I'm Back!

For now. Can't tell you how long I'm staying either.

I've had a few people ask me what I'm up to these days. Sit down. Grab a cup of coffee. Here's a typical day in my life.

12 to 5 am- Am woken up at least twice by Palmer/Henry/George/Gus.

7 am-(on a good day. Earlier on a bad day)- Drag myself out of bed to grab Henry and/or Palmer. Make breakfast and spoon feed each child something healthy so Eggo pancakes aren't the only thing they consume. Coffee. Feed self. Clean up mess.

8 am- morning chores (start laundry, unload dishwasher, make beds, pick up toys). This process is never quick or easy. I'm interupted every 5-10 minutes for anything from a diaper change to breaking up a fight over toys. Yes, it's already started.

9 am- get kids ready to get out of the house. I don't always know where I'm going, but I know it when I get there. Usual suspects are the pediatrician's office, playground, play date, grocery shopping, gym, and/or library. Getting ready before kids involved a nice shower with scented shower gel. Blowing my hair dry. Make-up. Perfume. Sometimes ironing my outfit. Now? Tears are involved in getting ready. Mostly Henry and Palmer's, but sometimes mine too. I can't find Henry's other Croc. I can't find Blue Truck. I will not let Palmer play in the toilet. I won't let Henry wear his astronaut costume. I won't let Palmer climb the stairs. I look fat. Still. And I definitely didn't get a shower.

10 am- breathe sigh of relief because we are going somewhere! And then we get there and it's chaos.

11 am- Panic at the disco/pediatrician's office/playground/playdate/grocery store/gym/library. Because: children.

12 pm- Lunch. See breakfast.

1 pm- Nap time. The big misconception about nap time is that it is some three hour long period where responsibility doesn't exist. False. First of all, only recently have I been able to get both kids down at the same time. Even then, it's a small window of overlap. What do I choose to do with that time? Depends. I lie down for 20 minutes. OR I read a book for 20 minutes OR I shower. Usually, I lie down. Because: children.

2 to 4pm- Palmer is usually up by 2, so it's time to take George out and get the mail. Switch washer to dryer. Prep for dinner. Pick up toys. Pay a few bills. Write a few thank you notes. Try to find the bottom of my dining room table. Try to entertain Palmer who is boooooored without Henry.

4 pm- Henry wakes up around this time. He is cranky when he wakes up, so I put him in front of the TV and wait for the storm to pass. Try to keep Palmer off the stairs since our babygate is broken.

4:30 pm- Storm has passed. Henry wants to do something as does Palmer, who is tired of being cooped up inside. So we take a walk or go to a close playground and take George too. OR I have to make an emergency run to Giant for some dinner ingredient I don't have or get beer. Usually it's beer.

5 pm- Try to get dinner started. I don't usually get very far. I usually hit a wall around this time and give up, turn on NickToons, crack open a beer and wait until Ryan gets home. It's not peaceful, though. There are diaper changes, potty trips, snack requests, phone calls, and fights.

6 pm- Ryan comes home. Cue the confetti. He either takes the kids and lets me fix dinner or I continue keeping the peace while he makes dinner. Usually the latter.

6:30 pm- Dinner. Same as breakfast and lunch, minus the coffee. Feed dog.

7 pm- Palmer goes to bed. Start to see the light. The end is near. I clean up the remains of dinner, start the dishwasher, take George out, clean up for 15 minutes (no more, no less). Grab our waters. Feed cat.

8 pm- FINALLY. Finally. I have some time to myself. If I'm feeling charitable, I fold laundry. I don't feel charitable often. I get into my PJs. I read some blogs. I check the weather. I pin some shit. I check instagram.

8:30 pm- Ryan emerges from Henry's room. FINALLY. We watch a show in bed. We don't talk. We just lie there.

9:30 pm- Oh, hey there. Catch up for a minute before digging into our books.

10:30 pm- Lights out, baby.

So why am I telling you about my day?

Because I've had more than a few comments lately about how *nice* it must be to be a stay at home mom. The comments are never overtly rude, just things like, "it must be so nice to be able to do what you want during the day!" Something along those lines. And when there's a need to go above and beyond on a project for a committee or preschool or church or whatever, I feel the pointed eyes go straight to me because I *Have All This Time On My Hands*. Please don't misinterpret my likes of  facebook/instagram photos as evidence of my ample time. Five minute pockets of time here and there while I'm in line or waiting at a traffic light do not mean I have time to knit a sweater or hand-make all my Christmas cards.

I'm not trying to start a debate about stay at home moms versus working moms or moms versus working women or whatever. My point is that everyone is busy. Everyone is trying the best she can. The single girl who lives across the street from me? She's busy. The checkout lady at Giant? She's busy too. I'll say it again, *everyone is busy*. Moms at home? No different.

That's my story. Blogging is something I really do enjoy, but I'm having a hard time fitting into my life because even while I've written this, I've let a lot of other things around me go that I probably should be doing instead. Henry is up and asking me for a snack. Palmer is now putting a screw from the broken baby gate into his mouth.

What are your thoughts on time? Or people's false perceptions of your life? I'm interested. I know it's not just me.

5 Effective Tips to Enjoying a Safe and Healthy Summer Vacation

Well, it's coming. No, I don't mean the inevitable feud between Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift. I mean Memorial Day weekend. If you're traveling with kids this weekend, you may remember my post on how not to lose your mind. Well, Kendra Thornton is here with some tips as well. If there's anyone who would know how to travel, it's her. She was the former Director of Communications for Orbitz and has been to 28 countries, so, yeah. She's legit. Be sure to follow her on twitter (@KendraThornton) and check her out at http://www.thorntonpr.com/ Thanks, Kendra!

5 Effective Tips to Enjoying a Safe and Healthy Summer Vacation

Every time I have gone on summer vacation with my family, I have ended up returning from the vacation learning a new lesson.  With each new lesson I have learned, I have been able to incorporate this new knowledge into future trips to make them go much more smoothly!  

It can be a big deal to make sure all the T’s are crossed and all the I’s are dotted when a family vacation rolls around.  Following a few tips can help children transition into healthy behaviors to make the trip more pleasant.  

1. Tip: Do a thorough check of the hotel you will be staying in. If you are getting a really low rate, it is okay to be suspicious.  Many low-rate hotels cater to college crowds that stay up late at night and party.  This can make it difficult for your family to get a good night’s rest before going to a theme park.  Walt Disney World resorts and Orlando hotels are well-known for offering peaceful rooms with security that enforces reasonable curfews.

2. Tip: Because it is important for children to get a good night sleep, be sure to pack along a child’s favorite sleeping stuffed animal or blanket.  These familiar surroundings may be the very thing that lures a child into a peaceful sleep during vacation time.

3. Tip: If you will be driving extensively, packing healthy snacks can keep your family filled with good nutrition.  This can reduce hunger cravings and also reduce sugar rushes that encourage hyper behavior – which can be very difficult in a car!  An article on Reader’s Digest suggests dried fruit, oatmeal cookies and fruit as healthy travel snacks.

4. Tip: Keep a close eye on children when you go to a theme park or water park.  Children can easily get separated from their parents in large crowds.  Go over rules with your kids and make sure they stay within eyesight of you.

5. Tip: Encourage your children to draw on sketchpads while they are relaxing in a hotel or when they are at an airport.  This is a great way to keep them occupied and stimulated to give you some refreshing downtime! I love having my children pack their own little canvas of toys for the car or a backpack of a few items they personally wanted to pack to keep them happy on the road or in the air!

Try not to overthink planning your vacation to the point where you no longer are having fun!  Taking time to prepare for the vacation in advance will help to relieve stress and give you confidence.

For Mom

I am going to post on my night at the Ritz... amazing. In honor of Mother's Day tomorrow, I thought I'd share with you a snippet from my mom's gift from her three kids.

Tomorrow, my mom will celebrate her 32nd Mother's Day, so my brothers and I wrote 32 memories we have or lessons we learned from Mom. We divided it up, so Joe and I each wrote 11 and Jesse wrote 10, and put our memories/lessons in envelopes and tied them up with a ribbon. I can't wait to see her reaction at brunch tomorrow.

If I am on the ball, I'll update this post with a picture of it, but if I'm busy with The Children, you'll just have to settle for one of my memories:

One memory that stands out for me is from my junior year of high school. We had gone to Ohio after Paw-Paw had passed away and I’d found a tanning lamp in the basement… Oh my God. I just perched in front of it, waiting to feel tan like you do when you are on the beach. Imagine my surprise when I burnt the shit out of myself. My face was PURPLE for days. What was perhaps worse was when it came time to go back to school, my face was peeling. Peeling like a snake’s skin. Peeling like I had leprosy. Peeling like I had frosted flakes coming off my face. I went to school, not with a bad hair day, but with a bad face day. I snuck into chorus, my first class of the day, and I felt like everyone was looking at me. I felt sooo ugly and I didn’t want anyone to see me. I hid in the bathroom during break and called you from the pay phone at the front of the school to come and get me.

Some parents may have wanted to teach their kids a lesson about vanity. Some may have said they were too busy. You dropped what you were doing and came and got me.  I cried in the car all the way home. When we got back, I busied myself with exfoliating the shit out of my face. My skin was pink and raw and my eyes were puffy and burning from crying and you let me go take a nap.

What stood out to me was that A) facial tanning lamps are the devil B) you will always be there and scoop me up when I need you. Even though I was a brat in high school. And college. And off and on, well, all the time.

I Can't Stop Smiling

I know I've been MIA for a while, but for good reason. There comes a time in my house when the homeostasis has been so thrown off I must attend to matters at hand. Very serious business. Think BioDome. 

Homeostasis = Biodome, get it? Sigh.

Yes, there comes a time when I must attend to the laundry. And clear out the fridge. And bathe the children once a month. If not, Ryan begins to talk nonsense about firing me. Whatever that means. 

Anyways, I am taking time out from the very important task of sorting socks to tell you that I can't stop smiling. Let me rewind. Once upon a time, I said that all I wanted for my birthday was a full night of sleep. (For the record, it's been over a year and a half since I've had a night of sleep thanks to pregnancy and Palmer). Palmer is STILL waking up 4+ times a night, so I am borderline psychotic. My apologies to everyone who knows me. 

A few weeks ago I officially turned 30 something. When asked what I wanted for my birthday, I jokingly said a full night of sleep. Well, Ryan and my parents got together and decided to be awesome. I mean, CRAZY awesome. They booked me a night at the Ritz and a spa package. Ummm... not kidding. I just got off the phone booking my massage, facial, and manicure. AHHHH!!! Here are a few pics of what I'm going to experience this weekend:

Hey, Chair. Watch out.
You're about to get served.
I'm going to read on you so hard you won't know what hit you.

If it were my house, I'd think that were poop right there.
But since it's the Ritz, I know I'm going to have stones on me. Not poop.

And you know I'm drinking champagne during my bath.

Damn straight, I'm jumping on the bed in a Ritz-Carlton robe.

Because I am a planner, I have already mapped out some to-dos before I go. One important task is to go to Total Wine and find an awesome bottle of champagne. I will also pack some comfy socks, pajama pants, three half-read books I've been meaning to get finish, and Working Girl because it's my favorite movie.

I've even created a to-do list for when I get there:

It's a tough list. Not sure I'll be able to get it all done.

It's a good thing I booked a facial because these smile lines are deep. 

It's a Good Thing They Are Cute

It makes cleaning up graham crackers almost fun.

Henry Still Plays Soccer

... like a quadriplegic.

Bending it like Bekham.

Stirring the Pot

WHAT?

Can't a kid take a poop, unravel an entire roll of toilet paper, stir it with a toilet brush, and occasionally fling the toilet paper across the bathroom in peace? Sheesh... 

Helpers

This has been all over Facebook and Pinterest, but it still gives me a little comfort every time I read it. I hope this brings you comfort today too.

I Can Explain

When I have to buy a card for an event, I get really nervous. If I go to Giant, Henry wants a toy/cookie/cupcake/fly swatter (it happened). If I go to Hallmark, I have to keep him from the breakable stuff and candy.

This particular time, I made the unfortunate decision to go to Hallmark. Since the aisles are about this big, I let Henry out of the stroller and in true Henry fashion, he was everywhere. I played a game called, I Don't Know Whose Kid That Is, But MAN Where Is His Mother?!? and GRAB EVERY CARD YOU CAN FOR ANY POSSIBLE EVENT--DON'T READ, JUST GRAB. Apparently that's the game Henry was playing too because when I came around, he had knocked over a display of wine toppers and had 29,374 cards in his hand. 

At this point, Palmer was screaming because I was lurching around trying to grab Henry and said cards.  

It is A Scene. The grandmas behind the counter are clucking at my parenting skills. The moms in the store are murmuring helpful comments to me like, "It doesn't get any better." Somehow, in the mix, I make it up to the counter with the cards Henry has snatched up and the ones that I have *carefully* chosen only to be greeted by the candy. It's not even cheap candy, it's the expensive imported stuff. Mothershitofass. 

I sort through the cards as quickly as I can, pay, and dash out before both The Children become any more apoplectic. 

And then I get home. It's like a poker game when another player lays down his cards (just go along with that analogy because I actually know nothing about poker). There is surprise, shock, and awe. There are a few cards you suspected but a few game changers. 

Enter this guy:

The horrible news is that apparently this card is not even a 15th birthday card. It's just a plain old birthday card. Apparently cumpleanos is not the same thing as quinceanera, but Henry grabbed a Spanish birthday card instead of a German birthday card (the only other language I am able to decipher) .

UPDATE: Did you know that Hallmark has translations on the back of all cards in foreign languages?

...

And this is why I am buying a box of blank cards with kittens on them the next time I muster the courage to go back to Hallmark. 

Henry Plays Soccer

... like a blind, deaf mute.

Let me rewind.

Back in February, I thought it would be a good idea to sign Henry up for an activity to get him out of the house, but more importantly, to wear him out. So I signed him up for British Soccer. I really have no idea what British soccer is. Still don't. Is it different than American soccer? Shouldn't it be called fussball or something? The description just mentioned drills and games to help with soccer skills. Cool.

Imagine my surprise when I show up and there are two uniformed soccer coaches ready to get the kids moving. And I couldn't understand them because they are, legit, British. In fact, I missed them call Henry's name because I didn't know who "En-Er-EE" was. Three syllables, just so we are clear on pronunciation here.

I knew I was in trouble when Coach Nick asked all the parents to stay with their player. 'Why?' I thought. Oh, because trying to keep 2 year olds together is like trying to herd cats. So along with trying to keep En-Er-EE on The Pitch, I needed to get him to play the red light green light game while dribbling a soccer ball.

Did I mention I am carrying a 22 pound baby on my hip? His name is Palmer and he is a moose.

While I have no doubts as to Coach Nick's soccer playing abilities, his ability to herd 2 year olds is lacking. Kids and soccer balls were everywhere. There was no red light. Only green light with this game. Occasionally, Coach Nick would try to corral everyone and regroup to no avail. En-Er-EE was definitely part of the problem, completely deaf to me yelling at him to sitdown/staystill/putyourfootontheball/stopstealingsoccerballs.

Halfway through the class he was either sleepy or just tired of hearing me shouting instructions at him because he curled up into the fetal position and refused to move or talk. I realized I was starting to sound like one of those moms on "Toddlers and Tiaras," so I made up an excuse and got the hell out of there.

I'm not saying En-Er-EE's never going to be good at soccer; I am saying that right now he is a normal 2 year old and the cost-benefit analysis is out of whack. Why the hell would he stand still with a soccer ball when he can throw it across The Pitch? Which is why I'm putting M&Ms in my pocket next week.

Here's hoping!

Henry "Attack" Johnson*

*No, that's not our last name. Creeper.

Fitness Challenge!

I mentioned last week that I was making some changes in order not to have another meltdown like I did on Tuesday. One of the changes I really need to make in my life is being healthier. Sleep is a major issue, but there's not a whole lot I can control with that right now. What I can control is taking care of myself.

I met with my friend, Katy, who has three children and is one of my real-life mentor moms. She is smart, funny, and a really good mother. She is also a size 4 so let's try not to hate her. Katy has agreed to write a few guest posts on here, so keep an eye out for those. My favorite is the IKEA story. (Do you see how I did that, Katy? Now you have to send me something).

Anyways, even though she is tiny and I wanted to hit her initially when she told me, she wants to be healthier and more toned. I get that.  She's doing a fitness challenge, and I've joined too. The idea is to have three SMART fitness goals. They need to be Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, and Time-specific. For me, these are great baby steps to inch closer to my goal of having more energy, alleviating my esophagitis symptoms, and fitting into my pre-pregnancy clothes.

Each week you pick three goals: one diet goal, one exercise goal, and one personal goal (which can be an extra diet/exercise goal or just a goal to help you achieve your existing diet and exercise goals). The idea is to find a goal that's a little out of your comfort zone that just makes you be more mindful. It's not to completely alter your life all at once. I've tried that, and I've got too much going on to worry about how many carbs are in a peach.

My goals for this week are:

Diet Goal- Eat one fruit and/or vegetable at every meal.
Exercise Goal- Go to step class on Thursday.
Personal Goal- Only one caffeinated beverage a day.

My problem in the past has been that I jump into a diet or exercise program, but I can't keep with it because it's so much all at once. For example, I could never do P90X because there is no way I could ever work out every day, let alone work out for an entire hour alone in my house. It's too much and I would be setting myself up for failure (this is why your goal should be Attainable).

Each week you add to your goals, but you don't forget about the goals you've already made. For example, next week I might make the goal to drink 36 ounces of water a day. I still have to eat a fruit or vegetable at every meal.

Wish us luck, and if you want to join the challenge, let me know so that we can link up!

Don't my nails look great in this picture? ;)

Shits and Giggles

Last night our friends, Hollis and Ricky, came over for dinner. They come over on a pretty regular basis since they live so close and we all have a mutual dependency on Ryan’s cooking. While he was grilling out back with Ricky, I let Henry loose on the deck since he loves to be outside at any given chance even if it means running away. I told Ryan not to let him run in the yard since neither of us has cleaned up after George since before Palmer was born. 

While Ryan and Ricky were grilling, Hollis was contributing the side dishes and I was contributing empty beer bottles. As 7:30 approached, I knew it was time to start getting Henry to bed. I went out back and said, “Henry! Are you ready for bed?” and he replied, “Yes, Mommy! I’m beat! Let’s go now!” Psych. He ran into the corner of our yard and screamed, “NOOOOO!” So I said, “Ok, five more minutes!”

It was then I noticed the string of grass trailing from his shoes and remembered that our backyard is a minefield. And it’s tiny. So your chances of stepping in dog shit are… hold on… I’m not very good at math… 100%. Henry had undoubtedly stepped in crap and I was the brainiac who put Crocs on him. I asked Ryan if he'd picked up any of the poop out back and he said, "Umm, some of it." Which meant none of it.

After the requisite warning period was up, I went out to ask Henry to come inside. Knowing that he wouldn’t go softly into the dark night, I poised myself for a face off. I would have to go into the minefield and catch him, like he was some kind of greased pig or something. 

After some maneuvering, I caught the little sucker and carried him whilst he was kicking and screaming, flinging shit off his Crocs along the way. Once I pried his shoes off, I saw in horror as he had shit caked in underneath his toenails.

I screamed and picked Henry up and Hollis hurried to help me scrub his feet in the sink. As Hollis scraped poop from underneath Henry’s toenails—

This is why we are friends

--We both noticed that the smell of dog shit was not going away. I started screaming again because I realized he’d sat in a pile of poop and it was now on my arm. Ryan and Ricky came in to see what was going on, and Ryan, ever the helpful one, was quick to shout out helpful directions like, “Dry his feet off!” Because that’s what I’m worried about when I have dog shit up my arm.

I yanked Henry out of the sink, undid his belt and pulled his pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. And that’s when I saw it. Poop Soup. There was at least a half pound of runny poop in his underwear. It was a cauldron of frothy feces. It was not only in his underwear but had seeped up and over into his jeans.

At this point everyone is screaming and I am covered in George and Henry’s shit. I started screaming, “Oh my GOD! What do I do?!?” Because what do you do? Really, what do you do? I grabbed the poop soup underwear with one hand and with a pinky on the other hand grabbed a plastic bag and threw them to Ricky. Meanwhile, Ryan and Hollis have sprung into action and are hosing Henry’s butt down with the sink faucet. I resisted the urge to ask them to close the blinds to the window over the sink because, well, there was shit everywhere and George was circling like a shark waiting for its next meal.  

It took us about an hour to all get cleaned up, get Henry to bed, and finally sit down to eat. Dinner was delicious, albeit a bit cold and overcooked, but nothing a few beers didn't take care of. 


So how am I enjoying this beautiful spring weather today? Picking up poop out back. Ain't that some shit.*

*Oh, c'mon! I had to throw at least one poop joke in here!

Recovery

Thank you to all those women who reached out to me yesterday. You guys really Josh Groban'd me. After I wrote that post, a few things happened:

• I cried. Not an ugly, wailing cry. Just a towel-to-the-eyes-while-you-moan cry. 
• I took a quick shower and used the good soap. 
• The boys were adorable:

• I got emails from friends that were really sweet and helpful.
• The casserole I pulled out of the freezer that morning turned out to be a lifesaver.
• I caught up with a friend on the way to class. Love you, Ninny!
• Class was awesome. No, seriously. Plus we got out early, which never happens.
• Caught up with another friend on the way home. Love you, Jen!
• Palmer only woke up twice. Once at 1 a.m. and once at 3 a.m. He decided to let me sleep in until 6:30.

I've got some changes to make. Like getting my ass to bed right now, for one, but I appreciate all your encouragement. Thanks for rollin' with a sister. 

Today Is a Rough Day

• I was up late last night finishing up grad school homework, so I didn't get to go to the book signing. It wasn't so much because of poor planning as it was that I misread the assigned readings and had to catch up. C's = F's in grad school and I can't fail this class or I'm out of grad school.
• When I finally did get to bed, I had a terrible night of sleep. Palmer woke up four times and decided that 5:30 a.m. was the best time to start the day. 
• I had to completely tear apart our room in an attempt to trap Gus, our cat, in order to make it to his vet appointment on time. 
• I took a toddler, an infant, and a yowling cat to the vet. Alone.
• I took a toddler and an infant to the grocery store. The energy it took to talk Henry down from having to have one of the Hot Wheels toys the had at the end of the aisle... and the left over Easter candy... and a random crab toy... I caved when it came to the Ranch Doritos. So my child has eaten a cake pop from Starbucks and a bag of Ranch Doritos today. Meanwhile...
• I have eaten next to nothing because of my esophagitis, which I have from the massive amounts of caffeine I drink between 5:30 a.m. and noon. I get indigestion every time I eat. The only thing that doesn't hurt to eat are carbs. So good for you, I hear.
• I am so tired.
• I haven't been on a date with my husband since September. I don't think I've had a *real* conversation with him since Saturday.
• I haven't seen or heard from some of my good friends in months. I feel terrible about it.
• My house is a wreck despite spending all my spare time folding, doing dishes, picking up toys...
• I can't believe I have to go to class tonight until 10 p.m. I was so tired last week that I drove home with the lights off. I live thirty minutes from campus.
• My sister-in-law posted a family picture from Easter. She has a three week old and looks AMAZING! Then there's me. I look like Buzz's pale-ass girlfriend. I can't even write about it.
• I am overwhelmed. 
• I spent 20 minutes scouring the house for "Blue Car" because Henry wouldn't go to sleep without it. Do you know how many blue cars Henry has? 2345. Do you know where toddlers like to put cars? Everywhere. Including down the toilet. Thankfully, the blue car he wanted was only in his car seat.
• I hate that no one told me how hard it was going to be to stay at home with two kids. I hate that even if they had told me, I wouldn't have understood.
• I haven't showered today and I now have to finish typing because it's the only chance I'm going to have to get clean before class tonight. 

Carry On, Warrior!

Six months ago, right after our sons were born, my friend, Hollis, introduced me to her childhood friend's blog, momastery (pronounced like monastery). It was the perfect blend of humor, mothering, compassion, and Jesus. I loved her perspective and became a Monkee. I love everything about Glennon and I have adopted her as a distant mentor mom. (I learned about mentor moms from my other distant mentor mom, Rachel Campos-Duffy. I highly recommend her book for all you SAHMs out there).

Now I never watch TV in the morning because mornings are so crazy up in this piece, but this morning, Glennon was on to promote her book! I had to endure watching Chris Brown, but it was worth it because she was so awesome! Check her out here.

Her book comes out tomorrow and she's going to be at the Books-A-Million in McLean tomorrow! How freaking awesome is that? Stayed tuned for some pics!

My Kid Is a Potty-Training Genius

Yesterday morning, I was trying not to cry because it was morning and I had yet another hor.ib.le. night of sleep when Henry came running into the room and said "Potty?" His diaper from the night before was dry and he peed on the potty like a champ. Highlight of my day until...

After his nap, he dragged his potty in front of the TV and said "Potty!" I pulled his underwear and pants off, but then the phone rang, so I went to answer it.  When I came back into the room, he was sitting, watching TV and peeing. Of course, he didn't aim right and there was an ENORMOUS puddle of fresh pee around him (thank God for the hardwood), but I'm still declaring this a win. Especially because he did all this while eating a chicken nugget. I feel like it goes without saying that I am so proud of him.

Henry's birthday present?

That Time Henry Ran Away

In case you've never heard of the term the Arsenic Hour, let me explain it to you. It's the time of day when moms (or dads!) are trying to get dinner on and the kids are on their worst behavior. It's a recipe for disaster, which is why I never go into Arsenic Hour without an adult beverage, especially because Arsenic Hour is not an hour in my house. It starts at 4 p.m. and ends when the boys are in bed. 

Yesterday, was like any other Arsenic Hour. The TV was on. Henry and George were on the lookout for Daddy to come home and both went ape shit when he did walk in the door. (Let the record show that I receive no such fanfare when I return home). I was feeding Palmer. Music was playing. Dinner was cooking. But the balance between order and chaos is always precarious in my house as evidenced by my tale. 

Enter Hollis.

Hollis dropped by to pick up a few things, so we were talking in the kitchen. It's important to note that when Hollis and I talk, it can take hours to have a single conversation. Mostly because we should both probably be on some kind of attention deficit drug, but also because we both have kids and it's impossible to have a conversation uninterrupted. The ADD just makes it more fun because it can take us weeks to finish a single story. We were right in the middle of our third unfinished story when Ryan came downstairs and asked, "Where's Henry?"

I immediately called for George because the two are inseparable. Henry likes to think it's because they are best friends, but it's actually because he's like freaking Hansel and leaves a trail of crumbs, and now feces, wherever he goes. 

When Henry didn't answer and George didn't appear, Ryan immediately flew into Nervous Nelly mode and ran out the door. I, always the calm one, went upstairs to check and see if he was playing hide and seek, but Hollis shouted, "Oh, he's definitely outside!"

I ran out the door and, sure enough, our neighbor Amanda had George and Henry. Apparently, when Amanda was walking her dog, Doc, George burst out the storm door to play and Henry followed. 

What's great about this is that Ryan's reaction was, "Oh! Henry! You had us so worried!" and kissed his forehead. All the while, Henry was smiling at me guiltily. 

So if you ask Ryan what happened, he'll tell you that George burst out the door and Henry followed to stop him. If you ask me, I will tell you the truth. Henry saw George break out and followed suit, probably screaming, "Hey! Wait up, Dude!"

Wait up, Man!

Potty-Training Week

Number of successful potty trips to date: 4

Number of accidents: 3

(*Those of you without kids are going to *love* these posts).

I'm starting my post out old school style! Anyways, as I mentioned, we are potty-training this week. I started yesterday, and it's going okay so far, but it's also not our first attempt at potty-training.

Here's what I tried in the past:

• Reading 4 different books to compare methods and prepare
• Picking out underwear together
• M&Ms after every pee, cars after every poo
• Huge celebrations after making it in the potty
• Casually asking, "do you need to go to the potty?"
• Read every potty book I could find to him
• Watched every potty movie I could find to him (a new form of torture for myself, I have found)
• Trying to incorporate going potty into bed time routine and building from there
• Following him around and asking him to use the bathroom every 2 seconds
• Begging

For this endeavor, I've done nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm actually doing what my pediatrician said to do which is, explain to him we are going to the potty now and no more diapers. I put underwear on him and that's been that. I have asked him a few times if it's been a while since he's gone, but he screams, "NO!" like he's gone all teenager on me and is embarrassed I would even ask such a thing.

I am not getting upset or frustrated. I'm not stressing out. He had one accident yesterday and I acted like it was no big deal. I put him on the potty and let him pick out which new underwear he wanted to wear. No freakouts, no celebrations, no rewards. Just moved on. (I definitely put a diaper on him at night because I needed him to wake me up to change the sheets like I need to set my hair on fire).

I was a little discouraged at nap time yesterday and asked him if he wanted to wear a diaper or Big Boy Pants and he chose the BBPs. He didn't wet the bed, so we will see how today's nap goes. 

Riveting stuff, I know. Stay tuned eager readers for more updates on my son's bowel movements! Just kidding. I am not going to give you a play by play on this. The next time I post about potty-training, it will to declare victory!

Bringing the toilet in front of the TV. Well, if Mohammed won't come to the mountain...

If You Were to Judge Us By Our Trash...

You'd think we were alcoholic ballers. 

And you'd be half right.*



*Actually, we are just forgetful. Oh, and lazy.

As If I Needed Another Reason to Start Potty-Training

Tonight Ryan was changing Henry's diaper while I was furiously typing away trying to get my grad school paper finished. I, wisely, decided to play the game I used to play as a little girl called "If You Don't Talk, They Won't Know You are Listening." This is what I heard:

"No, Henry! Don't touch it!"

"Oh, GOD! Now it's on your hands!"

"Dammit! We're out of wipes" (Hmmm... wonder how that happened).

"OH MY GOD! NO! DON'T RUB YOUR EYES! HENRY, STOP!"

It goes without saying that I'm pretty sure we are going to have a massive case of pink eye at my house any day now. It's a waiting game.

In case you are wondering, "Hey, Jacque! Have you ever had pink eye before?" The answer is, yes. The last time I got pink eye, I was on Spring Break in college in the Bahamas and my friend, Katie, had to walk me around at night because I couldn't wear my contacts. Totally safe to be blind. When you're drunk. In a foreign country. In a massive crowd of people.

So without further ado, let the potty training countdown begin! Six days!

This Is Why I Have a Dog

This morning as I was doing laundry (still), Henry came running through the room leaving a stink trail in his wake.

Before I continue this tale, let me explain that Henry is still not potty-trained. It's becoming a thorn in my side, especially since I keep getting coupons for Pull-Ups in all the diaper packages I buy. I also get them spit out at me when I check out at the supermarket as if I need more reminders that Henry needs to be potty-trained. Fuck off, Huggies. Don't you think I want my child potty trained? Assholes.

Anyways, I grabbed Henry and he wanted to go "poopy in the potty". And I'm all, "Sure, boss, but you're a little late there". I peel off his poopy diaper, put him on his potty, and shut the door because the kid likes his privacy in the bathroom, and who could blame him? I haven't gone to the bathroom alone since 2010. I give him a few minutes to do his thing while I toss his dirty diaper outside in the trash and when I open the bathroom door it's like... I don't even know how to explain this... like a poop bomb went off. Like Hiroshima. 

Henry is scooting across the floor like a dog with worms and there is a puddle of pee on the floor and an imprint of a butt on the wall made out of poop. There is poop smeared on the toilet and on the vanity and even on the air vent, like he wanted to air out his butt or something. I can't scream, but I obviously want to. It's a terrifying mess. Incidentally, the potty made it out unscathed.

Instead I smiled and with a trembling voice and through gritted teeth I said, "Wow! You are such a big boy! You went poopy and peepee in the potty!" Even though I want to scream, "HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK?!? JESUS CHRIST! OH MY GOD!" 

I take him and wipe him down with 23,455 wipes. In case you're wondering why I didn't just put him in the bathtub, you should know that putting him in the bathtub would just be more of a mess and a fight since he hates getting out of the tub. Plus, he'd wake up the baby which I needed at that moment like I need a litter of kittens.

So after I send him off on his merry way, I go to wash my hands and grab the Lysol wipes when I see George. Licking his chops. I walk to the bathroom and what do you know? Aside from the lingering smell of fresh shit, and a little puddle, there is no trace of poop anywhere. 

And this is why I have a dog.

George knows how to earn his keep.

A Conversation with My Husband This Morning

Ryan: What do you want to get done today?

Me: Ugh. Well, I need to finish my paper, but we really need to do laundry. It's at a critical level.

Ryan: Oh my GOD! YES! WTF?!? (Gasp)

Me: (blank stare)

Me: (blink)

Me: (blank stare)

Me: Go on.

Ryan: No, I'm good.

In unrelated news, it's St. Patrick's Day. If you don't have kids, go drink your face off. If you have kids but got a babysitter, go drink your face off. If you have kids and don't have a babysitter, well, come over and do laundry with me.

Palmer says, Happy St. Patrick's Day! Now fold my clothes!

What's Working

I'm no Dr. Phil fanatic, but I really love when he asks, "How's that working for you?" Sometimes it just takes asking that question to find value or fault in something that you just deal with absentmindedly. So, Dr. Phil, here's what's working:


My hair
I have had long hair for about ten years, but last month I got sick of looking at my bedraggled mop. There was just too much maintenance and not enough time, so I decided to trade in my long hair for something sleek and pulled together. A part of me worries that this is a mom cliche haircut, but my mantra lately has been "it doesn't have to work forever; it just has to work right now". This haircut takes me 15 minutes to blow dry and looks the same every time. It's a win in my book, and if I change my mind, hey, hair grows!

Now you know who to stalk.

Yoga Pants
Obvi. This is basically my uniform. I put on yoga pants, a cardigan and some ballet flats and BOOM, I'm ready. The trick is finding the perfect pants, which I have just about mastered for myself. And no, they have never been to yoga class. Who has time for that? Keep reading.

And I look exactly like this in my yoga pants.

BB Cream
I'm not one for makeup crazes. The ombre nail polish thing sets off my OCD. BB Cream happened because I ran out of moisturizer and thought it would be a great way to keep my adorable metrosexual husband away from my product. I have had more compliments on my skin in the past two months than I have since... well, I can remember. It's like a tinted moisturizer put on with an airbrush machine. It's working. Mommy rikey. Daddy no rikey.

This is the one I use. No, I am not getting paid for this endorsement, but I should.

Now for what's not working.

Sleep
Oh. My. Umm... I want to go back in time to when I was in college complaining about being tired and punch that girl in the face. And then I want to make that girl go punch another girl in the face. I was not tired. You see, Palmer, aka Puff, aka P Diddy, likes to check in with me anywhere from 3-7 times a night. Sometimes, just for shits and giggles, Henry will also wake up and as soon as I open his door, he goes back to sleep. Occasionally George, the dog, and Gus, the cat will chime in. I feel like it goes without saying that when Ryan snores, I hit him. With my pillow. Filled with bricks.

I heard somewhere that prison guards have made prisoners stay up as a form of torture. I understand. This is an effective form of torture. It makes me tired. Duh. But lack of sleep also makes me indecisive, crabby, unmotivated, and depressed, which all make me feel like a bad mom, a bad wife, and a bad friend. My birthday is next month and I'm not interested in presents. I'm interested in a hotel room to myself.

Time
Once upon a time, a 24 year old me told a friend she was planning on starting her novel when she became a mom because she would have more time on her hands. Fire up the flux capacitor on the DeLorean, boys! I'm going to go beat the shit out of myself!

"WTF, McFly. I told you to bring the Cheetos!"

I somehow got bamboozled into going back to grad school. Something about finishing my degree by this fall in order to save 24 credits and $12,000 I'd already invested in my education... Don't get me wrong, I love grad school. It's like a four hour vacation every week, but on top of my job as a full time caretaker, chef, maid, financial planner, event coordinator, professional organizer, and errand runner, it is stressing me out a *little* bit.

So there you have it. What's working or not working for you? Feel free to use my post idea and link me up to your blog. Or however that works.

Cheers!

Henry's Big Boy Room- UPDATE

I know it's been like... Eight months since I posted about Henry's Big Boy Room, but I still can't say it's finished. I know, I know. Get it together. It's basically done, so I'll show you what it looks like right now:

His bed looks ridiculous at the moment because his blue madras duvet is in the wash and we failed yesterday at putting his bed on a bed frame. Rather, the bed frame failed us. Totally broken. The pillows are put up as a barrier so he doesn't slam into the wall.

I took all his books from the nursery and put them on this IKEA Expedit shelf for now. Eventually I'd like to make that little corner a reading nook like this:

Those little babies are also from IKEA! The idea is to put them on the wall to the left of the window, above his rocking chair:

So it's an organized mess at this point, but as soon as I put those spice racks up, I'll post the finished picture. I'd also like to put that measuring chart up, come to think of it... damn.

Sexxxy Hard Wood

Forgive me if this entry is laden with typos. I had the pleasure of waking up seven times last night for The Baby. This is a new record.

Anyways, since I've lost the will to even try at anything productive today, I've decided to do unproductive things like pin 2384+ things on Pinterest, Like everything on Facebook, and watch Wall-E for the first time this hour. Oh, and update my blog, of course. Duh.

So there it is. We have some work to do choosing out rugs, but I've got the home improvement fever. Watch out!