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!