Growing an extra arm...

I have this very weird theory/idea or whatever you would call this - it is very science-fiction-y and I am not a very science-fiction-y kind of person...I think I am the only person on the planet who has not seen Star Wars nor do I have any desire to do so...Anyway, I have always thought that the only flaw I can find with God's work of the construction of the human body is that a woman does not grow another arm while she is pregnant. I have consistently found that I am one short - there just simply are not enough hands to do the various things I am called to do throughout the day. Once Bubba Boo was born, I realized that I was now two arms short of the ideal so I am thinking we need to grow/gestate another arm throughout the nine months we are pregnant. Yes, I realize this could mean that some women have upwards of four arms or more but necessity trumps vanity here...Shirts can be altered and if we are all growing these arms, clothing designers would cater to us - just think, the two arm shirt (for those without children), the three arm shirt (for those with one), and so on...The arms do not need to be permanent - they can gradually grow shorter as they are not needed as much...This would be kind of like a lizard's tail that regenerates - we lose it but we can grow it back as soon as we need it again...
Yes, very weird thought...I know it but I guarantee the moms who are reading this won't think it is such a bad idea...

Bubba Boo, Classic Old Spice, and Missy Moo

Here are the two boys in my life and the sweet Missy Moo who makes me giggle more and more each day...Tomorrow she is allowed to wear her Princess nightgown to school (instead of wearing costumes the children are going to wear jammies - what a PC thing to do in this weird anti-Halloween world we live in...) and she is beyond excited. Of course, I am not sure how I will explain why she can suddenly wear her jammies out of the house since we have recently entered a phase in which we only want to wear our jammies all of the time...

Classic Old Spice

It is truly amazing how easy it is to start taking someone in your everyday life for granted as I realized this past week when some recent drama unfolded in our family. Like it or not, your spouse and your mother are the two people in the world who are typically the ones who see the good, the bad, and the REALLY ugly and love you just the same. I admit that I have at times settled into the fact that I am completely comfortable with my husband and can be snippy and short when I am tired or just plain cranky. No, he does not deserve this but I will say that I am also that person for him - he is secure enough in my love for him so I am also sometimes his punching bag when life gets a little too tough to handle. The thing is, he is correct - I am always going to love him and accept him for who he is regardless of how irritated he gets at me for leaving my thousands of water bottles throughout the house or when I lose my keys, sunglasses, and cell phone around 30 times each day...So here is the latest Dynasty drama (this is what I call the episodes in my life that resemble a soap opera): I am pleasantly enjoying an afternoon of playing with Bubba Boo while Missy Moo continues to nap peacefully in her bed. I let Ellie Rose the WonderDog out to tinkle and pop some popcorn while simultaneously turning on Oprah, my guilty pleasure for the afternoon. It was a windy day and it did occur to me that possibly our ridiculous gate, a part of the "Million Dollar Fence" that was never constructed correctly, could have blown open but then, being a mommy, I got distracted by a projectile vomit and a diaper change before I was able to get back to that thought...You probably have guessed where this is going and you are correct - the gate was open and Ellie the WonderDog was long gone for the tenth time since April. You would also think that since this has happened before we just might remember to put a collar on her each day but of course, that would just make too much sense...I frantically run around the houses around us yelling for Ellie but of course, she is out enjoying her new-found freedom while I start to envision someone picking her up and taking her home where they will abuse her and not ever feed her or let her nuzzle in bed with them every now and then...Once Missy Moo wakes up, we pile in the truckster and slowly drive through the neighborhood yelling Ellie's name out the windows - of course, Missy Moo thought this was hysterical as she concluded that we must be playing a game with Ellie and she was going to pop up any minute. Bubba Boo contentedly chewed on his Who-Zit because of course, being Bubba Boo, nothing fazes him. Defeated, we returned home to begin dinner preparations and edure what I recently read is "suicide hour" for all mommies around the world. Just as I was putting the potatoes into the boiling pot and Missy Moo and Bubba Boo were playing in the playroom, the phone rings. It is a credit agency calling on behalf of Southwestern Bell and by golly, they want to collect on an outstanding balance of $189.92 that I owe them from when I lived in Dallas. Dallas? Why, I have never lived in Dallas - how could this be? As the person on the other end of the line asked if it was possible that maybe my identity had been stolen, my wheels began to turn...Sadly enough, there was another husband in my life before I found the soulmate to whom I am currently hitched and yes, he had used my social security number to obtain an apartment in Dallas and set-up his phone service. Lovely... As I question the "Dog the Bounty Hunter" of the credit agency as to what I can do, he simply just said there was nothing I could do - it is on my social security number, so sorry about your luck. I promptly get all of the information I can out of my newly-found friend and immediately dial the number of my ex-mother-in-law to obtain the phone number of my ex-husband (yes, I am Linda Evans at this point) while Bubba Boo grins at me from the Jumper-Roo and Missy Moo sings the "Being Together" song from Barney at the top of her lungs. After a quick convo with the ex-MIL, I then leave a message for my ex and return to the potatoes, seething that yet again, I have been faced with his financial irresponsibility. If this were the first time this had happened, it would be one thing, but this is about the third time I have gotten a random phone call from someone claiming that I owe money on his behalf. Tired of constantly looking over my shoulder, I decide to call my friend at the collection agency to ask a few questions that had come to my mind since our prior conversation when hubby walked in to find me near tears. Looking bewildered and possibly a little concerned that Missy Moo had, at this point, decided to strip down to her diaper but left on her socks and was wildly running around our house screaming "Daddy's home!!!", I ended the conversation with my buddy and tearfully briefed him on the latest Dynasty drama. "That's it," he said. "Where is the number of the collection agency?" I gave him the piece of paper that contained the requested number as well as the current phone number of my ex-husband. Still sporting his work-clothes, he bounded up the stairs with the phone and a determined yet peeved look on his face that quite frankly, I was a little scared of. There are times in your life as a wife when you just step aside and this was one of them...So back to the potatoes I go and in between adding the margarine and milk, I hear a conversation that does not really sound like one would have with a collection agency. Lo and behold, my knight in shining armor really HAD had enough as he was talking to my ex-husband and the conversation did not sound like they were discussing the joy of being married to yours truly.
Once this lovely tete-a-tete was over, he then called back the collection agency and discovered that to remove this permanently from my credit, which impacts him of course, we would have to file a police report and claim a stolen identity. While I am not a huge fan of the man I was once married to, I realize there were reasons why he made bad decisions a few years ago that I am not going to go into here - let's just say that while there is no love lost, I also have compassion for what the man went through. I do not want to have to file a police report against him, but I also want to protect my credit as well. I will do what I have to do for my family.
In the meantime, Ellie the WonderDog has not returned and I continue to envision the corrupt and evil people who have dog-napped her. When hubby finally returns downstairs, he is dressed for his scheduled workout and as he leans over to give me a kiss, I catch a whiff of the new shower gel he purchased recently - Classic Old Spice. I have often thought of this scent as one that my Industrial Arts teacher in sixth grade always wore and was not always too fond of it but for some reason, today it made me feel secure. I loved the classic aroma - a tried and true scent that has stood the test of time and is still sold today. It is worn by men who do the right thing even when it is not the popular thing to to do, who stand up for their families, and fight for their wives. It is worn by my husband, who is all of those things. While I give him a kiss and my red eyes fill with tears, he says "Don't worry - we are going to get all of this cleared up." I know we will because he said so but I wish I could say that was why I was weepy - I was weepy because our four-legged firstborn baby was missing and I needed to find her but was unsure of what else to do. "I know honey, but this is the longest she has ever been gone and she probably isn't going to come home," was hubby's response. Sadly, he was probably correct as it was almost 6 p.m. and it gets dark now at 7 p.m. - of course, this brought on a whole new crop of images of what was going to happen to poor Ellie. Hubby had to go, so I hugged him again and got the potatoes, mashed and ready at this point, on the table for Missy Moo and Bubba Boo. Just as I was tearing into the green beans, I hear the front door open and my husband say "Get in there and go say hello to your mother!" The WonderDog happily bounds through the kitchen with a grin that tells me she just had the time of her life and my Classic Old Spice winks at me and rides away on his horse.

Halloween Scaries...

Happy Halloween, Everyone! Here is my buzzing busy bee (SO appropriate) and my darling little scarecrow...

Who Knew the Terror of Headless Mannequins?

So I decided to be brave and, fed up with not having a sitter, thought it might be a good idea to get out of the house and go to the local mall with my two munchkins. I have found that when I do hire a sitter so I can shop peacefully or do whatever it is I want to do, I feel extra horrible about spending some cash because I then have to pay a sitter and sitters just aren't cheap these days. I kind of view it like this - let's say you find a great sale at Macy's and save a ton of money on a sweater (or whatever - you fill in the blank) but then you have to go home and pay a sitter so it's like you never found the sale to begin with...Yes, I know, it could be more if you bought the sweater at full price AND paid the sitter but alas, the stay at home mom in me would NEVER do such a thing. But, I digress...Luckily, I have befriended the sitter I often use, Ashlee, who is a student at the local college and absolutely wonderful. She called today to see if she could come over and do some laundry (remember the Laundro-Mat days of college? I gave her free-reign to do laundry at our house whenever she wants so she never has to do laundry in a Laundro-Mat again). Bubba Boo awoke from his TWO HOUR NAP (yes, if you read earlier posts, you are reading this correctly - TWO HOURS. He woke up after 20 minutes and cried for three minutes then went to sleep!!!!! PRAISE JESUS, HALLELUJA! Again, I digress...) as I was emerging from a fantastically wonderful and incredibly rare afternoon shower so I dressed and quickly went to scoop up my smiling peanut with the cute dimple and cover him in kisses for being such a good boy. Missy Moo, on the other hand, decided that today would be a good day to attempt a three hour nap and did not get out of bed until 4:30 - at which point I WOKE HER UP (yes, I know, Cardinal Mommy Sin #1) so she would be able to sleep tonight. Trust me, I have heard the child awake and playing "Keep Away From Nemo Fish" at 11 p.m. - it happens. After a long emergence back into the waking world at which I had to rock her in the rocking chair for a good ten minutes and bribe her with a snack of animal crackers and a forbidden Minute Maid juice box reserved for such occasions (OH- Cardinal Mommy Sin #2 - Do not use food to bribe your child) we piled into the truckster for a trip to the mall. Ashlee being Ashlee decided to join us as she did not really have any plans and I guess thought it might be fun to peruse the mall with a SAHM that doesn't get out much and her two babes. First of all, the production of going to a place such as the mall is exhausting within itself - I had to try to figure out my new Maclaren stroller that I hate so much I actually kicked across the garage last week...Yes, I know this does not sound like something I would do but I really hate it and it always seem to be a bear when I really need it not to be...I then must make sure that I am packed with all the essentials...Bottle filled with eight ounces of water? Check. Formula container with enough formula for eight ounces of water? Check. Sippy cup of water? Check. Continuation of animal crackers snack? Check. Size four diaper? Check. Size three diaper? Check. Cell phone, sunglasses, wallet, etc. - you get the drill. I am ready for bed before I even pull out of the garage. I do admit that I often love the travel time once I get into the car because I am guaranteed at least ten minutes or so of peace since we are driving in the car and I cannot find the Potty Power DVD case, turn on the princess movie, locate the bunnies, or any of the other various tasks that I am called upon to do throughout the day - I can actually have a completed thought! Oh the joy! So anyway, we arrive at the mall, park the car, get the hainted stroller out of the back and pack in Missy Moo and Bubba Boo side by side. Though the Maclaren is touted as able to fit through doorways, it does not navigate well through aisles of department stores - cannot even begin to tell you how many things I knocked over and bumped into - so much that Ashlee declared that she was buying me a new stroller...I simply wanted to check out the possibility of new pillows so my beloved hubby and I could trash the dust-mite infested pillows we have been using for far too long but are too lazy to do anything about. I also thought it might be nice to find one of those cute new jacket sweaters that are so en vogue right now and maybe a few other things...However, this was all halted after Sarah let out a wail that made me think maybe her foot was caught in the wheel of the devil stroller. I deciphered a "Mommy, I want to go home!!" through her sobs as she pointed hysterically to the headless mannequin modeling the latest goods in the store - and they were everywhere. Who in God's name would have ever considered the fact that a mannequin would be scary to a two year old? Ashlee and I both quickly concluded that they WERE indeed scary - why do some stores use headless mannequins? They ARE creepy and though I admit it is something I have never really thought much about or noticed before, seeing the world through the eyes of Missy Moo changes my own perception of the world, too. So, we decided it was to time to just exit but of course, avoiding the stores with headless mannequins was darn near impossible - EVERYONE seems to be on the headless manneqin horse these days! We did enjoy three iced pumpkin cookies and Bubba Boo got some good giggles from watching everything that goes on in a mall then we were pretty much ready to reload into the truckster. Of course, Missy Moo then began to ask if Bubba Boo was really going to turn into a pumpkin since I told Ashlee that he would if we were not home by his holy-grail bedtime of 7 p.m. Little did I know that the toddler ears listening in would take this literally and begin to worry that her little brother was in fact going to turn into a pumpkin if we did not get him home in time for bed. The good news of the night is that we did get him home in time so that we can confidently say that Bubba Boo did not turn into a pumpkin. The bad news is that once I got him down and thought a bowl of Grape Nuts sounded good for dinner, I opened the silverware drawer to find a drugged-out, sluggish fly hanging out in the corner. Yes, the fly had gotten trapped in the drawer and was most certainly buzzing around and crawling all over the utensils we use to eat our food with. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night washing its contents. And these are the days of Missy Moo and Bubba Boo...

Day Two of Naptime Boot Camp

OK, I put Bubba Boo down at 8:50 a.m. and he nodded off to a peaceful slumber...While I was rejoicing and thinking maybe he was going to get "it", I realized that I was breaking Super Mommy Rule #1 - do not EVER get too excited about your child's sleep patterns or lack thereof. Lo and behold, by 9:20 a.m., Bubba Boo was screaming incessantly in his crib as I began to nibble on my cuticles and ponder whether or not he was going to become a serial killer because I am making him cry through this...My persistant little man cried from 9:20 until 10 a.m...Needless to say, I was an emotional wreck and thought I might need to throw my "Sleep Bible" across the room - no crying for more than hour it says...He barely made it as he fell back asleep at 10:10 and is still sleeping...Let's hope for a peaceful afternoon nap but I feel we might be on to something since he was able to put himself back to sleep...Whew!

The Small Things That Count

I believe in the small things. When I think of the things that tug at my heart the most, I realize that what matters most of all are actually the small drops that lead to the whole cup of water.

- I believe there is nothing sweeter than a fantastic page-turner or a juicy magazine, a phone that is off the hook, a good cup of coffee or tea, a thunderstorm, and children who are napping at the same time.

- I believe that the best scent on this planet is that of a baby’s head. I inhale it deeply several times a day for as long as I can because I never know when I will wake up and the scent will be gone.

- I believe that I teach my babies how to navigate this life simply by my actions. I also believe that I am human and the best way for them to learn how to say “I’m sorry” is from hearing their mother say it to them.

- I believe that life is not meant to be easy so buck up and get ready! It sure is great and worth the bumps along the way.

- I believe that we are all learning together. Therefore, I believe in second chances and grace for one another. Most importantly, I believe in granting grace for YOURSELF. Being perfect is too much work.

- I believe that I did not understand my mother’s silliness over curfew, car-dating, good grades, and not having friends over if she was not home. Now my children will be adhering to these rules as well so I believe in experiences coming around “full-circle”.

- I believe you can’t say “I love you” enough.

- I believe that my inbox will never be empty.

- I believe that the best sound in the world is the belly laugh of a child.

- I believe it does not matter if you have the smartest child in the neighborhood but rather the most caring and compassionate one that will take the world by a storm and leave it a little bit better than it was before their existence.

- I believe I have my own learning curve and as a result, sometimes have to make the same mistake over and over before the lesson starts to creep into my thick skull.

- Lastly, I believe we should all live our lives with the philosophy of my Labrador Retriever: sleep when you are tired, eat when you are hungry, play a lot each day, cuddle, use your cute, sad eyes when you might need them, and for heaven’s sakes, don’t walk through your own stuff. What is done is done and we can only move forward.

The Seasons of Magazine Subscriptions

Who knew the importance of magazines? Yes, you read that sentence correctly – magazines. Though this may sound a bit strange to so passionately believe in a glossy set of pages that can be purchased at a supermarket, let me explain why magazines have shaped my journey through this life and have allowed me to reflect on the seasons we experience as people inhabiting this planet for a short while.
I will never forget the day when I was a newly-crowned official preteen and wandered into Cowan’s Drug Store to peruse the nail polish and possibly purchase some blue eye shadow that I could easily hide from my mother. Between the Maybelline and Cover Girl displays, I discovered the angled rack of glossy magazines beckoning me to take a look – who could resist Ralph Macchio on the cover of Tiger Beat? And so my relationship with magazines took off on this crisp fall day where the coolest thing going was me.
Soon after the discovery of Tiger Beat, I moved on to Super Teen, Teen Beat and of course, Seventeen. A twelve year old reading Seventeen? I was mesmerized by these fresh-faced, teenage girls who played volleyball in the sand, wore Body Glove bathing suits, and touted the products they used to control the inevitable teen acne. Living in Indiana, I could only try to imagine what their glamorous life entailed so I read Seventeen to dream of a place where someday I might actually be able to experience. My heart did a flip in my chest when these new magazines arrived in my mailbox each month and pity the fool who might accidentally splash water on my new copy or handle the pages a little too harshly!
Of course, like everything else, life moves on and new seasons emerge. I said good-bye to Teen Beat, Super Teen, and Tiger Beat and moved on to Sassy while keeping my sacred Seventeen subscription active. By this time, I was a full-fledged high school student and the coolness factor was off the charts. My mother knew nothing and I knew everything thanks to my escalating hipness factor. However, by my senior year, I had said good-bye to my beloved Seventeen and began to set my sights upon Glamour and, gasp, Cosmopolitan. College here I come!
During the grueling soul-searching period of my collegiate days, I soon discovered that sometimes you just need to not think about your philosophy of life and what you wanted to be when you grew up – enter People magazine. I loved reading about what Julia Roberts wore to an opening or the handbags popping up on the arms of celebrities everywhere – what a refreshing breather in between studying for finite math and biology!
Fast forward to my life now – I am a stay at home mom to two very beautiful babies with a husband who is so wonderful I still get a thrill when he walks in the door at the end of the day. What am I reading now? Good Housekeeping, Redbook, Real Simple, Parents, and Parenting. Need I say anymore about my current season of life? I know enough now to relish this one as there will inevitably come a day when I no longer feel that Parents and Parenting will be pertinent to my life. I still get a thrill when they show up in my mailbox and in fact, my very beloved grandmother, Meemo, and I recently discussed the challenges of being a stay at home mom and though her youngest child is now 50, she remembers like it was yesterday. Her favorite moment? When her issue of Good Housekeeping arrived and her four babies went down for the night.
So what is next on the horizon? Working Mother? Most? AARP? Though none of these appeal to me now, you can bet your bottom dollar that some day, with graying hair and hot flashes, I will put one of those in my grocery basket and relish it at home with a cup of herbal anti-aging tea. Oh, and People magazine? Still a loyal subscriber.

Piece I wrote from last year - "It's Happening Again"

It’s happening again. Though I am trying to deny that it is and I am wrapped tightly in a cocoon in my cozy bed with pillows over my head, it is happening again. After merely 45 minutes of naptime, my toddler has awakened in a fit of wails that sound as though she has been stung by a bee – multiple times. This would really not be a problem if this were an isolated incident; however, it’s now the third day in a row in which the bees have stung and I am tired. Yes, I know most moms use naptime to get other things done around the house however, I am now carrying my second child and in the first trimester. Need I say more? I still feel like I am running through Jell-O and can barely lift my head off the pillow. Everyone who talks to me sounds like they are speaking in those slow motion voices that were rumored to contain subliminal messages in the late sixties. This whole pregnancy thing was much easier the first time around but now I have the love of my life, a two-and-a-half foot, 22 pound, tiny Napoleon that demands energy that I did not have to expend the first time around. As the wails continue, I hear the voice of that Ferber guy saying you must let them cry it out and part of me knows this might be true. However, the real part of me, the part that is a mommy, simply can’t do it. I lay there for a little while longer…Maybe it will stop.

My nap companion, along with the 12 week old embryo developing in my body, looks sadly at me with dark brown eyes and seems to feel exactly the same way I do. She yawns and lays her head down on my shoulder as if to say “I agree with the Ferber guy – let her cry”, but then this may not be the most reliable of sources. After all, our 80 pound bundle of joy is our first-born even though she has four legs and tends to prefer lamb and rice kibble over ravioli and chicken nuggets. Though she does love her baby sister, there is still a longing that I see sometimes in her eyes that yearns for the glory days – the days when she was the baby and could demand that we throw a ball for her or take her for a walk.

As to be expected, the wails have now escalated and I tell that Ferber guy to do something that I can’t print here…Though I am tired and somewhat peeved, I go straight to her room and, sensing that she is still tired and possibly had a bad dream or her teeth hurt or she was lonely or whatever, I take her back to my cocoon. Yes, I hear the anti-family bed advocates yelling loudly at this point but I tell them the same thing I told Ferber and climb into bed. My first-born gives me a lazy, disdainful look that communicates what Ferber would probably say back to me: you sucker. She puts her head back down in an attempt to stop the madness while we get situated and I start my meditation of begging to get my child to sleep.

It actually works. Just seven short minutes pass before my mini-Napoleon is fast asleep and my first-born is as well. I lay there with eyes wide open, letting go of my frustration and gazing upon the sweet face that is now so at peace with the world. It is a Tuesday afternoon and I know where my child and sassy first-born is at this exact moment and I realize that this won’t last forever. There will be a time when it will be strange for me to go in and lift my child from her bed if she has a nightmare and have her sleep on my chest in an attempt to calm her down. There will be a time in the very near future when she will not even want to be seen with me – I will have to drop her off at the mall three blocks before the entrance so no one can see that she has a mother. There will be a time when I will not know anything and I am sure that at least once, she will roll her eyes at me. So I guess for now, I am happy that I decided to tell Ferber to…well, you know. My baby, who will always be my baby, is where she needs to be and so am I.

Another napless fit...

Well here I sit on a rainy Monday afternoon stuffing myself with a bag of microwave popcorn and listening to Bubba Boo wail incessantly in his crib as he desperately tries to put himself back to sleep...This is the first day of the "Nap Boot Camp" that is going to continue until he gets that we don't take 20 minute cat naps all day...Never mind that Missy Moo is asleep peacefully (or was) in the next room - sometime you just have to have a little training to help you along!

Of course I am now having the internal struggle of do I go get him or let him cry for a bit to see if he will fall back asleep...My sleep Bible says to make him cry for a bit and if I go get him I have just taught him to cry for that period of time but wow is it difficult to listen to your peanut scream as if they have not eaten in 12 days (no he is not hungry - I fed him right before he went down and truthfully, at 19.5 pounds at six months, I am not really worried about him starving anytime soon).

I give up - I am going in. We will try again tomorrow.