now how to have a good time?'. She again gave me THAT look, and said, 'Well, you know, if that's the kind of thing you like doing.' Seriously? There is no winning with some people. But  you can bet your butt that she's going to be talking to all her friends about this and I have no doubt that a local grocery store is going to be out of grapes as the 'young people' try their hand at making wine. This should be interesting...

Till next time, get your stomp on!!


         (we didn't exactly look like this, but you get the general idea. Thanks Aunt Dee for sending the picture)

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

"I'm sorry Ma'am, but it's rather more serious than we thought"....

It's official. Little P is suffering from a very severe case of 'EOP' (that's 'Early Onset Puberty'). Symptoms include acting like they are a teenager, hating everything, refusing to do anything they are told, and generally just making their parents life a living hell (this has also been referred to in the past as the 'Terrible Two's').

That's right beautiful people. My charming, delightful little girl is acting like a 13 year old - expecting the world to explode if she doesn't get her way. It's funny though, when I tell people this is what is happening the standard reaction is 'No. Not that sweet little thing'. Yes, that 'sweet little thing'. Don't get me wrong, there a moments, lots of them, when she's her normal, fun, energetic self, and then there's THOSE moments, when I'm just waiting for her to start spewing pea soup and cursing me out.

So far this week, we have had a monumental meltdown about what to wear (that's right, my nearly one and a half year old had a tantrum about what clothes she was going to wear), pitched a fit about having lunch, hated all of her stuffed animals (she threw them all down the stairs and then blew a raspberry at them), has hit me (and then threw another fit when I reprimanded her about that) and has just generally made me want to curl up in a corner with my hands over my ears going 'nah, nah, nah, nah'.

I know it's a phase. I know most kids go through it at some stage, some earlier than others, and there are others who don't hit it till they are four. But knowing all this doesn't make going through it any easier. I swear she's just doing things that she knows perfectly well will push my buttons and get me close to breaking. Close, oh so very close, but somehow I always manage to avoid totally losing it. Wine helps. A lot.

I guess at the end of the day, I just need to look at it as preparation for when she is a teenager...... and stock up on wine (a lot of it).

So, till next time, here's hoping I still have all my hair, that my house hasn't burnt down and that I haven't been institutionalized.


Mommy-ism #26: Little ones are fickle (kind of like teenagers). One day they just lurve this toy, the next it's stuffed behind a chair never to be seen again. One day all they want is to be picked up by you, the next it's like 'don't touch me'. One day they can't get enough of their banana's and vanilla yogurt, the next, it winds up on the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and you. If this is what I have to look forward to when she hits 13, I'll take a rain check, thank you very much.

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Let's get ready to RUMBLE!!

Since having Little P, I swear I have had more cuts, bruises, scrapes and just generally banged up body parts that I ever did prior.

Now I don't know if that means I've lost my ability to be coordinated since becoming a Mommy (kind of along the same lines as losing brain cells - aka 'Mommy-Brain), or if it's just a fact that Little P is fearless and I spend a good part of my time chasing after her. A perfect example is the wonderful welt that I have on the side of my nose from me coming too close to the chain connectors on a swing. Yup, cooped that right on the side of my nose - and man that hurt. Although, I kept my cool. You know, with all the other Mommies and kiddies around, couldn't exactly swear like a sailor (although you know that's exactly what I wanted to do).

Now this relates somewhat to a story I was told quite some time ago, by a friend of mine in regards to her sister. Apparently big sis, is a little, um, clumsy, and she has passed this trait onto her son. Which I am informed, provides for some very interesting conversations during family dinners.

Recently Mrs. Clumsy was at a park with her son, just having a very ordinary, run-of-the-mill day. Nothing exciting was happening. That was till junior decided he wanted to climb up the chain ladder, and proceeded to get himself somehow all wound up in the chains and stuck. Upon seeing her son's distress, Mrs. Clumsy took it upon herself to climb up to where he was on the ladder (instead of taking the stairs to the platform above him), and very quickly got herself stuck as well.

As I was hearing this, I was actually getting a mental image of mother and son, all caught up like they were stuck in some twisted version of a spider web (kind of made me giggle). It's horrible, I know, but I couldn't help it. It apparently took two grown men, and another Mommy to get the two untangled, and the end result was a sprained wrist for junior and a sprained ankle for Mommy. 

Upon hearing this, I did feel somewhat better. I haven't been that bad, and most of the time when I do get hurt, it's due to my throwing caution to the wind to get to my baby girl. But I tell you what, we are definitely staying away from any chain ladders for the foreseeable future.

Till next time, make sure you have your head gear and always wear your mouth guard.


Mommy-ism #30: little one's are fearless. It doesn't matter how high the slide is, or how many obstacles are in her way, Little P will do whatever it takes to play with the big kids. And me? My heart is in my throat most of the time, the rest of the time I'm just so damn proud of my little 'Adventure Baby'.

Friday, July 13, 2012

Live by the sword, die by the bullet...

I am going to prefix this one by saying I'm going to upset some people with this post. I know I am. My father and my brother would say I'm 'sh*t stirring' right now, and I guess, in a way I kind of am. But if I can't be open and honest on my OWN blog, then where the hell can I?

The fall out from my post 'One is the loneliest number' kind of caught me off guard, but having the support of you wonderful readers, has emboldened me to continue my quest of being open and honest and saying it like it is. So, make sure your seat belts are fastened, your tray tables up and in their locked position and hold on tight, it's gonna get a little bumpy.

Since becoming a Mommy, I have noticed, somewhat to my dismay, how many people I know and have met, treat what I do, as something of a joke. An antiquated notion. Not something an intelligent, modern and sophisticated woman should be doing with her life (that, my dear friends, is a direct quote). I'm talking about being a Stay at Home Mom (SAHM).

It's sad really. That in this day and age, there are still people who believe that women are only able to fully prove themselves successful if they can work full time, run a family full time and still look like frigging Angelina Jolie while doing it. That to be a SAHM is, and again I quote, 'demeaning to all women'.

This just p*sses me off. Extremely. I want to slap the people who say these things till sense comes to them. Anyone, male or female, who chooses to stay home and raise their children, as far as I am concerned, deserves to be treated with the same respect you would give to anyone who works hard for a living - whether it be driving a cab, building houses, answering phones or working the floor at Wall Street. Being a stay at home parent is not a punishment. You are not a failure at life because you choose to do so.

Granted, I know there are a lot of parents out there that would love to be able to stay home with their kids, but financial constraints prevent them from doing so. I consider myself lucky to be able to be a SAHM, I sincerely do. And I thank my lucky stars everyday that I have the ability to do so. On the other side of the coin, I know a lot of parents out there that just couldn't do it. It's 'not their thing'. And I do not mean this in a condescending or mean way at all. It's just a simple fact that some parents like to have their 'grown up' time and relish the thought of going to work to be able to interact with other grown ups. I get it, I really do. I know several Mommies like that. A good friend of mine is amazed at how I could 'give it all up' to be with Little P every day. And I don't know how she can go work 12 hour days and not see her little one during that time (he's the same age as Little P).

I don't feel like I gave anything up to stay at home. Quite the opposite. I feel like I gained a lot. And I don't miss out on 'grown up' time. That's what play groups are for people. I talk to grown ups every single day. A great variety of them actually. Moms and Dads from all walks of life. And Little P gets to interact with other kids, of all ages. How can that not be rewarding?

So please, don't judge someone by what they choose to do. And for for all that is good in this world, please don't make an ignorant comment about it. Please. I can't tell you the number of times I've had someone say 'Oh, you are JUST at stay at home mom'. 'JUST' doesn't come into it. And you don't know me; you don't know what my days consist off. I don't say to you 'Oh your just a tax attorney'. I have no doubt you take pride in what you do - so do I.

Being a good parent isn't about what you do for a living. It's about caring for your child. That's it.  

Whether you are a stay at home parent, or a working one - the world needs both. It can just do without the ignorance of one for the other.

Till next time.....


Mommy-ism #1: That moment when they put your little one in your arms for the very first time; your heart skips a beat, you hold your breath and you realize, 'we created a little person'. And then you think, 'holy crap, what do we do now? When do you feed them? Change them? Hold them?'. And the panic sets in.... Of course, the panic is only fleeting, and the surge of love takes over.

I'd like a second opinion.

Kids stick things up their nose. It's a fact of life. So much so, that there is a list of the Top 10 items that Doctors often have to remove from little one's nasal cavities. 

Included in the list are the usual suspects; broken crayons, peas/beans, beads, marbles and small toys or pieces of toys. Ones I wouldn't have thought of were; fries (why a child would even think of putting these up their nose is beyond me), spaghetti and cheerios. Funny how it's all food. 

I mention this because I was reminded today of an incident that occurred a little while ago, with a certain little boy deciding he wanted to put rocks up his nose. And I'm not talking your garden variety rocks. No, these were those fancy pants aquarium rocks that you get to put in the bottom of a fish tank. You know, the ones that are all pretty colors.

Anyway, this little boy was watching his Daddy clean out the fish tank. Saw the pretty rocks and thought they looked like candy. He asked his Daddy if he could have some candy, and when Daddy said 'no' and told him they weren't candy, that they weren't something to put in your mouth, something obviously made this kid think, 'well, if I can't put them in my mouth, I'm gonna stick them up my nose'. When Daddy wasn't looking, he grabbed a handful, snuck off to his bedroom and proceeded to put those rocks up his snout.

Daddy reckons he wasn't in his room that long, but when he heard his little boy whimpering, he went in to find him squeezing his nose and crying. When Daddy asked him what was wrong, he said 'rocks hurt my nose'. Not quite understanding what he meant, Daddy said 'A rock hit your nose?'. 'No, rocks in my nose hurting', was the response.

Understandably, this freaked Daddy out, and after looking up the little ones nose with a flashlight and confirming there was something lodged in there, it was a trip to the emergency room.

Two hours, and $500 later, ten little rocks had been removed from his nose. Since then, this little boy has not only refrained from putting anything (even his fingers) up his nose. He's also pretty wary of the fish tank.

So till next time, keep an eye on the peas, fries, cheerios and any shiny, pretty things you have. You just never know where they will wind up.


(And just cause I couldn't leave well enough alone, I found a few more nasty things kids have stuck up their nose. These include pennies, corn kernels, foam padding from a cushion [which apparently was up there so long that it had actually sprouted something - gross], and my all time favorite, Micro Machines!! I even know someone who had a couple of them stuck up their nose. Something to look forward too as Little P gets older)

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Mine. Mine. It's all MINE!

Four little letters. M. I. N. E. They can strike fear in the hearts of adults everywhere once your little one learns that word & what it means.

Little P knows it, but as of yet, has only used it to reference things that are actually hers (her toys, her shoes, her sippy cup) and apparently I'm hers too (she made this abundantly clear when we were shopping the other day, grabbing my hand and saying 'mine').

But some little ones take it to the extreme. And some are just plain clever.

Take for example a certain 4 year old that I know. He is currently going through a pretty intense phase of EVERYTHING being his. So much so that his mother resorted to telling him that only things with his name on it where his. She pointed at his toys (all the tags had his name on it), and his clothes (same deal) and even his cup that he takes to pre school - they all had his name on it.

So being an intelligent young man, he took this information and used it to his benefit. Using a sharpie (a really big, thick black one) he wrote his name on things he wanted to be his. Including the X-box, all the DVD's, his bedroom door, the freezer (cause that's were the ice cream is) and then he wrote is name on his arm (?), and finally on his Daddy's car (brand new Lexus).

When he was reprimanded for this he had a pretty good defense; 'But you said only things that had my name on them were mine. I wanted them so I put my name on them. That means they are mine.' How do you argue with logic like that?

So till next time, hide the markers and the label makers.


                                                                     (credit - Pinterest)

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

And now for my next trick, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat...

Some days I really do feel like a circus act. Between keeping multiple balls up in the air, keeping the wild animals at bay and constantly performing death defying acts... well it gets a little tiring. Especially when all I really want to do is wear a top hat and be the Ring Leader.

Most days it's a 'cakewalk' (I 'Googled' that, and it's actually a legitimate term)
cake-walk (noun)
       1. Something that is easily accomplished
       2: A 19th-century public entertainment among African Americans in which walkers  
           performing the most accomplished or amusing steps won cakes as prizes and
       3: a. A strutting dance, often performed in minstrel shows
           b. The music for this dance

But other days I really do feel like I need to have a couple of tricks up my sleeve just to get through the day. And I only have Little P! Props to those Mommies and Daddies who have multiples. Little P wears me out - if she had siblings... well let's just say this Mommy might be more prone to indulging in liquid libations a touch more regularly.

Yet I digress. The reason for this post was because I was reminded today, of an incident with a friend of mine a few weeks ago (and since enough time has passed, I feel I can write about it without too many reverberations). This friend, let's call her Mrs. X (partly because I don't want to 'call her out' about this, and partly because it sounds cool), has 5 kids. Yup 5. Kind of a 'Brady Bunch' deal. She had two, her husband had two and then they decided to have one together. The kids range in age from 16 down to 8 months. 

Anyway, Mrs. X and I had known each other from working together quite some time ago, and it had been a while since we had caught up. So when out of the blue I get a FB message from her to meet her for coffee, I thought, 'yeah, cool. Be nice to catch up'. I should have read the disclaimer on the bottom of that message.

Don't get me wrong, I adore her, and I think she's a brave woman for wanting to have another little one after the youngest is now in school. But I have to admit, I was a little shocked at her parenting technique. She's not a 'bad Mommy', not at all. Just a very, um, over protective one (yeah, that will work. I was going to say 'anally retentive about her child's welfare', but over protective sounds better).

Now, Little P is quite the fearless one. She'll climb up to the tallest slide, and most days she will slide down without even thinking about it. She gets into places even I wouldn't dare go, and that's cool. I like the fact that she's not a wall flower; that she can fall over, say 'boom' and get back up and go again. It's awesome. It does however, require me to have something of an 'eagle eye', just to make sure she's not getting up to something she shouldn't - and I am usually doing this while talking to someone, getting Little P something to eat and responding to a text message all at the same time (see, multiple balls in the air). It also, from time to time, requires me to be something of an acrobat, if she gets stuck somewhere. Mrs. X on the other hand, wouldn't even let me near her baby. "She doesn't need your adult germs". Yup, apparently, while my icky germs are just fine for my little girl, her precious bundle might get sick if I so much as breathe on her. 

And forget about letting her out of her stroller. She might fall, or decide she wants to do something other than sit there and look cute. Seriously? Look, I'm all for 'live and let live'. She wants to wrap her little one up in cotton wool and not let anything happen to her, than so be it. But, if I may quote Dory, 
                  'Well, you can't never let anything happen to him. 
                   Then nothing would ever happen to him. 
                  Not much fun for little Harpo.'
How are kids going to learn what they like and what's fun, if Mommy is never going to let them do anything. 

I asked her why she was so damn over protective (I didn't phrase it that way, I do have some tact), and her answer was this: 'I'm not going to screw this one up'. Sorry? I've met the other kids and I think they are pretty well adjusted, all things considered, but for some reason, she felt she had failed as a parent.

She never gave me a proper reason for this. And I didn't push it. But it made me wonder - do we judge our kids by how other people parent?

I don't - actually never really thought about it - but I guess it happens. As far as I'm concerned each kid is different, because each family is different and have different things affecting them. It's unfair to compare yourself and your family against another that has a completely different lifestyle to you. 

So my wonderful readers, roll up, roll up, and see the Family Circus for what it really is - totally unique and one of a kind.

Till next time, keeps those balls in the air.


                                                 (credit - Pinterest)

Monday, July 9, 2012

Ma'am, step away from the squeaky toy...

Parents can be nuts. And I don't just mean a little crazy. I mean straight jacket wearing, pill chewing, do not pass go and go straight to the asylum, crazy. What is it that drives what would normally be a level headed, calm person into a slobbering, psychopathic maniac who will stop at nothing to get a particular item for their child?

I get the whole wanting 'to give you child everything you never had' deal. I do. I don't necessarily agree with it (heck, I used to play with whatever was in our back yard and I turned out okay), but I do totally understand it. What I don't understand is the desire, nay, the NEED some parents have to get their child that one particular toy. These people will go to extreme lengths to get said toy for their child, waiting in line for hours on end, pushing and shoving when in the store, even resorting to bribing the sales associates. It's sad. And doesn't provide a good role model for the kids. 

I witnessed a little of this craziness over Christmas time and again the other day when I ventured into a toy store to pick up some gifts for upcoming birthdays. I noticed out of the corner of my eye two grown women having a somewhat heated discussion. I didn't pay much attention; wasn't in the direction I was going in and for all I knew they were sisters giving each other 'sisterly advice'. I did however start to pay attention when I heard over the loud speaker 'clean up in aisle 6' and then almost immediately after 'Security to aisle 6'. 

As I made my way up to check out, I looked over to where the women had been earlier on, and found, somewhat to my amusement, the two women on the floor, essentially wrestling with each other and toys strewn all about. The poor security guard didn't know what to do with himself, and I personally think the rest of the staff standing there were just enjoying the show. 

When I got to the cashier, I asked her if she knew what was going on. Apparently there was only one left of a certain action figure (pretty popular toy for young boys - and close to sold out due to it's popularity and all the birthdays in July) and both women wanted it for their sons. They had called an associate over to find out if there were anymore in the stock room, and once they had been told 'no' and that more stock wouldn't arrive till the following week, it had become 'Wrestle Mania Mom Style'. Hence the toys being knocked off the shelf and the inept security detail. 

I was kind of shocked. I mean, you hear about these horror stories happening during Black Friday sales, but you never really believe them. Unfortunately, I was informed that it happens more than you would think. Most people are pretty cool about the situation, but every now and then, you get two people who are both, well let's just say they are extremely 'passionate' about providing for their child and 'toy wars' erupts.

And what's really sad, is that some parents feel that to show their child how much they love them, they have to go to these kinds of lengths. Kids learn these kinds of behaviors - if they associate 'love' with 'gifts' then unfortunately that's what they will grow up expecting.

I'm not saying to deny your child things they want - it would be a little hypocritical of me (I lurve buying fun stuff for Little P, but I also know that our house is only so big...) - I'm just saying that the next time you feel the need to get Little Johnny that 'super-duper-all-new-and-totally-fantastic toy, think twice about whether it's the toy he wants or just you playing with him.

Till next time, keep you elbows close to your body and your head protected.


Mommy-ism #22: Wooden blocks & bare feet do not make a good pair (end result is the 'Mommy in pain but cant swear dance, which also apparently provides Little P with some early morning entertainment).