Tutu Dress Fairy

I did finally decide for sure and for certain that Baby Bug is going to be a fairy this Halloween-the only problem was that I didn't want her to be dressed as Princess Fairy McSlutSlut, which seemed to be the only available option at our local store. Seriously-I don't care how cool it is, I am not putting my toddler in a dress that is super tight on top and only comes half way down her thigh-she can wait until she's sixteen to dress up like that for Halloween, just like I did.

So rather than go the premade slut-o-vision version of fairy-ness, I decided to make her a fairy dress from scratch. There were a lot of good patterns and options out there, but none of them were unique enough (or easy enough) until I found directions for a no sew tutu.

I didn't want to go for the straight up tutu because I knew that it would be difficult to tell if she was a ballerina or a fairy so I made my own version-a longer tutu dress! It is a halter dress, which she will be wearing with tights and a leotard underneath to stay warm (because the dress has no sleeves and is sheer). I put flowers at the top and throughout the skirt, added a little bit of ribbon, and voila!

Baby Bug's Garden Fairy Halloween Costume
[As made by a not-terribly-crafty-mom in about 2 hours]

Adorable, right? I am so proud of myself!! Of course, now I am feeling a bit of Mommy guilt over the fact that Monkey and The Bean both have store bought costumes while Baby Bug's were hand made, but I guess there is always next year. What are your kids going to be for Halloween? Do you make or buy costumes?

Sunday Ten Spot: Crazy Mom Says

You know how sometimes you say things to your kids and then you think...'I. CANNOT. BELIEVE. I. JUST. SAID. THAT!'? I end up laughing at myself so often, I thought it would be nice to give you a chance to laugh at me too. So here it is...the ten craziest things I've said to my kids this week (in no particular order).

(To Baby Bug) Get my foot out of your mouth.

(To Baby Bug) You are going to choke on that headband.

(To The Bean) Kitty poop is NOT A TOY!!!

(To Baby Bug) Yes, that [etching in poop she smeared on the wall] does look like mommy. Now wash it off.

(To Monkey) You can't marry mommy...why? Because it's incestuous, and I'm already married to daddy.

(To Monkey) Apples don't feel pain when I skewer them, but your sister does.

(To Monkey) Because teddy bears are not anatomically correct, that's why.

(To The Bean) Just because it smells like bubble gum doesn't mean it tastes like it.

(To Baby Bug) Stop wiping your butt on your bed.

(General Announcement to all Children) It's like Mommy's computer has a speeeeeecial kind of leprosy which makes it so that if anyone under 18 touches it their hands fall off.

Monkey, Growing Up

Every night when I tuck him into bed Monkey and I do the same routine. He hops into bed and I read him a story. We say prayers, I give him a hug and a kiss, and then I give him a smushy. A smushy is a big giant hug that turns into a tickle and ends in a kiss. I have been giving him smushies every single night of his life since he was 2 years old and we invented them-if I got distracted and tried to leave without a smushy he would cry until I went back for them. It's just our thing.

Tonight though was different. He is really getting into reading now, so he took The Cat in the Hat with him to bed. He was excited to read it (with the help of his Leap Pad system) so he rushed me through the story and prayers. No sooner did I say Amen then he grabbed up his book and opened it-then he looked up at me and said,

"Goodnight Mommy. I don't need any smushies."

Talk about a stab in the heart-he doesn't need any smushies! I'd be lying if I said my eyes didn't sting a little. I still made him give me a hug and kiss (as he will do, every night, until he leaves my home I don't care if he is 6, 16, or 26 SO THERE!) and he gave them, though he wiggled out of them as fast as he could. As I left his room he called out to me with his head still in his book,

" 'Night Mom!"

Mom?! What happened to Mommy? Ten seconds ago it was Mommy-why change now? Why change ever? I am not liking this-not at all. It reminds me that every day my baby needs me less and less and, someday, I won't be apart of his every day life. There will come a time when I will go for days (or, God forbid, longer) without seeing his smiling face, or listening to his laugh, or hearing the funny little stories he tells me.

I am going to be such a stalker when he grows up. Seriously-I already feel bad for his future wife. Who wants to have a mother in law who calls every day and begs for weekly (or bi-weekly, or tri-weekly or heck, nightly) dinners?

Apparently whoever decides to marry Monkey, that's who.

A Pictureless Wednesday

Today I had a pretty good day. I spent quiet time (the sacred daily ritual where all big kids go to their rooms to nap/stay quiet and leave mommy alone engage in independent play) hanging out online working diligently while The Bean rolled around playing on the floor. She loves to play and explore on the floor, but doesn't do it as much as she should/I would like because of that whole being-trampled-by-careless-older-siblings thing that I'm paranoid about. That's probably why she turned 10 months old two days ago and hadn't crawled yet.

That's right...hadn't. Our little Beanie crawled today! Okay, so it was mostly backwards. And she didn't so much crawl like you picture babies as crawling but rather got up on her knees and then pushed forward with her toes until she was flat out again (and about two inches forward of her previous position). Still, it was so cute and I am SO PROUD!

I wanted to get a picture of my last little baby crawling for the first time to show to you all (and keep in my special collection of child photo montages). I tried all day to get a picture for you. ALL. DAY. I really did, but she just wouldn't cooperate. I swear she waited until I put the camera down and then crawled on the sly. Then as soon as I picked up the camera she'd plop on the ground and roll away!

Oh well, I swear it really did happen-our littlest baby really did crawl.

It's kind of bitter sweet. The last baby I'll ever have is mobile. Is it a little pathetic that I feel like all of my children are now only seconds away from leaving the nest? Like soon they might not *sniffle* need their Mommy so much *sniffle*? I know, I know...they're 6, 2, and almost 1...but still! That's like two blinks away from teenage hood! Which we all know is only one big eye roll away from adulthood.

I'm just going to focus on being proud of their accomplishments and enjoying it while I can-so YAY for my little Beanie and her new found crawling power!

It Depends on Your Definition of "Job"

A conversation with Monkey while waiting at the urgent care....

Me: So, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Monkey: A doctor.

[Cue Me: Bursting with pride.]

Monkey: I like bones, and brains, and hearts and stuff and I want to help people and make them feel all better. Yeah, I really want to be a doctor...........

OR A ZEBRA.

Well, at least he's ambitious. I don't know anyone who has managed to have a successful career as a zebra yet.

Magic

I think that there are a few stories about everyones' childhood that make regular family circulation. They're the ones that, whenever the family sits down to talk about family history, keep popping up and make everyone laugh about how cute so-and-so was when they were a kid. There are three such stories about me.

The first is when I was two and a half. My mother was carrying my sister down the stairs of our apartment building and I was waiting at the bottom when someone pulled into the parking spot closest to the door. There were no assigned parking spaces, but this was the spot that my mother normally parked because it was very conveniently located to getting two small children up the stairs. That day my mother had not parked there but in my 30 month old mind this was OUR parking space so I walked directly up to the driver's side door, reached up, and tapped on the window.

"EXCUSE ME!" I shouted at the lady, or so the story goes.

"Can I help you?" Asked the lady.

"Yes. You are in my mom's parking spot. She needs this spot so that she can get my sister and I in and out of our apartment, you have to leave now."

"Um, there's no assigned parking." Said the lady, seemingly baffled as to why she is having this conversation with someone who is still young enough to drink from a sippy cup.

"Maybe you don't understand, ma'am. We NEED this spot and it's OURS, so you really need to move your car NOW."

"Maybe YOU don't understand that there are no assigned spots in this parking lot!" Apparently the lady started yelling at me. Who would yell at a toddler-even an articulate one? Apparently this lady. So I started yelling back. When my mom got down the stairs she saw me with my hands on my hips, giving a stern lecture to the car lady about how impolite it was of her to park in the space where my mother normally parked.

Of course everyone gets a big laugh out of that story-especially to hear my dad describe the lady's furious face when she confronted him later about "controlling his daughter" and how my dad just looked at her and said "SHE'S fine-SHE'S not the one fighting with a two year old in a parking lot."

Another big laugh getter is a story from just a little bit later. When I was about three, maybe four (no one can exactly remember) I was furious with my dad-no one remembers why. But they DO remember me tugging on my Nana's sleeve, crawling up into her lap, and saying-prim as you please-"Nana, we need to have a talk about your son." I really do wish I could remember the look on my Nana's face when I said that; I'm sure it was priceless.

The last story about me isn't so much one particular story, but is more about my character as a kid. My first complete sentence, at no more than 18 months, was "I told her no Mommy". As a kid my little sister would literally DO and EAT anything. My mother had both the ER and Poison Control on speed dial. Our pediatrician was like one of the family-you name it my sister ate it or did it. Jump off the couch and get a concussion? Twice. Eat poisonous plants? More times than I could count. Gum off the side walk? Check. Jump out of a two story window? Check. Drink half a bottle of mouthwash? Check. There was nothing my little sister wouldn't do-and that entire time I followed her around telling her no.

NO don't talk to strangers.

NO don't eat ABC gum.

NO you can't jump from the top of the monkey bars.

And then, when she inevitably did whatever it is I told her not to, I always made sure that my parents knew that I had advised her of the risks. In addition to being articulate I was a very calculating child.

The reason I bring all of this up is because Hubby and I were talking about this today. Once we were done talking a little and laughing about it Hubby asked me why none of our kids are like that-why none of the kidlets are talking in full sentences and telling people off in the parking lot as babies. I told him that it was just because all of our children have different talents than I did, but the truth is I'm glad they're not like me.

I had to grow up way too fast. Those stories, while cute and fun to laugh at, always make me a little sad. I didn't talk at 18 months because it was fun and I had things to say-I did it because I constantly had to watch out for my sister, and before I was even out of diapers I was responsible for monitoring her and reporting to my parents if she had done anything while they weren't looking. I didn't tell off that lady just because I was highly opinionated (though I was and still am today) I did it because I felt that someone had to protect what my family needed and no one else was stepping up. I referred to my own dad as my Nana's son because, even in preschool, my relationship with him was more adult-to-adult than parent-to-child.

I am SO GLAD the kidlets aren't like I was. I'm grateful that my babies have carefree childhoods and stars in their eyes. I'm pleased that they think we have an unlimited supply of money and they don't worry about bills when they ask for birthday presents. I'm so blessed by the fact that they think that Hubby and I can fix anything. Nothing makes me happier than to know that, though there is good and bad in everything, our children will grow up and look back on their childhoods as a magical time of joy and exploration and freedom. A time when Daddy was the strongest man in the world, Mommy's kisses healed every wound, and chocolate chip cookies were always in abundant supply-and though I know that they will have to be adults someday, a part of me will always wish that they could stay as UNlike me as they are today.

Instructions

Here are the actual instructions for the use of the pink eye medicine:

• Clean the eyelids.
• Pull down lower lid and put in gel.
• Close eye for 1-2 minutes.
• Repeat four times per day for seven days.

Here are the instructions I think should be included for use with children:

• Wrestle child into the chair.
• Wipe their eye.
• Wash and disinfect their hands after they rub their eye because they don't like the feeling of their eye being washed.
• Wipe their eye again, threaten child to keep them from touching it.
• Wait until child stops screaming.
• Pull down child's lower lid, dodging your child's flailing arm/foot.
• Instruct child to open their eyes.
• Instruct child to open their eyes.
• Bribe child with candy to open their eyes.
• Threaten child with blindness if they do not open their eyes.
• Beg child to open their eyes.
• FORCE child's eye open using two hands. Have stand by person squirt them in the eye, trying not to accidentally blind child with the tip of the medication tube as they thrash their head back and forth.
• Quickly grab child's hands to prevent them from rubbing the medicine out.
• Instruct child to close their eyes and keep them closed.
• Instruct child that YOU ARE SERIOUS, THEY MUST KEEP THEIR EYES CLOSED.
• Tell them if they keep their eyes closed for two minutes there will be candy waiting for them when it's time to open their eyes.
• Find a piece of candy nearby so that you can be sure the child is not opening their eyes.
• Allow child to open their eyes, feed them candy.
• Bang head against counter in exhaustion/frustration.
• Repeat in six hours every day until all sanity (and pink eye) is gone.

Here's Goo in Your Eye

Can I tell you about my day? It was a doozie. After three hours of sleep I was awakened like normal at 7, made the kids some pancakes, and called all of our bill people to try to straighten things out since we spent over $100 that was supposed to be for bills taking Monkey to the urgent care and then to the hospital Sunday night. The bad news came in that I had to go and have a meeting to get one of my bills paid because somebody wanted to see me in person...so I spent FOUR HOURS on the bus today.

And that was just the beginning...

As soon as I'm 30 minutes away from home I start my period sitting right there on the bus. AWESOME. Of course it has to be then-before my meeting, when I'm away from home and have no girl stuff on me (since the last real period I had was in June of 09). So I have to go the rest of the one and a half bus hours with nothing. I race to the bathroom and buy something out of the dispenser before my meeting, and the meeting goes well [Thank God]. I should have known that was not a good sign (once one good thing happens to me, many bad things must follow), because as soon as I leave I get a call from Hubby saying,

"Uhhhhh, honey? What does pink eye look like? Because I'm pretty sure Monkey has it."

More awesomeness.

As soon as I got home I ran upstairs to check on Monkey and sure enough, he had pink eye in his left eye. I swear to you I cannot even tell you how many times I've told that child to wash his hands after he goes to the bathroom, but here you go-pink eye. Apparently I just rant for my own amusement. What can I do? I rub the gunk off of his face, put him in a clean shirt, and get right back on the bus and travel 30 more minutes to urgent care.

AGAIN. SUPER AWESOME.
Do you know what it's like trying to keep a kid on the bus from touching anything (thereby infecting the whole world with their nasty eye goo)? It's like trying to watch a cracked out octopus. Eventually we make it to the urgent care where (hallelujah!) they have hand sanitizer. We set up camp next to the Purell and are waiting to see the doctor when Monkey tells me his eye itches.

His OTHER eye.

Yep, he has pink eye in BOTH EYES. ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRG!

Right before I threaten to hog tie him to keep him from touching/infecting the urgent care, we get into the back with the doctor and she asks about his symptoms. She tells me that fever and cough don't go with pink eye, so she checks him out a little more-turns out he has a cold and the beginning of an ear infection too.

Yep-a cold, an ear infection, and DOUBLE PINK EYE all in the same kid.

I feel bad for the poor dear. I really do. He is totally miserable right now, and I am babying the crap out of him I promise you...but let me be totally selfish for a moment and say I feel pretty bad for myself too. Hubby steam cleaned both of the kids' rooms while Monkey and I were gone, but I'm going to have to scrub the entire downstairs top to bottom, disinfect all the toys, and do all of the laundry in this house tomorrow.

After being up 22 hours with a sick kid and then getting four hours of sleep on Sunday, being up 20 hours with a teething baby and getting three hours of sleep last night, and spending my entire day running around like a headless chicken today I have even MORE to do tomorrow because of all of this my bankruptcy paperwork sits still unfinished (and lightly scribbled on by a certain Baby Bug) on top of the 6 jillion other things I have to do.

I have never been on a vacation in my entire life, but I think NOW might be the time. Anybody up for Mai Tais in Hawaii? I'll meet you there once I figure out how to sprout wings and fly (but I promise I'll bathe in Purell first).

*Cough*Sniffle*

We have sick babies here today. Well, The Bean is only teething, but she's running a slight temp and is of course cranky as all get out. Monkey is actually sick and we ended up having to make a run to the urgent care today when he spiked to 102.2 under the arm. He was crying pretty hysterically, and we were pretty worried, so we wanted to have somebody look at him. Thank God they think it's just strep, and he's finally asleep now, but we're all wiped.

So I'm off to bed. See you all tomorrow!

Under Pressure

We all want to be that woman-whose husband makes googley eyes every time he sees her, whose house is perfectly spotless, and whose children are all perfectly coiffed perfectly well mannered and organized...but let's face it-no one can be everything to every one. You're not going to be able to be a Playmate in the bedroom, Donna Reid in the living room, and June Cleaver in the gym during every PTA meeting. If you are under the impression that you can be all of these things at once, may I respectfully ask that you submit yourself for either genetic testing and/or psychiatric evaluation because the harsh reality is that, unless I missed something, we are all feeling pressure from impossible expectations--and that has some major impacts on our marriages. The truth is that all of these pressures come from inside ourselves, so today I'm going to talk about what these expectations are, how they impact our marriages, and how we can deal with them so that our marriage doesn't suffer from our disillusions of super-humanity.

THE PRESSURE: Being Sexy All The Time
REALITY CHECK:
We used to be hot. When we first started dating our husbands we were all sexy singles, dressed to the nines and perfectly manicured. We were fun, flirty, and flashy...and now we smell like Moms (you know that baby pee/spit up/sweat combo) and look like bums because let's face it-we don't have a lot of down time to focus on silly stuff like personal hygiene with all these kids running around! We know that these running pants aren't going to win us any fashion awards or grab hubby's attention any, but we feel kind of stumped as to what we can do.

We feel this pressure because we WANT to be hot. We miss being sexy all the time and long to ditch the sweats for the sweater dresses. The bad news is that's not always practical. The good news is that I have some tips.

When you get dressed for the day put out at least two extra changes of clothing. When you do this you set yourself up so that later when your outfit gets boogers wiped on it/spit up all over it you can just run up stairs and change without having to spend a lot of time messing around. Also, figure out one or two items of clothing that your Hubby especially appreciates and wear those more often. For instance my husband likes it when I wear dresses, so I do my best to wear dresses several days a week. Are they clean? Meh...ish. Are they perfectly put together into a stylized ensemble? No way....but he likes dresses so there they are. Does your husband like pink on you, or love it when you wear neck scarves? Pull em out. You might not look high fashion, or even very clean, but you made an effort and he'll notice!

For more tips for your love life, check out my post on other ways to keep the spark alive.

THE PRESSURE: Household Management Above Reproach
REALITY CHECK:
You have kids, right? Well unless you keep them in dog crates your house is going to be dirty. I think it was Phyllis Diller who said "cleaning the house while your children are still young is like shoveling the walk while it's still snowing". Realistically speaking you can OCD over it all you want but it's just not going to be spotless so long as little ones live there. The same goes for organization.

Oh it's good to make an effort of course-that's the only way to stave off total anarchy and filth-but please realize that unless you can add another 6 hours into the day you're just not going to get it all done. Look around you-does it look like a biohazard? Would anyone feel tempted to call the CDC, or a microbiologist? No? Well you're okay then.

Still, despite the "non toxic" policy that I have established some husbands (like mine) still get to be a big grumpy pants when they feel like the house is "too cluttered". How do you help your Hubby feel comfortable without breaking out the blood, sweat, and possibly tears? Keep his areas tidy. Does he go straight for the coffee pot after work? Create an invisible force field around it free of clutter. Put his coffee cup and creamer and stuff right next to the pot and voila! He'll look right over the stack of papers. Does he have a favorite chair? Keep everything off of it, and put his slippers next to it. He'll most likely step over all the toys without thinking if he knows he can sink into HIS chair and HIS slippers on the other end. Give him a special drawer where he can put all of his stuff that no one else in the house is allowed to touch-that way he doesn't have to sift through piles of stuff to find his nail clippers or his drawing pencils.

That is the secret to men as far as I can tell-if he has unhampered access to everything he wants/uses, he will definitely not pressure you so much about organization.

THE PRESSURE: Super Mom
Reality Check:
Say it with me now-We ALL have flaws. I WILL forget something that was important to my child. I WILL lose my temper. I WILL pack the wrong lunch, say the wrong thing, and accidentally encourage bad habits. I WILL want to run away from home sometimes and WILL probably lock myself in the bathroom for some peace...but I DO love my children and I AM a good mother.

Now believe it.

I know that's easier said than done, so feel free to repeat it over and over and over to yourself if you have to. What does this have to do with your marriage, you might ask? Well, if you're busy worrying about being Super Mom you might forget about your role as a wife altogether. I've seen it happen. I've done it myself on occasion. It's easy to get hooked into perfecting your child's five tiered home made birthday cake only to realize hours later that you didn't even kiss your husband goodnight.

It's also all too easy to mentally lump your husband in with your children. BIG no-go on that one. It seems like a small thing-I mean, you take care of him and you take care of them-but lumping him in with the kids will almost always turn into you treating him like one of the kids. Not husband-wife relationship friendly.

So what's the cure for Super Mom-itis? I don't know that there is one. This is a big, society-wide pressure. The best way that I've found to deal with it is just to prioritize. Make a list (either physical or mental) that absolutely MUST be done or else something bad will happen to your family. So eating would be on the list, dusting is off. Packing the kids lunch may be on the list, but packing them rack of lamb with a pudding cup for dessert is definitely off. Then, think about the things that you want to get done, but aren't crucial. If you set small, realistic goals for yourself and feel confident that you have taken care of your families real needs it makes it a little easier to step out of the shadow of the Super Mom idea.

In fact creating and meeting small, realistic goals while meeting your family's basic needs is really the entire idea behind fighting all of these internal pressures. We all want to give our families our best, but don't risk your sanity to do it. A sane wife and mom who only does some stuff is better than a crazy person who does everything but burns out in a day or two. Next time you feel pressure just think-we love our families enough to do everything in moderation.

Besides I'm totally digging that whole funky-cute, sorta-organized, good and yet sane parent thing we have going on.

Nothing Special

Nothing really happened. We didn't do anything big, none of the kids reached any new milestones (although The Bean has definitely perfected the art of saying "Dada" and meaning it), and I can't exactly pinpoint anything that was especially fabulous-still, we had a really good day. The kids were so great today-funny, loving, laughing, playing nicely-and I got to share that with my parents who stopped by for a visit.

Not every day is this good, and sometimes it is so easy for me to get overwhelmed in the amount of work that three small kids require that I forget how wonderful they really are. I'm glad days like this come around to remind me. I always love my family, but today Hubby and the kidlets and I just felt really close. Today was filled with hugs and snuggles, tickles and toys, laughs and a whole lot of love-even if "nothing" happened, it's been a very nice reminder of why I love being a mommy.

I hope you all had a good day.

Memories

I was talking (or typing, whatever) with Angela today and I mentioned that my dad's birthday is coming up on the 27th. I told her that my dad is going to be 44 this year and her reaction was "wow he's so young!" I guess that's true, though I don't think about it often. More often than not I think about how old my dad is getting.

Now before you comment-stone-me-to-death I'm not saying that 44 is old. It's just that when I think of my dad I always picture him in my head like he was when I was a little girl. My first crystal clear memories of him are from when I was about three or four and my dad was either 22 or 23...he might not be old now, but he has definitely gotten a LOT older since then.

When I was a kid my dad was a rocker. He used to wear tight t-shirts with holes in them and leather vests and jeans that were so ripped it was only the reinforced seams that held them together. My dad had long, shaggy hair and an earring (I guess he still technically does though I can't remember seeing him wear it for years). He used to drive 85 miles an hour in his 300z with the moon roof off. By the time I was 9 years old I had still never heard of Raffi but I knew all of the lyrics to Cheap Trick, Ozzy, Nirvana, Blue Oyster Cult, Smashing Pumpkins, Soundgarden, The Breeders, and Alanis Morisette. My dad was saving up for two things-a Harley-Davidson and a huge Celtic back tattoo.

Don't misunderstand me, my dad was a responsible parent. He paid his child support and drove from Arizona to Washington every other weekend for visitation. He listened to me talk, and taught me how to be well behaved, and blew bubbles with me in the yard...but he was still very young. A rock-n-roller at heart-this is still how I picture him in my head whenever I talk about him, and that's why it's so surprising every time I see him and I see how much older he is.

My dad has his Harley now and he rides it often during the summer, but he does it wearing his Levis and cowboy boots. His hair is short and is graying in a very distinguished way around his temples and in his goatee. Tired of putting contacts in and out, my dad wears his thick, oval, wire rimmed glasses nearly all the time now. He still wears t-shirts and a leather jacket-he bought them at JC Penny-but he is just as likely to wear a button down shirt. He listens mostly to jazz and country, though I've heard him break out the BOC every once in a while, and drives a big pick up when he's not on the bike.

Even more than what he wears and listens to, my dad's attitude has mellowed so much-especially since he turned forty. My dad may still go to the gym four days a week, but he also naps on the couch in the afternoons. He has gone from being weary of the word "grandpa" to actively attempting to train the children to make that be their first word. He's so much more open and affectionate now, and a lot less pig headed and grumpy (though I still wouldn't let him carry a concealed hand gun in traffic).

My dad has always been a good guy, but in the last twenty years he has grown. I suppose that's only natural of course-twenty years will change anybody. Still I will always picture him in my head as the Metallica-blaring butt rocker he once was. That's why it's so shocking to me to see him as he is now...why he seems so old-compared to how he is in my head.

I wonder if the kidlets will think of me that way. When I think about it I'm sure they will-If Monkey remembers me how I was when he was three that means I will be permanently burned into his brain at the age of 21. I'm not sure how I feel about that, though I certainly hope that he'll look back on me as fondly (and as kindly) as I look back on my dad in his youth. We all get older, and we'll all change, but what matters I think is making good memories with our loved ones no matter what stage of our lives we are in.

Wordless Wednesday: The Most Wonderful Time of the Day

Some days are rough. Really rough. Like today-and on those days I cannot even express to you how much I love bedtime. I love bedtime almost as much as I love The Bean in all of her teething glory, or Baby Bug as she cruises right on through her Terrible Twos, or Monkey as his mood swings from one extreme to another when he feels slighted for attention. Bedtime really is magical.

*The Bean does not sleep in her toy thingy when she goes to bed...I just thought that was a really cute picture of her sleeping.

Sunday Ten Spot: Procrastination

Ten ways to avoid doing chores during nap time
10. Play Guitar Hero
9. Catch up on your DVR recordings
8. Read a good book (or a bad one, in a pinch)
7. Look up "housework" on Wikipedia
6. Facebook
5. Do a cross word in pen-start a new one if you mess up
4. Complete at least one whole phone conversation without interruptions
3. Take a bubble bath
2. Blog
1. Nap!

Do you have a list this week? Link below and I'll come visit!

Wanted: Clone

Today was SO crazy and SO exhausting that I was about thirty seconds away from posting this ad on Craigslist today:

A position is open in the House of M for a Mommy Clone. Job responsibilities include cooking, feeding, cleaning, homeschooling, butt wiping, argument mediation, scheduling, bookkeeping, personal assistant duties including (but not limited to) grocery shopping and other errand running, in addition to working a "real fake job" from home 6-8 hours a day 7 days a week for which you will receive occasional outside compensation (the amount of which is unpredictable and will not be disclosed). The Mommy Clone position offers no pay, time off, or health insurance, but you will be allowed to sleep three hours a night* and receive compensation in the form of undying love, hugs, kisses, snuggles, and adoration.

Anyone who is still interested please undergo a psychological exam before applying, 'cause girl you must be crazy.

*Sleep will not necessarily take place "at night", nor will the hours necessarily take place in a row, but is instead an allotted accumulation of sleep hours per 24 hour period.

Ho Ho No-Christmas Without Santa

I love the Christmas season-I love the spirit of peace and giving, I love the lights, I LOVE LOVE LOVE Christmas carols, and of course above all I love Jesus who, according to my beliefs, is the Ultimate Gift that I commemorate this holiday. Still-no matter how and why I love Christmas, believe it or not, here in the House of M we do Christmas sans-Santa style. Monkey recognizes Santa, and knows about him, but as far as he is concerned Santa is like Kai-Lan....cool, and fun, but pretend. For obvious reasons our decision is not very popular amongst our friends and family, but what may be less obvious are the reasons that we have decided to forgo the jolly fat man.

I should say first that we don't have anything personal against Mr. Claus-we think the qualities that Santa stands for are very admirable, and we don't "do" the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy or any other imaginary house guests either. It should also be said that we don't have any problem with other people inviting the Claus into their Christmas celebrations-regardless of a person's beliefs he can fit in nicely into any home and create great holiday traditions. We personally just don't feel that Santa works for us.

One reason we don't do Santa is because we feel that he takes attention away from the focus that our family chooses to have during this season. For us, the holiday season is primarily about spiritual gifts, and about our faith, and while Santa is very nice we don't feel that he has a place next to Jesus.

We also feel that it is too easy for little kids to make a connection between Santa and Jesus-after all they are both supposed to be kind, both are supposed to be omnipresent and omnipotent, and both are invisible to kids but supposed to live in your heart...which is all fine and good until the inevitable moment when a kid is told or figures out that there is no Santa. What does this mean for their faith in God, which is based on so many similar ideas as a belief in Santa?

While we would prefer to avoid a major crisis of faith while our kids are too small to really think everything through, we don't ultimately have a problem with our kids questioning their faith when the time comes and they have the capability to-however during that time they spend discovering their faith, and in fact throughout their entire lives, it is important to us that our children trust us to tell them the absolute truth. No matter how pleasant the idea of Santa is, and it is, we wouldn't be able to both be honest and encourage a belief in Santa.

Whenever we tell people that we don't believe in Santa, there are always objections about 'the fun and excitement of Christmas'. I can assure you-the kidlets still have plenty of fun and excitement. We have regular family traditions for them to look forward to, and let's be honest-kids are excited for presents regardless of the occasion. They still learn about the spirit of giving and fraternity and faith, and they still have plenty of joy and wonder in the holiday from our faith. Our kids experience Christmas just like any other kids-we just don't get our holiday spirit from Santa Claus.

And we have plenty of holiday spirit-everyone in the House of M is counting the days until Christmas. The day after Thanksgiving, as is our tradition, we busted out the Christmas carols and everybody had a great time singing along. We plan on getting our tree next week, and Monkey and I are going to string popcorn and cranberries together. I'm looking forward to our annual watching of How The Grinch Stole Christmas and Merry Christmas Charlie Brown and our special family reading of the nativity story, and Monkey can't wait for Christmas Eve at Grandpa's and orange rolls Christmas morning.

We're all geared up for a very happy holiday-what are your family traditions?

Bedtime Stories

Today was a really hard day. The kids were all awake and downstairs by 6:30 in the morning, so naturally they were all tired and cranky beyond reason. They refused to sleep during nap and so only got worse and worse as the day went on. By late afternoon their horrible attitudes had rubbed off on Hubby and me-we were snipping at each other, the kids were crying and screaming and stomping at every turn, and bedtime couldn't come fast enough. Baby Bug goes down at 7, by which time The Bean is usually asleep and was today, so that helped, but by the time it was Monkey's turn at 8 I was so ready to put him to bed and try to relax.

As I put Monkey to bed I saw Baby Bug hanging out next to her baby gate (which we use in front of her door now that she can open and close it on her own) saying "Up! Up! Up! Mama Up!" and thought with a sigh this is going to be a long night. I helped Monkey into bed and asked him,

"Are you ready for your bedtime story?"

He looked at me, and then at Baby Bug, and said, "No, Mommy. I want to tell Baby Bug a story tonight. Can I?"

"Sure," I said, and we went over to the baby gate. Baby Bug's face lit up with delight. She turned her little face up and puckered her lips at her big brother and made a "muah" noise, signaling she was waiting for a kiss, and he leaned down and kissed her.

"Love Ooooo" Baby Bug said.

"Love you too," Monkey replied and brushed her hair out of her forehead, "Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" She was so thrilled. She put her little cheek down to rest on the baby gate and looked adoringly at her big brother.

"Okay," Monkey started, "Once upon a time...." and then he paused and looked at me. "Mommy, you have to go now. This is just for Baby Bug from her big brother."

"Well, alright," I said. I kissed them both and exchanged I love yous.....and went around the corner, hiding a quarter of the way down the stairs to listen.

Monkey told Baby Bug a story about the man in the moon, and how he listens to all of your wishes. He listens to the wishes of big brothers, and baby sisters, and mommies and daddies too, and then he sprinkles moon fuzzies on you.

Baby Bug oooohed and aaaaahed at all the right places, and Monkey's voice was so animated excitedly making up the story as he went along. He ended it with a big "Theeeeeeeeeeeeee End" and Baby Bug clapped. Then monkey said to her,

"Alright baby sister, it's time for bed now. Give me a hug and a kiss."

Baby Bug made the "muah" noise, "Love you", she said.

"Love you too", replied monkey, "now go crawl in bed."

He paused, and I could hear the rustling of Baby Bug crawling into her toddler bed. "Good job Baby Bug," Monkey said. "I love you all the way up to the moon and back, baby sister."

"Night night" said Baby Bug.

"Night night, baby" said Monkey.

I heard him crawling into his own bed then, and I sat and strained to listen. All I could hear was the sound of the kids whispering quietly to their stuffed animals, and I started to cry. Next to the day my husband asked me to marry him, those were the happiest tears I have cried in my entire life. Heck, I'm crying just thinking about it. I am so proud of my boy, caring for his little sister-so proud of my sweet daughter, adoring her big brother so much. My children-for all of their noise and grumpiness-are the sweetest, most affectionate, loving children a mother was ever blessed with.

It was a wonderful day after all.

It's A Mom Thing

Like every mom in the world I have had about 10,000 things going in the two weeks (hence the sporadic blog posts...sorry!). I had my SITS day, we celebrated our 7th Anniversary, I started a long term work at home job (which I'll talk about later), I've had two contract web design jobs, I've been gathering together prizes for my upcoming Christmas giveaway (It's a surprise-details coming soon!), the kids and I have been a bit under the weather, we've been trying to set plans for the holidays....yep, true to Mommy form I'm running around like a headless chicken collecting a lot of awesome blog fodder. Maybe even too much blog fodder-I have so much to write about I hardly know where to start!

I've decided to start with something fun and relaxing-I have been tagged by Samantha of Apple Juice and Milk to talk about 5 experiences that have helped shape me into a Theta Mom (a true, authentic Mom).

1. Of course first on my list is pregnancy and childbirth. I know, shock. Still, I think nothing says trial-by-fire like the whole "making and birthing a tiny human" thing. With each of my pregnancies I "enjoyed" new opportunities to experience motherhood in all new ways. With my first pregnancy (Monkey!) I experienced the damning judgment that comes with teen pregnancy (even though I was emancipated!), 9 months of crippling hyperemesis (I was hospitalized on average three times a week), and the joy of delivering a child with a 14 1/2 inch head (thank GOD for epidurals!). With Baby Bug I was introduced to the most excruciating experience of my entire life [yes, even more painful than childbirth] as I passed gallstones for 14 weeks before they induced me (and then for six more weeks after that). With The Bean I got to UNWILLINGLY experience the natural child birth of a baby with a 13 1/2 inch head.

Yep. Trial by fire I tell you.

2. Next on my list is the emotional experience I had with Baby Bug. When the hormones kicked in I became crazy. When we found out that she was a girl I was terrified-my experience with my mother was so profoundly awful, and I was so terribly hormonal, that all I could do was cry for weeks. Then, just as I came to a kind of peace with the fact that just because my mom was a dreadful mother to her daughter didn't mean I would carry that on, I began to absolutely obsess over the fear that Monkey would feel abandoned by his Mommy. I began to feel like a Judas-as if I were trading in our son for another baby. The guilt was crushing. I was devastated. How could I possibly love them both at once? How could I willingly betray our precious son by having another baby that would steal me away from him? WHAT KIND OF A MOTHER AM I?! All of these thoughts swirled in my head so furiously that on the night before we were induced I was a giant sobbing wreck. I bawled my eyes out all over Hubby, traumatized, absolutely certain that giving birth to Baby Bug would be no less painful than driving a dagger through our son's heart.

Then Baby Bug was born....and I waited for that moment of instant bonding that happened when Monkey was born, and it didn't happen. I had twice the guilt-not only did I betray our darling first born by having a second baby, but I was neglecting our newborn daughter because of my inability to instantaneously bond with her. I did everything I could to try to force it, but it just wasn't happening and I felt lower than pond scum. Then one day I just let it go. I relaxed-I figured even if we couldn't bond the same way Monkey and I did that I still loved her and that was all that mattered...and you know what? It happened. I relaxed and let go and that bond between my oldest daughter and I snuck right up on me. Now she is my heart's sunshine, and I couldn't even imagine not adoring her in every way-but that experience certainly shaped me as a mom.....I learned that every child is different, and every relationship is different, but there is enough love and enough bonding experiences to go around for everybody if I just let my relationships with my children grow and develop naturally at their own pace.

3. Another thing that has made me a true, authentic mom is my lifestyle. What is so weird about being a stay at home, minivan loving, homeschooling mom? Nothing....unless you come from a family of career driven, Harley riding, public school teachers like I do-in which case you're the black sheep. [Baaaa!] I have spent Monkey's entire life defending my lifestyle choices to my family and I fully expect that I will need to do so until the last of our children leaves home, but it's worth it. I love my kids, and I will do what I think is best for them and I will defend that decision to the ends of the earth. A mama bear takes care of her baby bears.

4. To me, being a true authentic mom means being honest about being a regular person. I'm the first one to tell you that I'm not Super Mom-no matter how hot I think the boots are, I could never fill them. Nor could I be some uber serene Little House on the Prairie mom. I am not the freestyle Hippie Mom or the Donna Reid incarnate. I'm just me. I'm just a normal person, with a slightly elevated level of patience and the ability to work really hard.......by necessity and training, not virtue I assure you.

5. One of the personal hurdles I have overcome as a mom in the last five years is my disturbing addiction to sleep. I used to be a sleep junkie-sleeping 6, maybe 7 hours in a row some days. As a mom however the decision was made for me I decided that I needed to ratchet that nasty eyes-closed-resting-peacefully habit down to a minimum, and so I have. I haven't slept more than 5 hours in a row since before I got pregnant with Baby Bug...in JUNE 07. My average sleep time per 24 hour period is 3 hours, usually broken up into one two hour segment and a one hour nap later in the day. I have successfully pruned my sleep down to the bare minimum required to function on a slightly better than brain dead level.

Now that's a sure sign of being a real mom.

If you read this entire post, you're awesome and you should post too! I tag all of you, and I promise to read your posts even if it is obscenely long like mine is or even obsceneier. [Yep, obsceneier. That's what you get on two hours of sleep.] What makes you a true, authentic mom? Just link it in the comments and I'll stop by!

It's Like This

Right before my fabulous SITS day, I got an award. I haven't gotten around to it until now (just like so so many emails...but I'm getting there!) but I wanted to be sure to post it, because I feel a particular attachment to this award.

It's the Tell It Like It Is Award from The Crazy Baby Mama for "bloggers who use the language of humor to speak the truth".

Thank you so much, Baby Mama. Now, true to form, I will now proceed to tell it.

I have had it up to my eyeballs with Perfect Mom.

You know the one-she walks around on tip toes and makes flowing hand gestures. She delicately scrap books the daily pictures she takes of her children into a hand made memory book. She uses her Snow White sing-song voice to tell you how beautiful motherhood is and how perfect her children are and how she could never be upset with her "little blessings". I get it. My kids are blessings too, and I love them with all my heart. Truly. But if you are trying to tell me that motherhood is all sunshine all the time you are either:

• A. Lobotomized
• B. On enough meds to take out a baby elephant
• C. Lying through your teeth
• D. The proud mommy of a Yorkie

My kids are blessings-but they are also tiny ninjas bent on destruction. My kids are angels-particularly while they are sleeping. I love motherhood-but I do not hesitate to extend nap time by an hour when the spawnlings are causing too much chaos for me to handle. I love my children with all of my heart-and some days that is the ONLY thing that prevents me from putting them in large dog crates and selling them on EBay. I get tired, I get mad, I get impatient, I get overwhelmed, I get lonely

and you do too.

Come on and admit it, Perfect Mom. I have actually spent time raising children...you can't lie to me. Say it LOUD and say it PROUD

MY KIDS MAKE ME FLIPPIN' CRAZY [but I love them anyway]

There now, don't we all feel better?

I Like Halloween, Just Not Scary Things

When I was younger, I used to like scary movies. The Final Destination and Urban Legend series were some of my favorite movies when I was a teenager. I like getting freaked out over what was going to happen next and trying to figure out who the "bad guy" was. Now as an adult I don't watch scary movies. Ever. The scariest movie I've watched in years was Pan's Labyrinth and that was by accident-I thought it was supposed to be more of a fairy tale. I just can't watch scary movies anymore and I remember exactly the moment when I turned that corner.

When I was 17 I was living with three roommates in a house in an older section of town. My three roommates lived upstairs in different sections of the house and I took the room in the basement because it was bigger and had a semi-private entrance. Usually though I hung out and watched TV and surfed the web upstairs in the living room because that was the nicest part of the house. It had a huge fluffy couch and a way bigger TV than I had in my room and a huge 60 gallon aquarium filled with beautiful tropical fish.

On one of my nights off my roommate invited me to watch a movie with him and his girlfriend on the big TV upstairs. Hubby (who was "just" my boyfriend at the time) was working and not able to come over until the wee hours of the morning, so I figured it would be a fun way to be distracted and not just sit around bored while I waited for him to get to my place. They had rented The Ring. Remember, at this point, I still loved scary movies so I'd been watching and waiting for it to come out to be available to rent and I was super excited to watch.

It was, by far, THE SCARIEST MOVIE I HAVE EVER SEEN. Just the thought of it still nearly sends me into a panic attack it was that freakin' scary. At least, to me. I'll spare you the super scary parts, but basically it's about a tape that if you watch it someone calls you and tells you that you're going to die in 7 days. And then you do-because your TV magically turns on by itself and a bone chilling little girl crawls out of a well, then straight out of your TV and gets you, leaving water puddles on your floor.

Scared. The. Pee. Out. Of. Me.

I decided that the best way to calm down would be to go lay down in my room and read my favorite book (Wuthering Heights, totally not scary) and wait for Hubby to come. As I laid on my bed reading my book I was doing fine...until I heard water. Trust me, you do not want to hear running water directly after you watch this movie. I start panicking a little until I realize hey-the aquarium is directly above me. I tell myself no big deal. Calm down. Read your book.

Then the power flashes.

And my TV turns itself on.

And I scream (and maybe pee myself a little).

Still, I tell myself to get a grip. The power flashed. Whatever. It happens. My TV is old. The circuits in the house are weird. Maybe I sat on the remote. Whatever-just get up and unplug the TV and you'll feel better. So I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed and go to unplug the TV..............and step in a giant puddle of water.

I totally lost it. I run screaming upstairs, crying my eyes out. Not my most shining moment, especially once my roommate figured out that it was just the washer (also located in the basement) which had a broken hose. Still, logic or no logic, I was scared out of my skin so I invited myself to sleep on the floor in my roommate's room-on the side away from the door-until Hubby came over. My roommate and his girlfriend were TOTALLY laughing at me, but I didn't care. That stuff was scary.

Ever since, I haven't been a big fan of scary things and every year I get less and less tolerant. Still, after Monkey was born I made one exception---Halloween! I actually really like it now-from the Mom side of things it isn't scary at all! I get to dress up the babies in adorable costumes and take them to my parents' house where they can collect candy....most of which Baby Bug is still conveniently too young to eat, but not too young to share with Mommy.

MMMMMMM-Candy.

AAAAAAAAW-Adorable Costumes.

Yep, I like Halloween.....so long as it isn't scary.

I hope everyone has a fun, safe, adorable, delicious Halloween!