*BAD Weekend*

Sigh. I don't even know where to start...I guess the beginning!!

I am not yet to the point that enough time has gone by that I can make this humorous. I usually try to see the funny side to keep my sanity and keep things in perspective, but I honestly can't do that right now.

On Saturday I was putting dinner in the oven at 3 pm (it was pork roast so it had to go in early). I was on the phone with my best friend, and after this...incident...happened I checked my phone and it was seriously less than 5 minutes. Okay after I put dinner in there were a few dishes that needed to go in the dishwasher so I did that. I realized that I could hear faded shrieks of pleasure from the kids and I immediately knew something was terribly, horribly wrong. So phone still at my ear I went to investigate. We have a large family room that we are in the process of turning into Patrick's room so the new baby can have the nursery. There are french doors that close it off from the living room where we spend our time. The doors were closed and I opened them to find Sarah throwing fistfuls of paint onto Patrick's head. I panicked for a moment-frozen in a state of "What should my next move be?" shock.

Let me explain-this was not a little bit of Crayola finger paint. No, no...it was a can of wall paint-the kind that is virtually IMPOSSIBLE to remove from carpet. The kind that is permanent, forever. We bought 3 cans (it's a BIG room) and had them sitting on the desk. The room is empty except the desk and a recliner. The kids climbed on the desk and pushed the can of paint onto the floor. Sarah told me she then jumped on it (from the desk), but my hubby believes-and who am I to correct him?-that it busted open when it hit the floor. So within 3-4 minutes a can of paint is covering the center of the room, splatter marks are all the way to each wall-to the door, on the recliner. The kids had it in their hair, ears, up their noses, under finger & toenails...everywhere. These pictures do NOT do the mess justice. The camera didn't pick up the splatters and the sheer fact that it's the ENTIRE can of paint!! When I took the photos I was thinking, "If I ever get this cleaned up at all I will have proof that it was much worse and Rick won't kill me". I even had to use Magic Eraser on the tub to get all the residue out.




















My first move was throw the kids in the tub cause obviously the paint would have just gotten on even more parts of the house with them running around like that. So I had no choice but leave the paint soaking in the carpet while I cleaned up those children. I am not sure if I was doing something wrong, but I scrubbed those kids until they cried that I was hurting them and they still had paint on their scalps and hair. After they were (for the most part) clean I put them on the couch in front of the TV and Googled how to get a can of paint out of carpet. The results did NOT look good for me. Not one website said it would come completely out, but a few promised it would not be too noticeable. I will spare you all the details, but after more than 2 1/2 hours of cleaning (I called my best guy friend, who is also my neighbor, and he brought a second shop vac and was in there helping me) the only difference was that we salvaged some of the paint.


My kids have made a lot of messes, but nothing has come close to this. The damages add up to about $2,000. not to mention the can of paint cost about $50.


THEN...On Sunday I was cleaning Sarah's room. I was in there for a while, but not that long. I came out and saw this:















Don't be alarmed: No one was shot. I was looking for the phone to call 911 until Sarah handed me the (EMPTY) Hershey's strawberry syrup container. Patrick had gotten into the refrigerator and dumped out the bottle. THANK YOU GOD, most of it was on tile, but there was a bit on the carpet. Have I mentioned yet that we had the floors professionally steam cleaned on Wednesday?? There's another hundred bucks wasted.



FINALLY today (Monday) Patrick woke up from a very, very restless night at 5:40. At 5:50 I was yelling for Rick and we were frantically pulling warm clothes on and getting Sarah dressed. Off to the ER!! My little guy was watching TV so intently he fell off the side of the couch onto the brick fireplace. His head split open and blood was everywhere, carpet not excluded. (Rick is still refusing to tile the entire house...) I was soooo upset-we arrived at the ER at Lake Shore (I absolutely HATE that hospital, which is why I travel an hour to Gainesville to have my babies) around 6:15. At 7:45, my son's head still open and bleeding, Rick grabbed us all up and we walked out. We went to the other facility across town and an hour and 10 minutes later my baby boy had 6 stitches in his forehead. They made me leave so Sarah wouldn't be terrified. It took 30 minutes to sew him up and they had him strapped to a hard board with velcro. I was crying right along with him. The doctor said to expect him to literally pass out afterwards from the trauma, and he did. I held him in my arms on the way home and he slept for an hour and a half in my bed. If you know my Patrick--this NEVER happens. So my lil man had his fist major accident. :( The doctor said, "It's a boy thing-you'll be here again"...Like that's supposed to make me feel better!? The stitches look much, much better than the wound did-it was sooo deep. Umm, I won't describe it I guess, but take my word for it-it was nasty. He has to go back after Thanksgiving to have them out, and he's being referred to a plastic surgeon cause there's no way it will heal up nicely. Anyway here's my baby Frankenstein:

I just don't understand what I am doing wrong? I know kids get into trouble and mess things up...But c'mon-from reading this I must sound like a complete degenerate, unfit mother! I PROMISE I wake up in the morning, every morning, planning that today will be different...and it never is! I spend time with them, we play, we go to the park, we have playdates and lots of friends. What is going on here!? I could understand if I left them alone so I could get my nails done, or if I was doing drugs or something, but NO-I make dinner and clean the house.....Grrrr. Sorry for the rant-I'm tired.



Tomorrow will be different! Right?

~Bathroom Fun~

I am not sure why, but the bathroom seems to be the single most attractive room in the house to my kiddos. It has progressed from just wanting to be at my feet while I was in there to locking themselves in that room for fun. Almost everyday I find myself banging on the door issuing ultimatums to get them out. Normally I would be thankful for the few minutes of peace, but here are a couple of reasons why it's just not worth it anymore:
The bath foam somehow exploded and it was shooting from the top of the canister all over everything. I have tried to do this myself to see exactly what went wrong, and I could not get the same results. Leave it to Sarah & Patrick to figure it out. If only they could use their evil genius to do good?

Another prime example of why the bathroom is off limits:

I admit this was mostly my fault; I selfishly walked outside to switch over the laundry and stayed out there for extra minutes just to be alone. When I came back inside I noticed it was too quiet, but it took me longer than normal to investigate. My favorite part of this clean-up was the toothpaste crammed in the grout on the floor. I'm not sure how it got there since he was on the counter, but it did.

My suggestion for getting a toothpaste/lotion combo out of your grout is soak it with water and use an old toothbrush to lift it out. Trust me: any paper product will not work!! You'll be amazed how clean the floor looks after scrubbing it-I was tempted to go ahead and do the rest of the floor, but I decided against it so we now have a section that is noticeably clean and new-looking.

Also, PatPat smelled minty-fresh for hours and hours after this incident so all was not lost. :)

After being a mom of 2 for over 2 whole years now I finally figured out how to go to the bathroom without having the kids tear up everything while I helplessly sit there. My bottom drawer is filled with "forbidden" items that I really don't care if they play with at all (empty travel-sized shampoos, Q-tips, etc). They get to think they're getting away with something, and I get to well, you know.

Baby

Okay I have had MANY MANY occasions that I think, "Hey don't get upset-blog about it!!", but I have been neglecting my poor blog. I also realized that I have barely mentioned my new little one coming, which is so funny because with the first 2 I thought about the fact that I was pregnant all the time...now it's just, I don't know, something that I've gotten used to I guess.
So I am going to give my belly buddy some attention: this post is all about baby!!

I am nearly halfway through and most mommies would be very excited, but to be quite honest I am very nervous. I don't know what I was thinking-I can barely handle Sarah & Patrick, now I am going to be outnumbered! I could stay pregnant for 2 years and be just fine-I giggle a little on the inside when I hear a first (or even a second now that I'm an old pro ::wink::) time mom complain about the discomforts of pregnancy....Just wait until the baby is here, HAHAHAHA. That's when the real work begins, especially when they are not too far apart in age. When I have this one Sarah will be 4 1/2 that month, Patrick will be almost 2 1/2...3 under 5. I'm tired just thinking of it.



But I digress-now for the fun stuff:


This critter is so cute-he has a cycle of being awake and asleep already, and he's very predictable:wakes up around 4 or 5 am, then again around 9 am. Mostly quiet with some bursts of playing during the day, and a long stretch of being awake from about 8-9:30 pm. I love it!! Yes, I have been referring to bean as "he": at my first appointment with the midwife she couldn't find the heartbeat so she sent me for an ultrasound to make sure everything was okay, plus we needed to check the dates. So here's baby's first photo at 12 wks (remember 12 wks means 10 wks gestation):













***This is not what my blog is about, but I just feel compelled to ask how can some people feel it's okay to slaughter such a beautiful, innocent creation of God? He is not a ball of cells-he's a fully developed human child. A little boy! Makes me sick to my stomach to think about it. :( ***

I suffered horrible morning sickness, but I am sooo happy to report that it is almost completely gone! WOOHOO!! Other than that everything has been just peachy...can't poop, headaches, heartburn, moodswings. In return I get slobbery kisses on my belly from the big sister and brother and a free pass to eat all the seconds I want and huge boobs.

I have another ultrasound scheduled a week from Thursday. I will have more photos then!

What Happens When Moms Get Sick...

I have a horrible sinus infection and unrelenting morning sickness. I'm no wimp-I can handle one *OR* the other, but I feel (am I right?) that having to deal with both is just plain cruel!! At my midwife appointment last week I was shocked to see that I've lost 6 pounds...I can't wait until the nausea is gone!!

Okay here's what happens (in our house) when mommy is sick:

KIDS:

• wake up at normal (or even earlier) time.
• feel super--appear to have more energy than usual.
• demand very complicated breakfast; refuse to eat it. Ask for more food 1/2 hour later.
• decide to jump on couch (which I'm laying on, dying), build forts, drag every piece of clothing out of their dressers/closets, run outside, fall down in the mud, run back inside, slip on the tile, smear their hands on the walls and furniture, and get into a big fight.....all before 9 am.
• Have huge appetite-any other day I'd have to beg them to eat- and want to eat every hour. (Did I mention the morning sickness and the mere mention of food sending me running for the toilet, garbage can, or sink??)
• Refuse to nap. Color on refrigerator with sidewalk chalk instead.
• Spend rest of the day making messes and fighting, and of course, eating.
• Get a bath and fall peacefully asleep. Alternately wake up at all hours throughout the night because they can sense their mother desperately needs to rest.

Mom:

• Wake up. Feel terrible.
• Make it to the couch.
• Watch helplessly as children wreak havoc on home.
• Try to get up to stop the madness, sinus pressure making head implode so sit back down.
• Decide enough is enough so take medicine.
• Get stoned off of sadistic, mind-altering Tylenol sinus liquid. Feel eyelids being pulled shut by said medication...Pass out on couch amongst chaos.
• Wake up, unaware of surroundings, and groggy from heinous cold meds.
• Feel incredibly guilty that children are left to their own devices; really want to get up and do something with them. Again attempt to get up and be productive, stumble around pathetically, sit back down. Wimper.
• Spend a lot of time between threatening kids with harm to be quiet and apologizing for being such an un-fun mommy.
• Give up and call daddy at work. Beg him to come home.
• Wait an hour. Call again. This time break out heavy artillery and use tears.

Dad:

• Get phone call at work. Hear commotion in background. Decide work is more fun/less work. Stay there.
• Get another, more urgent call. Wife crying--can't take it. Come home.
• Walk in door and want to walk back out.
• Take over kid-duty so wife can rest. Bother wife repeatedly for stupid stuff like, "Where's the remote?" and "What should I feed them?". Get locked out of room; try to find keys to get in, but even in sickness wife is smarter and already hid keys.
• Sit on couch and watch TV while kids bang on bedroom door.

I do have to admit that after I came out of my room and made him feel guilty asked hubby nicely to take the kids outside he did let me sleep for an hour. When I woke up I still felt terrible, and I found the kids sitting in the bathroom sink (yes, BOTH of them on one sink!!). They had bubbles everywhere and the water was overflowed all over the counter, onto the floor, all the way to the carpet outside of the bathroom! I was too sick to get mad-I figured the floor needed to be mopped anyway. When I asked Sarah what they were doing she said, "Scrubbing hands!". Oh, okay. Of course I went looking for Rick after the mess was cleaned up and guess where he was-ON THE PHONE!! GRRRR!!!! MEN.

Anyway I am still sick, but today I don't have the horrendous morning sickness, even managed to eat a bowl of cereal. And I have to say that Rick really stepped up and cooked dinner last night, and even gave them a bath so I could shower by myself!! Still feeling guilty for not interacting more with the kids, but I know that once I feel better we'll do something really fun to make up for it. :)

~10 Signs You're a Mom~

10. You don't get annoyed by annoying toys. The noise just doesn't phase you. You can block anything out!!

9. You thoroughly enjoy and truly appreciate the gift of a complete shower (washing hair AND shaving--!!).

8. You know all the words to all the theme songs for shows such as SpongeBob, The Wiggles, and Curious George. Also, you are secretly frightened and/or creeped out by characters such as The Doodlebops, but you allow the children to watch because, well, the laundry has to get done sometime.

7. You talk about poop a lot.

6. It never fails that if you have an important call to make/receive (okay, scratch that-if you have ANY calls) that is the exact time the kids will morph into hungry, screaming creatures who cling to your leg while hollering like they're on fire. If you go outside for peace and quiet they will either lock you out or follow you. You can't win...make calls during naptime.

5. It is perfectly normal to forget what you were talking about halfway through a sentence. It may never come back to you. Ever.

4. Anytime you're out in public and one of the kids starts getting tired of running errands you'll do anything to keep them happy long enough to finish the task at hand. For example: Bursting into song at the supermarket or doing a jig at the bank...and not caring about the funny looks strangers give you.

3. Bribes, threats, begging...ALL acceptable means of getting children to behave.

2. You know that people who don't have kids know everything about child-rearing and you listen patiently to their "advice" and "wisdom" while your eyes glaze over. Then forget everything they said as soon as they're out of sight. Go back to tending to your out-of-control heathens.

And the top sign you're a mommy is:

1. Every once in a while you give your husband The Look, run into the bathroom where you have a stash of magazines and chocolate hidden, and enjoy your "free time"...when hubby comes to the door after 20 minutes to see if you're okay, you moan and say, "Ill be out soon..." That'll get you 10 more minutes.

Don't worry--any momma will agree that it's all worth it.........after they're tucked sound asleep in bed for the night, of course. ;)

See...They *Can* Be Sweet!!

Awww...the other day Sarah finaly noticed my bloated belly. I told her that there was a new little brother or a little sister in there for her, and I asked her which one she'd rather have.

She paused for a moment, looked at Patrick, looked at my belly, looked back at Patrick...and in a shrill, concerned voice cried: "No!! Keep PatPat!!"

HAHA--I guess I should have explained that it's not a new sibling, but an additional one.

Anytime PatPat tries to climb on me or hit me too hard in the stomach Sarah grabs his arm and says, "No hit tum-tum...B-A-B-Y!" It's so cute!

My Husband Wants to Know What I Do All Day

I can't be the only one who feels like I work so hard all day long and get nothing done?! Seriously, I feel like all I do is cook, clean, and do laundry. And yet we never have a perfect meal, the house is always a wreck, and the piles of clothes don't seem to shrink.


Today I let Sarah's 6 year old friend (our neighbor's granddaughter) come to play. She walked over at 9 am and left about 2 pm. I sent Sarah with her. I think I am a pretty fun, easy-going mom: I let them play Princess with Sarah's costumes, they put on make-up (the play stuff, and they washed it off), we had a tea party, they played in the hot tub.


Anyway, after all that "fun" I was tired and ready for a break. So I thought by having Sarah go to someone else's house for a while I'd get a little peace. Well, this wouldn't be my blog if that were the case!


Patrick told me that he pooped so I went back to his room to get some wipes and a diaper. The wipe warmer was empty so I opened a refill and put some water on them to keep them moist, which took all of 1 minute. That was all the time he needed to open the cupboard in the kitchen, bite open the seal on a spare can of coffee, and cover himself and the floor in grounds:

Now I know it doesn't look like much, but believe me it took quite some time to vacuum up. I had to stick PatPat in the sink and spray him down. Coffee grounds stick to small children and are very hard to scrub completely off. Meanwhile, I forgot all about the poop.


I should mention that the smell of coffee is a major morning sickness trigger for me. That's right, folks: morning sickness. Next Spring I am bringing another menace into society beautiful life into the world!!!


So cleaning the grounds went something like this: clean for a minute, puke for 3 minutes, clean for another minute, puke for 3 more minutes. It took a while-kind of a one step forward, two steps back routine.


So I finished cleaning the mess (if I walk in my kitchen I still feel tiny little particles dig into my feet no matter how many times I've rinsed the floor) and finally remembered the poop (I don't need to go into detail about what that substance is like when left in a diaper too long....). I went into the bathroom to grab a towel to dry everything (baby, floor, myself) and found our cat in the bath tub, eating a roll of toilet paper. The girls had snuck the cat into the bathroom to play and apparently either forgot about her or decided it would be a good idea to leave her in there unattended. So if the tub clogs up tonight I'm playing dumb.


Yup, as soon as all the chaos was under control...."Riiing Riiiing". My butt had not even a chance to warm the couch. :(

Sarah

The other morning I woke up with Patrick at our usual time of 4 am and I went into the kitchen to get the coffee going and found this:
At some point during the (very) few hours between me going to sleep the previous night and waking at 4 am Sarah opened the dishwasher, stood on the door, reached the counter, and helped herself to a buffet of cupcake icing. Then apparently went back to bed.

So when she got up I asked her why she ate the icing off the cupcakes in the middle of the night instead of waking me for a snack, and she replied, "YUM YUM!". Oh.

So the rest of the day progressed with the typical cycle of ups and downs and after Rick came home from work I foolishly thought I could get dinner ready while he occupied the kids. At one point he yelled for me to come help him and said, "Sarah's behind the couch with the scissors". So I barked asked her calmly to please hand me the scissors, which she surprisingly did very willingly. She had that trouble smile on her face so I assumed that she did some costly damage to the (new) couch. Upon a quick visual inspection I saw the couch was just fine and she must have had that smile because I caught her with only seconds to spare. That incident was quickly forgotten.

Throughout our meal I was busy not eating, cleaning stray bits of food, wiping faces, refilling cups of milk, etc. and I kept thinking, Why does Sarah look different? It nagged at me a bit, but with the routine chaos I just didn't think about it long enough at one time to come to any conclusion.

After baths I was dressing the kids in their jammies and putting Sarah's hair into a ponytail so it doesn't turn into a scary ball of knots the next morning. That was the moment it dawned on me:

Sarah cut her hair. She hid behind the couch and cut her own hair. She hid behind the couch and cut her own hair and I didn't even notice.

Thankfully, with a little creative use of barrettes and the side-swept bangs trend (she didn't have bangs before), it doesn't look too bad. And I'm happy to report that all of the scissors are now on top of the refrigerator, which actually I'm not sure is a good idea since I'm sure she'll just come up with a way to climb on top of there to get them. Sarah doesn't let little things like refrigerators get in the way of what she wants.

Before everyone goes thinking I'm a horrible parent that keeps scissors accessible for toddlers to get a hold of and cut things, Sarah has been using scissors for a year now. She has never (up till now, of course) cut anything besides approved scrap papers, and she normally sits at the table.

So after I had Patrick tucked in asleep in his crib I went to get Sarah so we could read a story before she went to sleep. I came around the corner and saw the fridge door opened and a pair of little feet aglow in the light. I crept up and peeked around the door and there is Sarah-with the pancake syrup turned upside down and oozing into her mouth! What is with this girl!? I have never met anyone with such a horrible sweet tooth! I am seriously considering banning all junk food from our house. If all we keep here is that cereal that looks/tastes/smells like cat food (you know-that fiber stuff) and dried fruit I am sure I can fix this rummaging-through-the-food-in-the-wee-hours habit that she's got.

The Difference Between Girls and Boys

I was opening the back patio door to take the kids outside to play and I almost stepped on something yucky. I am not unaware that a disturbing number of my blog entries are about (or at least include) poop. This is an exception. For once my story has nothing to do with bodily functions. YAY! Nope, today I almost crunched a beetle on the steps. A huge, ugly, nasty beetle. Ew, it bothers me to even think of him. You don't understand. Think of a normal-sized beetle and then picture feeding it steroids. Then multiply that by 3. That's the kind of creature we were dealing with. Beetlesaurus...Godzillabeetle.

The difference between (my) boys and girls is: Sarah caught a glimpse of this intimidating insect and bolted across the yard, screaming like she was on fire. Patrick on the other hand, got very wide-eyed and slowly declared in awe, "NEEEEEAT!" He bent over, his little baby face nearly touching the bug, and studied the beautiful greens and blues on its shell. He watched it crawl around aimlessly and ultimately tumble down the step onto the grass. He followed behind it, creeping so slowly to see where it would go next. Then he tried to eat it. Sarah and I were huddled together on top of their plastic picnic table watching in horror. It was like slow-motion: NOOOOOO!!! Fortunately I got to him in time to avoid catastrophe. Unfortunately I had to make physical contact with the bug.

After much hand washing the kids are watching Tom & Jerry. I've had enough outdoors for today.

Gremlin

When I woke up this morning (actually, when Patrick forced me out of my bed a little before 4) I went to turn on the coffee pot and noticed the Winnie the Pooh step stool that Sarah uses to go potty. It was on the floor in the kitchen. I didn't really think anything of it because, well, it was not even 4 am and my brain wasn't turned on yet. Then I went to sit on the couch while balancing Patrick in one arm and hot coffee in the other.

I took note of several pieces of candy and miscellaneous wrappers strewn on the couch, but again, I brushed it off. It is not uncommon for Rick to snack and watch TV after the rest of us have gone to sleep. I was slightly perturbed because I have yelled at him asked him nicely before about leaving candy laying around where the kids can see it and want it.

Hours later, when Rick (finally) got out of bed I mentioned the candy to him, and he said, "Oh yeah. When I got up around 1 o'clock to use the bathroom I heard noises in the kitchen and came out and saw Sarah licking the icing off the cake." (see picture below now)

I am bothered by this. How often does this happen? Rick caught her and didn't do anything? When I questioned him on what he did about it he said, "Well she wanted a drink so I got her one." Okay, not quite the reaction I think is best to correct this behavior. I have been threatening to ban sweets from the house for many months now, but I have never taken action because I must admit I have the sweetest tooth in this joint and sticking to such a harsh rule is basically impossible. I really am going to start putting my stash up high in a locked box where it's safe though.

Ew--Part II

I really hope all kids are this disgusting and it's not just mine:

Earlier this evening I was sitting outside with the kids while they were playing in the baby pool. We put bubble bath in it so they were really having a blast. I even fill it up with warm tap water from the kitchen so they don't have to play in freezing water from the hose. See? That should be enough to keep them entertained for at least a few minutes, right?

I had to run inside for literally 2 minutes (just so you know, we have a big, tall, secure fence around our yard so it's not like the kids are free to roam around the neighborhood or anything), and as I was walking back towards the door I noticed that Sarah was on the patio playing. So I started scanning for Patrick and I saw him calmly approaching the patio. Oh good; everything's fine.

About 5 minutes later we were all inside and I was drying them off and I noticed Patrick had mud smeared all over his upper thigh. I was wiping it away with my bare hand when it dawned on me that I was wiping poop. Obviously I immediately tossed him onto the bath and scrubbed him down. I was about to pluck him out when I realized that he still stunk! It was then that I saw a leaf glued to his hair with...yup...you guessed it...Poop.

During the time that I was finishing bathing Patrick I heard the front door open. The front door opening is cause for concern as there is no fencing and many lead-footed teenagers who think they can drive better than they actually can. So I hurriedly dried PatPat and ran to the window to determine the quickest route to grab Sarah. OH NO!! Where is she!? I was not quite to the panic stage, but getting close when I suddenly spotted a little pink-clothed body laying perfectly still in a pile of leaves. She is in a phase right now and she plays dead a lot (?). By the way it has rained here for the past 3 days and those leaves were not at their freshest. Yuck! Is it just my kids or is this kind of stuff normal??

Wanna See What Happens...

...when I sit down for 10 minutes to nurse? This is my little girl, Sarah. She looks very innocent and harmless in this photo, right? The other night she was having a tea party by herself and she went into the bathroom after I sat down to nurse Patrick. I heard the water running and didn't think much of it; I figured she was rinsing her teacups or making new "tea". This is quite common and normally not cause for alarm. The only mess she usually makes is water on the floor and around the sink which is no big deal.

Not this time. When I became suspicious and went to investigate this is what I found:

Yeah, it's shaving cream. A lot of it. As in Rick's ENTIRE supply. And this used to be a candle:

And here's what's left of the cream and our toothpaste:

Then while I was cleaning this mess up Sarah went into the kitchen, opened the dishwasher, climbed up on the counter, and rummaged through the cabinets until she came across my supply of emergency chocolate. Hey, at least she was generous enough to share with her brother!:

If you are very observant you may have noticed that in the pictures the kids are in their jammies. So that means they had already had baths, and I was ready to put them in bed. Needless to say, bedtime was a bit delayed that night...

I have a cleaning suggestion if you ever find yourself with a bathroom covered in a shaving cream-toothpaste blend: Don't spray it with Windex (or whatever cleaning spray you use) until you have wiped as much excess off with paper towels as possible. The Windex just makes it worse somehow. And just toss the candle. It's easier to replace it than trying to scrape cream and paste out of it and save the wick.

Yesterday Rick came home from work sick so I banished him to the bedroom in an attempt to keep the sicky germs isolated. Men are sooooo funny when they're sick. When the mom is sick nobody cares--dinner still needs to be cooked, the laundry doesn't quit piling up, and kids certainly don't behave. When the dad's sick? Whole different story-he has a little cold and you'd think he's on his deathbed. The pitiful way he moans and calls for drinks and needs so much TLC. I know I am mean for laughing at his misery, but I seriously can't help it. It's my passive-aggressive way of thinking how unfair it is. I would love to be sick if it meant he would take over the household and childcare duties and I could sleep in bed for hours uninterrupted!

Here's my main reason for writing: while Rick was watching TV I had the kids in the kitchen running amok helping me fix something to eat. Sarah and I were chatting about babies and I was asking her if she remembered when Patrick was "in my belly". She didn't, but she was very interested in the concept of a baby growing inside of a belly. She had a very confused look on her face and rubbed my admittedly slightly pooching belly and asked, "baby?". I should have been offended, but I wasn't-I just said, "No, there's no baby in there yet." She paused contemplatively and looked at me. A look of understanding came upon her face and then she stretched her arm behind me and patted my very spacious butt and asked again, "Baby?". Okay, that time I was offended.

Ew.

I cleaned out my car the other day because it was starting to smell funny and I was losing the kids in there. No, really. They came up with a new game: they'd get in the very back seat (we have a Yukon XL) and lay on the floor very still and see how long it took me to find them. I knew it was time to clean it when we had to go to the car every morning to find clothing to wear.


It was ridiculous-I've seen my car messy before, but nothing like this. I actually felt shame. It honestly didn't seem like it had been that long since I'd cleaned it out? If there had been some massive natural disaster I could have easily fled the house and we could have survived for a couple of months with no problem. You name it, I had it in that vehicle. See for yourself:

(Notice the mouthwash...cause you never know when you'll need minty-fresh breath!)

And here's a bunch of clothes on the other side:That was just the stuff I had to bring in. There were two garbage bags full of trash, too. I know-yuck! I found what I think was a McDonald's chicken nugget from long ago, a sippy cup that I wrote off as lost, about $15 in change, a Hershey's bar that looked alarmingly a little too much like poop smashed in the floorboards, among other things.

So after 4 hours of cleaning you'd think I would have learned right? Wrong. Don't look in my car right now...it's getting scary again. What is it with the car? Oops...dinner's burning...

Bed Time? (Ha!)

I am pretty sure it’s time that I re-evaluate our bed time routine. It’s just not giving us the desired results like it used to. Here’s a synopsis if our current regime:

5:30 pm: We tidy up the house a little so Daddy doesn’t see what it really looks like all day long while he’s at work. We make it look like it’s just messy, as opposed to a nuclear test-site. Then we start getting ingredients ready to prepare dinner. I usually open the back door so the kids can play on the patio where I can still see them, but they’re not underfoot. That lasts about 15 minutes and then they come back inside to be entertained so whatever I have not accomplished for dinner has to wait until Rick gets home. When he finally arrives home from work (generally a half-hour later than when he says he will) the kids pounce on him and I sneak away to finish what I have left in the kitchen.

7 pm: When dinner is ready we all sit at the table and we listen to Sarah say the blessing. Her version of the blessing goes something like: “Gah buoy food…eat…loyve ou. Dant ou moych. Amen.” I think it’s supposed to mean: “God bless our food, we love you, thank you very much. Amen.” I don’t care if it’s not “correct”, the point is that she is learning to say grace and that we eat together as a family. Jesus knows what she’s trying to say (um, I hope he does anyway haha) and that’s all I care about. We tried having Rick say the blessing since he’s the man of the house, but that wasn’t working out because Sarah would look so sweet with her petite hands clasped reverently in front of her and her delicate eyelids fluttered closed. Then I would open my eyes to peek at her halfway through, and she’d be sneaking mouthfuls of food off of her plate as if she were a contestant at a pie-eating contest with her hands still clasped reverently. So when she’s the one who says the prayer she doesn’t “cheat”. By the time I am able to take a few bites of warm food the kids are finished eating so I have to find a way to keep them involved so Rick and I can finish eating. Well, so Rick can finish eating. I usually wind up eating cold scraps with my fingers while I’m clearing the dishes. Ah, motherhood.

8 pm: After I clean up the mess (how they can make such a monstrous mess and so little food is ingested I’ll never understand), I strip the kids and lay out jammies and, well, for the complete “Preparing for Bathtime Routine” read the third paragraph of this. Rick relaxes on the couch and the kids and I cram into our shower. The bath time pattern that we’ve developed really needs tweaking. It used to be the most efficient way to get all of us clean and ready for bed at the same time. If I give them a bath in the tub I wind up soaked anyway so why not just get in there with them and have it done with? I am just growing tired of having a Matchbox car (no, no-it can’t be a normal-sized car, it has to be the humongous tow truck one) fall on my toes-which is surprisingly painful-while I am washing my face so I get soap in my eyes and I’m trying to figure out which hurts more-my eyes or my toes-all while one of the kids is trying to sneak out of the shower.

8:30 pm: All of the energy they spend tormenting me in the shower must tire them out because after we get out I slap some lotion on them and squish their bodies in to their jammies, and we kiss Daddy goodnight. Then Sarah lies next to me in my bed (she’s never slept in her own bed, but Rick looks very cute in the pink Princess sheets) and I nurse Patrick to sleep. Patrick is usually asleep within 15 minutes, and I can guarantee that as soon as I put him in his crib Sarah will start asking me for cereal. I always give in because even if it is a stall tactic I am scared that if I refuse it will be the one time she really is hungry, and I couldn’t live with myself if I made her go to bed with an empty tummy. So she eats her cereal and we crawl back into bed. I pretend like I’m sleeping so she’ll get bored and decide she won’t be missing anything if she goes to sleep, too. It does work-her eyes will start to close, and-it never fails-Rick will trudge into the room looking for something ridiculous, like a car title or a book. Why would you need the title to a car all of a sudden at 9:30 pm? And in the more than 7 years that I have known Rick I have yet to see him pick up a book and read it. Needless to say, I get highly irritated when he pulls this night after night, and have taken to locking him out of the room.

10 pm: Sarah will finally give in to sleep around now, which is perfect because this also happens to be the exact time that Patrick wakes up for the first time. I rock him and within a few minutes he falls back to sleep, but I stay in there a little longer than I really have to just so I can smell his wonderful baby scent. Even though I complain about being tired there is something just plain irresistible about that baby smell.

10:30 pm: Ahhh, yes!! Finally the kids are sleeping soundly; maybe I can get some rest now, too…of course, this is about the time when Rick starts making wiggly eyes at me. My job is never done!

11:30 pm: (or so) YAY! I am getting into a comfortable spot in my bed with Sarah clobbering me with a stray arm and I have always suffered horrible insomnia so it takes me a long time to actually fall asleep. It’s so cruel—I am pretty sure I might die from exhaustion and yet sleep eludes me. *sigh*

4:45-5 am: My alarm clock (uh-that would be Patrick) goes off promptly without fail, and the process begins again. I must be doing something wrong. I need to be more efficient! I need a better strategy!! How do other moms do this?

Why Do I Miss Them??

Today was one of Patrick's "early" days. Yep, much to my chagrin he sometimes wakes up earlier than 6 am. The pattern seems to be every other day. It's weird how he has an internal alarm clock--to the minute. So at 5 am I dragged my weary butt out of bed and made coffee, brushed my teeth, and went into Patrick's room to face him. About 8 o'clock I heard Sarah get up, which is my signal that is is safe to allow Patrick to roam free around the house since I no longer fear him waking her up. To my passive-aggressive glee they both stormed in and forced Rick out of bed. I made him some coffee, fed everyone breakfast, cleaned up their messes, and dressed the kids. By this time I was very proud of myself because the kitchen and living rooms were spotlessly clean despite the kids' best efforts to stop me. Their "best efforts" include:

• waiting until I walk out of the room to put a stack of laundry away to throw the rest of the folded laundry onto the floor and stomp it into a wrinkled mess,
• throwing the remote control in the nasty garbage which takes 20 minutes of searching on my part to find, and the only reason I found it was thanks to them...
• dumping the garbage can on it's side and scrambling to shove handfuls of filth into their mouths (I know, they're disgusting kids),
• flushing an entire roll of toilet paper down the toilet (thankfully they didn't unravel it first so all I had to do was scoop it out in a mushy clump-ugh), and last but certainly not least,
• going poop at the exact same time.

We bought another car two days ago-new to us, but not NEW new. We laughed at ourselves because we wound up with a vehicle identical to the one I already drive-haha-how cute "His and Hers" Yukons! ::eye roll:: Same make, model, year, even the same color...

So Rick needed to tie up some loose ends with the car this morning before he goes to work this afternoon and he asked if I wanted to go with him. I jokingly said, "Well if you wanted to take one of the kids I wouldn't say no..." To my shock he agreed, "Alright...which one?" I decided to really get crazy and test the limits and ventured, "Both??" GUESS WHAT!? He said okay!!!

So I got their little shoes on, fixed them some drinks in the sippy cups, buckled them in their carseats, and kissed their sticky faces goodbye. We have a ritual where we (me & the kids) stand at our living room window and wave goodbye and blow kisses to Rick as he drives off to work. So I went to the window and waved byebye to my little babies. And I started crying. ???

I surprised myself. I have always daydreamed of what I could do with an hour of uninterrupted "me" time. Take a shower, complete with shaving both legs. Read a book (okay, part of a book). Maybe even take a nap? So here's my chance-the house is mine, ALL MINE!!!!!, and huh-I cry?? This can't be a normal reaction? Maybe people are right-the kids need some time away from me, and I need some time away from them? I really don't know. I was stunned that waving to my kids as their father-you know, the other parent-drove off with them would reduce me to tears, but I just missed them so much. What if Patrick did something really cute like say "meow" or growl and I wasn't there to see it? Sure, I've seen him do those things a hundred time, but each and every time I have laughed and had my heart warmed up. What if Sarah did something nice for Patrick, HAHAHA okay I know that's far fetched, so fine-what if she said a new word and I wasn't there to hear it? This is why my kids aren't in daycare-not because of them, but ME. I can't stand the thought of them not being with me; but isn't it kinda weird that I would cry even with my spouse-their DADDY-taking them somewhere? I feel like it is...do I have attachment issues? *sigh* Oh well, I am going to try to relax and enjoy my "me" time. :)

Isn't it funny how the day can go from calm and peaceful to chaotic and out of control in mere moments? Yeah we had one of those tonight. Rick was outside with the kids on the patio and they had been in the hot tub while I was finishing dinner. I saw that they were starting to get out so I went to get dry towels. When I reached the door I looked out just in time to see Sarah's "trouble" grin...the one that never means good news...the one that I dread. She held her cat Nunie perilously over the water, and like a chump he just hung there not trying to get away. Sarah made eye contact with me and let me get out the words, "SARAH--N..." Too late-the cat was officially in the jacuzzi, scrambling to get out. He clawed his way up the side of the tub and made a bee-line to the back door which leads outside. The door was closed so he had no escape route but continued straight toward it and slammed into it. I guess with all the water in his eyes he couldn't see that it was closed or else he just didn't care and would rather be knocked unconscious than deal with Sarah (I can't blame him-I have felt that way, too). Few sights are more pitiful than a wet cat. There he was, wide-eyed and ricocheting off of everything on the patio. Sarah was on his heels (also wide-eyed) and laughing maniacally. She caught him and mercifulessly threw him in again. I know you're wondering why we didn't do anything to stop this cruelty. Honestly, the girl moves so darn fast it happened before we could react. Plus it was kinda funny.

So I opened the door to rescue the stupid cat (all of our cats are unusually patient and good with kids-they have never bitten or scratched the kids which is why they get repeatedly tortured) and he RAN-no, BOLTED-no, FLEW in without touching his feet to the ground and of course brought tons of water in with him. I quickly re-thought my strategy and tried to chase him back out through the front door, but slipped and fell on my butt from the water that the cat left on the floor (it was A LOT). So I was cussing like a sailor a little annoyed that I fell and got up, finally got the cat out, and looked over in time to see Patrick standing in his own little puddle. Several towels later we are all inside, and dinner was served. Ahhh, peace. HA! Yeah right! Sarah decided to help herself to the plate of chicken and wound up dumping it all on the floor. Well, I had just mopped the floor (yes, in my house the way I mop the floor is dump water on it and skate across it with towels) and whatever germs were on it would just build our immunity. So we ate chicken that was on our floor.

My Little Co-Conspirators

Yesterday I woke up to the usual sound of Patrick wailing to be let out of his cage crib around 6:30. My rule is he has to stay in his room until 7 because I am just plain sick and TIRED of getting up so early. If he had it his way we would be up hanging out together at 5 am. It took me almost 2 months to get him to the point that he is now--waking at 6:30 and staying in his crib until 7. It wasn't until after his first birthday that he stopped waking up every 2 hours at night. I'm not exaggerating: EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. FOR OVER A YEAR. So you can see why I don't want to mess up this new schedule.

I heard him crying but decided to get up, brush my teeth, and make some coffee before getting him so that it would be closer to 7 before I went in his room. When I was satisfied that I could stall no more, I crept up to his door because I couldn't hear him whining anymore and I thought maybe, just maybe, he had fallen asleep again. HA! Yeah, like that would ever happen. I saw him standing up, playing with his music box that straps to the railing of the crib (those new and improved mobile things), and talking to the little birdies inside of it. Awww, how cute.

I slowly pushed the door open, hoping to sneak up on him so I could continue watching my little sweetness in the precious moments of babyhood. Whoa! I know that smell! I yanked open the closet door to shed light on the situation and was horrified to see poop smeared on every surface that my eyes scanned. I looked at Patrick and he was naked from the waist down, gleefully grinning up at me and chanting, "Poo-poo!" Grrrrr. He did this on purpose because I wouldn't come in here and get him out!

So I (carefully) lifted him out and held him at arm's length down the hallway to the kitchen where I plopped him in the sink for a bath. He was screaming, which woke up Sarah. So at 7 am I started a load of laundry including every single stuffed animal, sheet, blanket, and pillow. Then I had to disinfect the railings and all of the nooks and cranies of the crib. All this before coffee. Finally (hours later) I was ready to make the crib again so I dressed the kids (it was pretty cold outside), got their shoes on, and put them in the backyard so they could play together while I finished the bed. I looked out the window every 3 seconds to check on them and I noticed Patrick was hobbling a little. One of his shoes was gone. I went outside and searched the entire yard to no avail.

"Sarah! Where's Patrick's shoe?"

Blank stare.

"Did you see where his shoe fell off?"

Starts spinning around and singing.

"Sarah, if you find Patrick's shoe I'll give you a piece of candy."

ZOOM!!! Like a flash of lightning the child flew around, closing in on the missing shoe. She triumphantly held the shoe up in the air, and declared, "Candy!!!"

So I gave her a Hershey Kiss, and another to share with her brother. Patrick has learned about candy. He definitely knows what it is and he calls it "na-na" and demands it on a regular basis (no, I do not give it to him on a regular basis). After that I went back into the house and resumed what I was doing. I have a bad habit of not actually accomplishing anything when the kids are playing outside because I will stand where they can't see me and spy on them. I have waited a long time to see them interact together, and I just can't help but to watch them. And it's so much more fun when they think I'm not around.

So there I was, not being productive and spying on the little ones when I observed Sarah approach PatPat. Now admittedly I expected the worst: I was totally prepared to hear Patrick yelp for help and watch as he was brutally pushed to the ground, kicked, or had a toy snatched away from him. But no! That's not what I saw at all. Sarah said something to PatPat, and I could tell he was actively listening. He sat down, as if on command (I'm assuming that's what Sarah was telling him to do), and let Sarah take his shoe off. I was too busy watching their sibling bond in action to think ahead. So she took off the shoe and threw it away from them. Then she pulled Patrick up and they both ran up to the back door. Now I was slowly getting it. Sarah said, "Mommy! PatPat shoe!" and I played along, "Oh no! PatPat's shoe is gone again?"

I followed them outside and Sarah ran right up to the shoe in question and brought it back to me. "Candy???" Patrick was right there beside her asking for "na-na" as well.

I don't care if I'm setting myself up for a lifetime of being manipulated! I don't care if they think I'm stupid and they think they can get away with anything! I don't even care if they get a cavity! I don't care about anything except that my kids worked together to accomplish a goal! They discussed it, came up with a plan, most importantly, they WORKED together to help each other. Awwwwwwww, my heart melted right there, and yep, I gave them the candy. :)



(*Yes, by the way, I do realize that I will probably not find this behavior so cute in a few years, but for right now I do.*)