It's been a while since I have written anything. To be honest, I lost my "find the humor in sucky situations" to not let life get too serious for a little bit. My hubs was working in NYC and only home for the weekends, I was at home with 3 little boys flying solo... totally winging it. Things were a little intense for a while, but then something happened that I really laughed till I had tears running down my face. Ok, so I was choking a bit so that is probably where the tears came from, but I laughed- and that was the point. It was a quick episode and then the day continued on and I forgot about it. The Hubs is home for good now and my sense of humor is coming back (slowly) thank goodness. Then yesterday I was reminded I have a teeth cleaning on tuesday and that funny situation came back up so I thought I'd share.
So, like I said, the hubs was in NY and for whatever reason I couldn't find a babysitter so I decided just to take Dylan with me. I was hoping he would be scared of the noise and equipment and new faces and would sit like a statue. I was right... for about 5 minutes. The hygienist was worried about him grabbing out at a sharp tool and get hurt but I assured her I would hold him away from the tools. She tried to chat him up but I told her to not waste the "scared still" time and get to work. Parenting at it's finest. He sat still and chilled out then I could feel him start to warm up and look around. My girl was moving pretty quick and was about half way done by then. Big surprise, Dylan tried to grab at the tools but I had a firm grip on him so he held out a few more minutes. This is where it gets good (or bad if you are me). Picture this- I am laying back in the chair, the hygienist is doing her thing and there is that inevitable bit of spit that settles in the back of your throat that you can't swallow or do anything about because someone has their hands in your mouth and you are trying to to move or bite her. Then all of the sudden Dylan displays his lightning quick octopus arms and grabs the full cup of water from the rinse station and dumps the whole thing in my lap. That water is cold when you aren't expecting it in your lap!! I jumped and did a sharp inhale in reaction, and tried to sit up and not dump Dylan on the floor. What I really did was inhale that little bit of spit straight into my lungs and started choking. I also was choking because a tool had also just jabbed me in the throat when I tried to sit up and cough and gag. It was not pretty! The hygienist didn't realize what happened and thought she really hurt me- the look on her face was priceless! I soon caught my breath and explained what happened and we (I) had a good laugh about how things like this just happen to me on a regular basis for some reason. I should have been happy that it was just water and not that little mirror on a stick up my nose or in my eye- that would have been less than awesome. Now for the not so funny part. I forgot about my cleaning appointment for next week and have yet to set up a babysitter. So as of right now, Dylan is going with me... and who knows what kind of trouble he will cause this time! What I do know, however, is that the little cup will only be filled when I need it, not sitting there filled up to the tippy top and taunting Dylan... "dump it on your mom"... "dump it on your mom"... On second thought, I think I might just reschedule... but that would just be too easy and less eventful. Then what would I have to write about!!
~Until Next Time... S.
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Grocery shopping with 3 kids… please stop gawking.
Here we go… mentally prepping for a grocery store trip… with (gasp) my children.
The hubs and I must have been crazy, out of our minds, insane, psycho, circus people to have, wait for it, THREE children- and on top of that- oh yes- they are all boys… can you believe the horror!!!! Yes, people, I have 3 children, who, luck would have it, are (gasp again) BOYS- insert scary movie scream!!! One of the fun parts of having boys is that they eat. a.lot. I am constantly worried about how we are going to afford to feed them when they are teen agers, but right now I'm keeping up with feeding little people and it is hard enough! If we would like to continue to eat- we have to go to the grocery store- since it is frowned upon to leave little people at home alone- we must ALL trek to the store. I'm not going to lie- there have been, and will be again, times where I wanted to stick a kid (or two) on the shelf and leave him for someone else to buy. I many have had a time when I wanted to spend a few extra bucks on bungie chords and duck tape to strap a child to the front of a cart and tape him up to keep him quiet- ha ha, I could just imagine the faces of people as I gingerly strolled down the isle with a hostage taped to the front of my cart!! Those who don't have three boys 4 and under- don't judge me… they were only thoughts!!
Lately, the boys have been pretty fun to go places with. We talk, we joke, we play games… we may look like a hot mess, but we are usually having a pretty ok time. This particular trip to the store started like any… I needed milk. I said it- one thing… Milk. I go in and instantly think- we should get a watermelon, and cereal, and yogurt… annnd, It spirals out of control from there… you know how that goes. So, since it was the last stop on our day of errands, the kids were tired and not really feeling it, but they love their milk, so in we go. On to loading them up in the cart. Ahh, the grocery cart… A trip to the store with 3 kids pretty much goes two ways when it comes to the cart. You either have room for 1 kid in the front of the cart and the other two have to either walk or hang on to the sides… not the front- that ends up with fighting on who gets the front and then the cart pulls to the side where the other kid is and it's like driving a car with one flat tire and then somehow there is some type of intricate display of something fragile at the end of every isle. Not awesome- so my rule is one on each side. OR, all 3 in the cart and you have absolutely no room in the cart for any groceries so you now have to push a cart with all three kids and pull an empty cart for the groceries. Personally, I have tried the pull a cart thing once or twice. A person can only tolerate catching your heel on the front of a cart so many times while trying to navigate the store and keep 3 kids happy before your head explodes and you lash out at a unsuspecting deli person… "I said OVEN ROASTED turkey, seriously, OVEN-ROASTED!!!" So we stick with the two hold on method. This particular trip- Cooper J, after about 10 min in the store (perfect amount of time for if I was really only getting milk) says his legs are tired and he can't hold on anymore. I get it- it's dinner time, and we have been at it for most of the day. If I had someone to carry me while I shopped- you better believe I would make.that.happen... For me- it is way easier to grocery shop, push a cart, and hold a kid by putting him on my shoulders. This doesn't work for everyone, but for me- and for Cooper J- it works like a charm. No whining, no crying, he is happy to be up high, and I am glad I can continue on with my shopping without a major melt down.
Apparently this scenario, Cart of groceries, one kid riding in the front of the cart, one hanging on to the front (approved spot now that he is the only one hanging on) and one kid on my shoulders, makes people feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable is the only word I could think of to use because people stop, practically in their tracks, when they see us coming and then I guess feel like they know that they have starred too long and now must say something to combat their rude gawking. This is the part I don't understand. I have three kids- not 15 running wild and crazy. I have one shopping cart- not 8 with luggage straps holding them together. My kids are usually happy and/or laughing trying to help me shop and pick out things- not screaming, crying, throwing fits, or being rude. So why do people and their comments make me feel like we just escaped from a loony bin or that three kids is such an imaginable concept in todays society. Maybe we look like more of a mess than I feel like. Maybe we have come such a long way that I don't realize that we are still an absolute mess. Maybe my kids are so cute that people find any excuse to strike up a conversation and spend more time looking at them. Maybe it is me and not the kids that they want to talk to/look at. Either way, "WOW, you have your hands full", "What isle did you pick them up on", "Wow, you must have some serious patience", "Wow, really, ALL boys!!", I could go on for a while longer, but it all seems to make me feel like a freak of nature for having three kids and that I do not have it as together as I think I do. Not a great feeling.
So the next time you see someone cruising the isles with her brood, train wreck or not- but especially the train wreck lad- and you feel the need to say one of those above comments, maybe substitute it for "You look so good- no way ALL of those kids are yours!!" or "You look like you could take over the world- go girl!" Or pretty much any type of cheesy compliment would be awesome. Telling me that I look like I have my hands full just makes me think that I have food in my hair, look like a rolling train wreck, or just stating the obvious because I do literally have my hands, and shoulders full.
So, my new response to these kind of statements will, from now on, be… "Hands full- no way, I've got this"…. because I do… most of the time. Followed up with a high five. Boom.
The hubs and I must have been crazy, out of our minds, insane, psycho, circus people to have, wait for it, THREE children- and on top of that- oh yes- they are all boys… can you believe the horror!!!! Yes, people, I have 3 children, who, luck would have it, are (gasp again) BOYS- insert scary movie scream!!! One of the fun parts of having boys is that they eat. a.lot. I am constantly worried about how we are going to afford to feed them when they are teen agers, but right now I'm keeping up with feeding little people and it is hard enough! If we would like to continue to eat- we have to go to the grocery store- since it is frowned upon to leave little people at home alone- we must ALL trek to the store. I'm not going to lie- there have been, and will be again, times where I wanted to stick a kid (or two) on the shelf and leave him for someone else to buy. I many have had a time when I wanted to spend a few extra bucks on bungie chords and duck tape to strap a child to the front of a cart and tape him up to keep him quiet- ha ha, I could just imagine the faces of people as I gingerly strolled down the isle with a hostage taped to the front of my cart!! Those who don't have three boys 4 and under- don't judge me… they were only thoughts!!
Lately, the boys have been pretty fun to go places with. We talk, we joke, we play games… we may look like a hot mess, but we are usually having a pretty ok time. This particular trip to the store started like any… I needed milk. I said it- one thing… Milk. I go in and instantly think- we should get a watermelon, and cereal, and yogurt… annnd, It spirals out of control from there… you know how that goes. So, since it was the last stop on our day of errands, the kids were tired and not really feeling it, but they love their milk, so in we go. On to loading them up in the cart. Ahh, the grocery cart… A trip to the store with 3 kids pretty much goes two ways when it comes to the cart. You either have room for 1 kid in the front of the cart and the other two have to either walk or hang on to the sides… not the front- that ends up with fighting on who gets the front and then the cart pulls to the side where the other kid is and it's like driving a car with one flat tire and then somehow there is some type of intricate display of something fragile at the end of every isle. Not awesome- so my rule is one on each side. OR, all 3 in the cart and you have absolutely no room in the cart for any groceries so you now have to push a cart with all three kids and pull an empty cart for the groceries. Personally, I have tried the pull a cart thing once or twice. A person can only tolerate catching your heel on the front of a cart so many times while trying to navigate the store and keep 3 kids happy before your head explodes and you lash out at a unsuspecting deli person… "I said OVEN ROASTED turkey, seriously, OVEN-ROASTED!!!" So we stick with the two hold on method. This particular trip- Cooper J, after about 10 min in the store (perfect amount of time for if I was really only getting milk) says his legs are tired and he can't hold on anymore. I get it- it's dinner time, and we have been at it for most of the day. If I had someone to carry me while I shopped- you better believe I would make.that.happen... For me- it is way easier to grocery shop, push a cart, and hold a kid by putting him on my shoulders. This doesn't work for everyone, but for me- and for Cooper J- it works like a charm. No whining, no crying, he is happy to be up high, and I am glad I can continue on with my shopping without a major melt down.
Apparently this scenario, Cart of groceries, one kid riding in the front of the cart, one hanging on to the front (approved spot now that he is the only one hanging on) and one kid on my shoulders, makes people feel uncomfortable. Uncomfortable is the only word I could think of to use because people stop, practically in their tracks, when they see us coming and then I guess feel like they know that they have starred too long and now must say something to combat their rude gawking. This is the part I don't understand. I have three kids- not 15 running wild and crazy. I have one shopping cart- not 8 with luggage straps holding them together. My kids are usually happy and/or laughing trying to help me shop and pick out things- not screaming, crying, throwing fits, or being rude. So why do people and their comments make me feel like we just escaped from a loony bin or that three kids is such an imaginable concept in todays society. Maybe we look like more of a mess than I feel like. Maybe we have come such a long way that I don't realize that we are still an absolute mess. Maybe my kids are so cute that people find any excuse to strike up a conversation and spend more time looking at them. Maybe it is me and not the kids that they want to talk to/look at. Either way, "WOW, you have your hands full", "What isle did you pick them up on", "Wow, you must have some serious patience", "Wow, really, ALL boys!!", I could go on for a while longer, but it all seems to make me feel like a freak of nature for having three kids and that I do not have it as together as I think I do. Not a great feeling.
So the next time you see someone cruising the isles with her brood, train wreck or not- but especially the train wreck lad- and you feel the need to say one of those above comments, maybe substitute it for "You look so good- no way ALL of those kids are yours!!" or "You look like you could take over the world- go girl!" Or pretty much any type of cheesy compliment would be awesome. Telling me that I look like I have my hands full just makes me think that I have food in my hair, look like a rolling train wreck, or just stating the obvious because I do literally have my hands, and shoulders full.
So, my new response to these kind of statements will, from now on, be… "Hands full- no way, I've got this"…. because I do… most of the time. Followed up with a high five. Boom.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Snakes… Oy.
As I may have mention in a story here or there, I feel like I'm a pretty tough cookie. I survived a bat, actually several episodes of bats, in my bedroom, I can handle bugs and creepy crawlies for the most part. I have seen snakes before and have never been really freaked out- but I've never been in a situation where I was forced to deal with one directly. I (hanging my head in the women's movement shame) have always had a man around, i.e., husband, brother, Dad, etc. to help me out. Now that Eric works part of the week in New York I have to handle situations that I would normally not have to. A random beetle in the house, daddy long leg spider that the boys brought in the house to show me… easy peasy. Recently we have had a serious of events happen that have caused me to rethink my tough girl title. Snakes. Oy, Snakes...
The kids and I were at the pool at my brothers house. I am putting toys away and the biggest snake I have seen in a VERY long time practically slithers over my foot to get out of where I was, and the kids were a few minutes before (Oy). My chest tightened. Crap, what do I do now? I yell to my sister-in-law who happened to be outside that there was a "Snnnaaaaaake" (Inside joke from the last time I got cornered by a snake in her basement) She comes down to see the snake and then all of us agree that Pop Pop (my dad) needs to come and get the snake and take it over to the woods away from the pool house. He does his manly man thing and not only gets the snake away from the building, but is brave enough to hold this at least 5ft snake so that the kids can all "ohhhh" and "aaahhhh" and touch it. I even told him- "I'd make a terrible man- I'm not sure I could have done that!" He rolled his eyes, because I'm ridiculous, and puffed up his chest… yup, he is the man.
Fast forward a week or so… In this time, I actually say out loud to someone- "Yeah, there are snakes over here (around the corner from my house) but I haven't seen any over at our house…" Not quite smug, but defiantly delusional and caused Karma to come after me. I pretty much asked for it.
Tuesday, July, 1 2014. I watch my niece and nephew one day a week during the summer. They had just been dropped off and went around the back of the house to play. I talk for a minute to my sister and then she leaves. I go around back to rally the troops and see what they are up to. Cooper J is sitting down in the middle of the yard crying. He is 2 and sometimes throws fits when he doesn't get to say goodbye to people before they leave so I assumed it was that since he didn't say bye to my sister. I yell "Whats wrong buddy" to which he, through tears, says "Bite me" while pointing to something a few feet away. I thought it might have been a bee or something so I yell back from the deck "What bit you?" He cries back at me "Snake bite me" Well that got my full attention… I yell back as I'm running to him "A WHAT BIT YOU!!!!????? " He looked at me like I had two heads because I'm running at him with probably a freaked out face… "the snake" and pointed again to right next to him.
Sure enough… A FLIPPING SNAKE!!!! A SNAKE BIT MY BABY!!!! Holy crap. What do I do??!! Step 1. Remove the kid from two feet away from the snake that just bit him and is still coiled and pulsing. It did not look happy.
(the infamous snake that bit Cooper J)
Step 2. Take a pic of the snake and text to everyone to find out type of snake because I DON'T HAVE A CLUE what kind of snake it is!!! Not to mention what to do now that he has been bit. Turns out it was a Garder snake and is harmless… unless you are 2 and step on it and try to pick it up. Funny, because that is what he just watched my Dad do about a week before to pick up the giant snake at the pool. Pretty smart that kid… minus the try to pick up a snake part. Step 3. Go to ER (by direction of pediatrician and urgent care nurse when I kept trying to dodge the ER) to get bite check out.
Thursday July 3, 2014. I had yard work to do before Eric came home for the weekend. I have a "Mothers helper" babysitter come over to help with the kids while I'm outside trying to get things done. I have my headphones, I have a class of water, I go to pull the tarp off of the lawn mower and BAM….
another snake!!!!!
Seriously??!!! Another flipping snake! Now I am trapped. I am all set to mow the lawn, and am cornered by this snake that has weaved its way into the side vent of the mower. What to do… What to do… Husband is in New York, Brother in law is at work, Dad isn't answering phone… I'm starting to think I'm going to have to deal with this myself. CRAP. Finally, I get a hold of my brother. ME: Are you home? Him: No, (whispering) I'm at the chiropractor, whats up? Me: I have a snake situation and I am a big WEENIE and can't just grab it. Come help me please!! Him: Sorry! (as he chuckles) I'm not home. Just poke it with a stick or something. Me: Aww Man… Another desperate call to my Dad and leave a pathetic message ending with "HELP ME!!" and I am forced to take matters into my own hands. No, not hands literally- as I am now completely disappointed in myself because I am a big fat chicken. I grabbed a rake and, leaning over as far as I can while holding the stick end of the rake all the way out, poke the snake. I'm not sure what I expected to happen- normally when you poke a wild animal, they get scared and run away. Nope, no such luck. The dang thing didn't even move! I thought, maybe it's dead and I can just grab it- but first... maybe I should poke it again just to be sure. It was not dead. It moved just a little but now I was just getting frustrated because I was so lame and was wasting time! I thought, maybe I can hook it with a prong of the rake and kind of fling it off to the side… seriously, it couldn't be that easy. No, as soon as I tried to hook it, it moved further into the engine. I flip the hood open (with the rake- I'm still a big weenie) and am trying to see where it went, I poke around some more see it move and then poke some more and then lost where it went. Crap. Now I'm not sure where it is, I've pissed it off by poking at it with a rake, and now in order to start the engine and get moving (or secretly maybe hoping that the engine somehow flings it out and away from me) I have to push down a pedal to put my ankle directly next to the last place I saw the pissed off snake. Awesome. I did the whole "I only need 20 second of insane bravery- circa "We bought a zoo" movie" and did it. I'm pretty sure I held my breath the whole time while mentally chanting "Please don't bite me, please don't bite me" Engine started, snake was still MIA, and I was able to zip off and get my yard work done- only 35 minutes behind schedule. Bravery level, 3 out of 10. Still disappointing.
Today, July 7, 2014. Today the boys found a snake skin. I'm pretty sure the snakes are now just messing with me. What is worse, seeing the snake and knowing where to avoid or to call a brave man to come help remove said snake or to only see the skin- knowing that it is out there just waiting and being all sneaky hiding where I least expect it then BAM- snake in your face!!
I am aware that I have now blown the whole snake thing out of proportion, and that the snakes that I have had to encounter solo have been pretty small, non venomous and Cooper J's bite could have been much worse, but I have decided to get some gloves to make me brave. You know the black butcher kind that come up to your armpits and that will make me more tough for next time. Thats right- next snake that I come across- watch out. I'm going to pick you up and let the kids pet you for a while. Teach 'em a lesson or two about coming in to my yard!! Yeah right, I'll probably still chicken out and call for help or leave it alone and pretend I didn't see it. Dang, I'm such a weenie.
S.
The kids and I were at the pool at my brothers house. I am putting toys away and the biggest snake I have seen in a VERY long time practically slithers over my foot to get out of where I was, and the kids were a few minutes before (Oy). My chest tightened. Crap, what do I do now? I yell to my sister-in-law who happened to be outside that there was a "Snnnaaaaaake" (Inside joke from the last time I got cornered by a snake in her basement) She comes down to see the snake and then all of us agree that Pop Pop (my dad) needs to come and get the snake and take it over to the woods away from the pool house. He does his manly man thing and not only gets the snake away from the building, but is brave enough to hold this at least 5ft snake so that the kids can all "ohhhh" and "aaahhhh" and touch it. I even told him- "I'd make a terrible man- I'm not sure I could have done that!" He rolled his eyes, because I'm ridiculous, and puffed up his chest… yup, he is the man.
Fast forward a week or so… In this time, I actually say out loud to someone- "Yeah, there are snakes over here (around the corner from my house) but I haven't seen any over at our house…" Not quite smug, but defiantly delusional and caused Karma to come after me. I pretty much asked for it.
Tuesday, July, 1 2014. I watch my niece and nephew one day a week during the summer. They had just been dropped off and went around the back of the house to play. I talk for a minute to my sister and then she leaves. I go around back to rally the troops and see what they are up to. Cooper J is sitting down in the middle of the yard crying. He is 2 and sometimes throws fits when he doesn't get to say goodbye to people before they leave so I assumed it was that since he didn't say bye to my sister. I yell "Whats wrong buddy" to which he, through tears, says "Bite me" while pointing to something a few feet away. I thought it might have been a bee or something so I yell back from the deck "What bit you?" He cries back at me "Snake bite me" Well that got my full attention… I yell back as I'm running to him "A WHAT BIT YOU!!!!????? " He looked at me like I had two heads because I'm running at him with probably a freaked out face… "the snake" and pointed again to right next to him.
Sure enough… A FLIPPING SNAKE!!!! A SNAKE BIT MY BABY!!!! Holy crap. What do I do??!! Step 1. Remove the kid from two feet away from the snake that just bit him and is still coiled and pulsing. It did not look happy.
Step 2. Take a pic of the snake and text to everyone to find out type of snake because I DON'T HAVE A CLUE what kind of snake it is!!! Not to mention what to do now that he has been bit. Turns out it was a Garder snake and is harmless… unless you are 2 and step on it and try to pick it up. Funny, because that is what he just watched my Dad do about a week before to pick up the giant snake at the pool. Pretty smart that kid… minus the try to pick up a snake part. Step 3. Go to ER (by direction of pediatrician and urgent care nurse when I kept trying to dodge the ER) to get bite check out.
Thursday July 3, 2014. I had yard work to do before Eric came home for the weekend. I have a "Mothers helper" babysitter come over to help with the kids while I'm outside trying to get things done. I have my headphones, I have a class of water, I go to pull the tarp off of the lawn mower and BAM….
another snake!!!!!
Seriously??!!! Another flipping snake! Now I am trapped. I am all set to mow the lawn, and am cornered by this snake that has weaved its way into the side vent of the mower. What to do… What to do… Husband is in New York, Brother in law is at work, Dad isn't answering phone… I'm starting to think I'm going to have to deal with this myself. CRAP. Finally, I get a hold of my brother. ME: Are you home? Him: No, (whispering) I'm at the chiropractor, whats up? Me: I have a snake situation and I am a big WEENIE and can't just grab it. Come help me please!! Him: Sorry! (as he chuckles) I'm not home. Just poke it with a stick or something. Me: Aww Man… Another desperate call to my Dad and leave a pathetic message ending with "HELP ME!!" and I am forced to take matters into my own hands. No, not hands literally- as I am now completely disappointed in myself because I am a big fat chicken. I grabbed a rake and, leaning over as far as I can while holding the stick end of the rake all the way out, poke the snake. I'm not sure what I expected to happen- normally when you poke a wild animal, they get scared and run away. Nope, no such luck. The dang thing didn't even move! I thought, maybe it's dead and I can just grab it- but first... maybe I should poke it again just to be sure. It was not dead. It moved just a little but now I was just getting frustrated because I was so lame and was wasting time! I thought, maybe I can hook it with a prong of the rake and kind of fling it off to the side… seriously, it couldn't be that easy. No, as soon as I tried to hook it, it moved further into the engine. I flip the hood open (with the rake- I'm still a big weenie) and am trying to see where it went, I poke around some more see it move and then poke some more and then lost where it went. Crap. Now I'm not sure where it is, I've pissed it off by poking at it with a rake, and now in order to start the engine and get moving (or secretly maybe hoping that the engine somehow flings it out and away from me) I have to push down a pedal to put my ankle directly next to the last place I saw the pissed off snake. Awesome. I did the whole "I only need 20 second of insane bravery- circa "We bought a zoo" movie" and did it. I'm pretty sure I held my breath the whole time while mentally chanting "Please don't bite me, please don't bite me" Engine started, snake was still MIA, and I was able to zip off and get my yard work done- only 35 minutes behind schedule. Bravery level, 3 out of 10. Still disappointing.
Today, July 7, 2014. Today the boys found a snake skin. I'm pretty sure the snakes are now just messing with me. What is worse, seeing the snake and knowing where to avoid or to call a brave man to come help remove said snake or to only see the skin- knowing that it is out there just waiting and being all sneaky hiding where I least expect it then BAM- snake in your face!!
I am aware that I have now blown the whole snake thing out of proportion, and that the snakes that I have had to encounter solo have been pretty small, non venomous and Cooper J's bite could have been much worse, but I have decided to get some gloves to make me brave. You know the black butcher kind that come up to your armpits and that will make me more tough for next time. Thats right- next snake that I come across- watch out. I'm going to pick you up and let the kids pet you for a while. Teach 'em a lesson or two about coming in to my yard!! Yeah right, I'll probably still chicken out and call for help or leave it alone and pretend I didn't see it. Dang, I'm such a weenie.
S.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Insanity... I love you, but we have to break up.
Dear Shawn T and the Insanity team,
I love you, but we need to break up. I swear, it's me, not you... You are really great, I'm just not in the right place to have a relationship right now... You are going to make someone else really happy...
That is all of the cliche break up lines I could think of... bottom line, we are over. I do owe you an explanation though...
I love exercise. I love pretty much all things Beach Body... especially Insanity. After I had Cooper J with a combination of Insanity and weight watchers I dropped 30lbs and was in shape enough to compete in a triathlon. Yeah, I was in pretty much the best shape of my life. At that time, 3 weeks in to the 60 day program I tweaked my back. I recouped for about a week and then was back at it. I focused more on form and controlling my abs so I could prevent future injury.
Fast forward a couple years, another baby, and zero abdominal strength. Why wouldn't this be the perfect time to jump back into the Insanity program full force? I was motivated, was feeling stronger, despite sick kids, lack of motivation at times, missing a few days here and there, I was really trying to stick with it. I made it to week 3 again... it took more than 3 weeks to get there, but I made it. Last circuit of one of the last work outs of the week and BAM. There goes my back... again. Having done this before, I knew that if I just laid down it would continue to spasm and I would get stuck. (Those who have had a back spasm before understand being "stuck") But, I was determined to finish my workout. Because of all of my doctor training (NOT) and my previous stay at a Holiday Inn Express (NOT) I thought I knew what would work. I could not have been more wrong. Insert shocked face. I actually think that I made it worse by trying to push through. The last few days has been way closer to disabled than I have ever wanted to be. I could barely walk and I couldn't lift my kids. I had to explain to the boys that I was hurt and couldn't hold them, which nearly broke my heart. I had to be that wife that I never wanted to be and asked Eric to stay home from work because I didn't feel safe taking care of the kids alone. I was that hurt. VERY strong medication, rest, stretching, and a trip to the chiropractor... 4 days later I am finally starting to feel not broken.
The Chiropractor says I need to stretch and do yoga. Yoga... insert yuck face. I like to be out of breath and drenched in sweat, feeling like I might throw up at the end of a work out. I can say that I have never given yoga a fair shot though... it's always been a down day workout in the middle of some crazy week of intense workouts that most of the time I skip... at the most, something to just stretch out a bit. Maybe I need to refocus my mind and accept that right now, that is what I have to do. I am committed to NEVER hurting my back like this again, so here is me saying so long Shawn T and Insanity workouts. Someday I might be able to do it again, but for now... Yoga it is... Yay for yoga!! Sounds like I'm excited right??.. right...
S.
I love you, but we need to break up. I swear, it's me, not you... You are really great, I'm just not in the right place to have a relationship right now... You are going to make someone else really happy...
That is all of the cliche break up lines I could think of... bottom line, we are over. I do owe you an explanation though...
I love exercise. I love pretty much all things Beach Body... especially Insanity. After I had Cooper J with a combination of Insanity and weight watchers I dropped 30lbs and was in shape enough to compete in a triathlon. Yeah, I was in pretty much the best shape of my life. At that time, 3 weeks in to the 60 day program I tweaked my back. I recouped for about a week and then was back at it. I focused more on form and controlling my abs so I could prevent future injury.
Fast forward a couple years, another baby, and zero abdominal strength. Why wouldn't this be the perfect time to jump back into the Insanity program full force? I was motivated, was feeling stronger, despite sick kids, lack of motivation at times, missing a few days here and there, I was really trying to stick with it. I made it to week 3 again... it took more than 3 weeks to get there, but I made it. Last circuit of one of the last work outs of the week and BAM. There goes my back... again. Having done this before, I knew that if I just laid down it would continue to spasm and I would get stuck. (Those who have had a back spasm before understand being "stuck") But, I was determined to finish my workout. Because of all of my doctor training (NOT) and my previous stay at a Holiday Inn Express (NOT) I thought I knew what would work. I could not have been more wrong. Insert shocked face. I actually think that I made it worse by trying to push through. The last few days has been way closer to disabled than I have ever wanted to be. I could barely walk and I couldn't lift my kids. I had to explain to the boys that I was hurt and couldn't hold them, which nearly broke my heart. I had to be that wife that I never wanted to be and asked Eric to stay home from work because I didn't feel safe taking care of the kids alone. I was that hurt. VERY strong medication, rest, stretching, and a trip to the chiropractor... 4 days later I am finally starting to feel not broken.
The Chiropractor says I need to stretch and do yoga. Yoga... insert yuck face. I like to be out of breath and drenched in sweat, feeling like I might throw up at the end of a work out. I can say that I have never given yoga a fair shot though... it's always been a down day workout in the middle of some crazy week of intense workouts that most of the time I skip... at the most, something to just stretch out a bit. Maybe I need to refocus my mind and accept that right now, that is what I have to do. I am committed to NEVER hurting my back like this again, so here is me saying so long Shawn T and Insanity workouts. Someday I might be able to do it again, but for now... Yoga it is... Yay for yoga!! Sounds like I'm excited right??.. right...
S.
Monday, January 6, 2014
I thought I had seen it all...
I am so far from an expert parent, it is comical. I now have 3 boys and operate by the "fly by the seat of my pants" method which includes minimal research, pediatrician guidance, and a whole lot of luck.
The first baby everything was so new, exciting, frightening. You just take one thing at a time- awww, poor thing spit up again (she laughs with a smile)... WHY is his penis PURPLE??? (that was a legit first baby freak out- and that is exactly what I said to the doctor... who then laughed at me.) The second baby comes and you think, easy peasy, I've done this before, especially since they were both boys- and everything seems like an old hat... till you have to practically build a cage to attempt to keep in him the crib (which he broke free of in less than a day)... and he jumps on the bed and knocks out a front tooth... normal stuff right?
Enter baby boy #3. I have got this. After the first two, there is not much that shocks, surprises, or scares me. You know that sharp intake of breath when you are watching impending doom about to happen... I think mine is desensitized to the point of broken. I have seen enough poop to last a lifetime, have been spit up'ed in my eye and in my mouth... have caught vomit in my hands cause I didn't know what else to catch it with, and have had enough really, really great moments to look back and find the humor in all those crazy situations and think eh, not so bad.
That all leads me to tonight. I had a "first" moment with Baby D that had me laughing so hard that I had tears and my cheeks hurt. I didn't think that there was anything left that could catch me off guard...
Baby D was in the exersaucer while I threw dinner together. He started fussing, conveniently right as I finished cooking. I go to get him out and smell a surprise... no wonder the fuss. I get the diaper, box of wipes, unzip his sleeper and go to do the ole "slide the new diaper under before taking off the old one" trick. My hand instantly smears into poop up the back. Not. Awesome. It has happened before, not the end of the world, but it still sucks anyway. I undo the sleeper all the way because I now know that I'm going to have to change all of his clothes, What I found next was my "never happened before" moment. Not only did Baby D have anti-gravity poop that went up his back, but it went even further. He had rocketed poop up his back all the way up to his neck and out an arm hole of his onesie. OUT the ARM HOLE!!!! I am still laughing. I was able to get his clothes off with out getting poop on his face- always a success. Into the tub, scrub-a-dub and all is well.
Todays lesson: I have NOT seen it all. Everyday there is the potential for something new and unexpected to happen... even if it is just explosive poop!!
The first baby everything was so new, exciting, frightening. You just take one thing at a time- awww, poor thing spit up again (she laughs with a smile)... WHY is his penis PURPLE??? (that was a legit first baby freak out- and that is exactly what I said to the doctor... who then laughed at me.) The second baby comes and you think, easy peasy, I've done this before, especially since they were both boys- and everything seems like an old hat... till you have to practically build a cage to attempt to keep in him the crib (which he broke free of in less than a day)... and he jumps on the bed and knocks out a front tooth... normal stuff right?
Enter baby boy #3. I have got this. After the first two, there is not much that shocks, surprises, or scares me. You know that sharp intake of breath when you are watching impending doom about to happen... I think mine is desensitized to the point of broken. I have seen enough poop to last a lifetime, have been spit up'ed in my eye and in my mouth... have caught vomit in my hands cause I didn't know what else to catch it with, and have had enough really, really great moments to look back and find the humor in all those crazy situations and think eh, not so bad.
That all leads me to tonight. I had a "first" moment with Baby D that had me laughing so hard that I had tears and my cheeks hurt. I didn't think that there was anything left that could catch me off guard...
Baby D was in the exersaucer while I threw dinner together. He started fussing, conveniently right as I finished cooking. I go to get him out and smell a surprise... no wonder the fuss. I get the diaper, box of wipes, unzip his sleeper and go to do the ole "slide the new diaper under before taking off the old one" trick. My hand instantly smears into poop up the back. Not. Awesome. It has happened before, not the end of the world, but it still sucks anyway. I undo the sleeper all the way because I now know that I'm going to have to change all of his clothes, What I found next was my "never happened before" moment. Not only did Baby D have anti-gravity poop that went up his back, but it went even further. He had rocketed poop up his back all the way up to his neck and out an arm hole of his onesie. OUT the ARM HOLE!!!! I am still laughing. I was able to get his clothes off with out getting poop on his face- always a success. Into the tub, scrub-a-dub and all is well.
Todays lesson: I have NOT seen it all. Everyday there is the potential for something new and unexpected to happen... even if it is just explosive poop!!
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Big Girl Panties, no Brief's ON!!!
I grew up in the woods. I can handle quite a bit of "nature" and don't spook to easily. This has really been put to the test the last week or so. The phrase "put on your big girl panties" for anyone who doesn't know means simply to toughen up.
Let me set the stage...
My brother and sister in law have been incredibly generous and have opened up their home to us while we go through a family situation. Ironically, their house is my parents old house- the house I grew up in... and outside are all the same bugs and critters that I grew up with as well. Mason and Cooper are in my old bedroom and Dylan, Eric, and I are in the (finished part) of the basement. It's a pretty sweet set up. We even have our own cable box- WITH dvr... can't get much better than that! Anyway, so Eric has been commuting back and forth to New York on the weekends so during the week, I'm down here with just Dylan. He's not much of a protector just yet.
I very quickly realized that we were not alone. How did I know, well, a BAT started flying around our room. I also quickly realized that I am not as tough as I thought. I respect creatures- with the exception of crickets- they have a purpose and are living things and don't deserve to be killed for no reason. That respect comes to a screeching halt when they decide to take up residence on my body, or my bedroom. Needless to say, the bat had to go. So I grab Dylan and do what any self respecting girl would do... get a man to help me. Since Eric is in New York, I go to my brother. Funny side note: my brother is also named Eric. It can get confusing.
Anyway, he goes down and bangs around a bit, checks behind the curtains, in the closet, etc. No bat. Great. I know it didn't go outside so it is still in the basement somewhere. Not. Awesome. Eric gives me instructions: Step #1 If you see the bat, quickly shut the door to the rest of the basement to trap him in. Lets stop and think about this one for a second. I am supposed to trap myself and my newborn baby in with a bat that could or could not have rabies. I'm not so sure of this plan from the get go. Step #2. Go to the outside door and prop it open so hopefully it will hear the bugs outside and fly out. Again, not loving the plan. I have to go to the only other escape route and open the door and then get away from the door before the bat flies into my face. Great plan. I understand how this should work, but I'm still not really excited about the trap it in the room part. Step #3. Use this kiddy butterfly net to catch it if you can. Yeah, that is NOT going to happen. I have kept the net though and it has come in handy. So that is the plan. A very big part of me was hoping that the bat found a different way out and I wouldn't need to put the plan into action. That part of me was wrong. Very wrong.
A day or two later I was sitting watching TV holding Dylan. He had just fallen asleep and I was waiting for the next commercial break to put him in the crib. All of the sudden- swoosh, there goes the bat. Crap. I sat frozen for a second, but then remembered the plan. Pulling up my big girl panties, I shut the door. Step #1- check. Half way to step #2, the bat got way too close to my head and I panicked a little. I retreated back to the couch to lay Dylan down so I would have two hands to defend myself... at which point I grabbed the butterfly net. I low crawled to the door and somehow got the door open and then ran by the couch, grabbed Dylan, and sprinted up the steps. I get some props for not leaving Dylan behind and saving only myself right? Right?? Again, I got my brother to go down and bang around. No bat. I did leave the door open to go outside so I was hoping that it flew outside. A girl can hope. Fast forward another day or so. Again, on the couch, and out comes the bat. I quick shut the door, again, low crawl to the door and open it up. Grab the butterfly net, because everyone feels better with a weapon, and post up next to Dylan's crib. He was sleeping and I was willing to fight off a bat rather than wake him up to run upstairs. I saw the bat go outside. Commence victory dance. Seriously, I did a victory dance, then remembered the door was still open and I ran to shut it before the bat had a chance to come back in. Victory!!!!! Until about 20 minutes later when another bat, or the same one, started flying around again. I was stunned. I didn't act fast enough and it flew back out into the other side of the basement. That side is the "scary side" and I don't go over there so who knows what is living over there, but I won't be the one to go and check. I have since barricaded myself in once I do the "bat sweep". That brings me to tonight.
Sitting at the computer checking out what is new in the world... ok, so really I was shopping on Amazon, but that doesn't really matter. Out comes the bat. It is flying circles around the room, mainly over the bed in a Jaws circle pattern over my bed. I ran over to the door and trap us in. Step #1- check. Getting brave, I walk, bent over (to attempt to avoid getting hit by the erratic flight pattern of the bat. Half way there, it dive bombs me. I drop to the floor, and somehow supress the little girl shriek that is frozen in my chest. I should note that since this has started, I have done some research on bats. While the statistics say that only like 1% of bats carry rabies, if I were to be scratched or bitten, it is a really big deal to be treated because it is FATAL. By the time you develop symptoms it is to late for treatment. Scary, um, yeah. New Goal: don't get bitten or scratched while trying to get them out of the house. Easy Peazy. So now that I'm back to low crawling to the door- I realize I had forgotten to put on my big girl panties because I was freaked out and being a chicken. I rallied though and made it to the door, propped it open and retreated to Dylan's crib to protect him. The bat flew outside. This is now bat #2 that has gone outside. I have the doors closed now too so I am fairly certain that we are safe and eventually I will be able to fall asleep without jumping at every sound or light flicker- which seems to only happen when I blink... weird. Hopefully they are all now gone. Might be wishful thinking, but if another one comes out I know what to do- cause I wear the big girl briefs... trapped in a room with a bat requires a little more than just panties... either way, I have got this... unless it's when Eric is home, then I'm letting him deal with the flipping bats!!
Let me set the stage...
My brother and sister in law have been incredibly generous and have opened up their home to us while we go through a family situation. Ironically, their house is my parents old house- the house I grew up in... and outside are all the same bugs and critters that I grew up with as well. Mason and Cooper are in my old bedroom and Dylan, Eric, and I are in the (finished part) of the basement. It's a pretty sweet set up. We even have our own cable box- WITH dvr... can't get much better than that! Anyway, so Eric has been commuting back and forth to New York on the weekends so during the week, I'm down here with just Dylan. He's not much of a protector just yet.
I very quickly realized that we were not alone. How did I know, well, a BAT started flying around our room. I also quickly realized that I am not as tough as I thought. I respect creatures- with the exception of crickets- they have a purpose and are living things and don't deserve to be killed for no reason. That respect comes to a screeching halt when they decide to take up residence on my body, or my bedroom. Needless to say, the bat had to go. So I grab Dylan and do what any self respecting girl would do... get a man to help me. Since Eric is in New York, I go to my brother. Funny side note: my brother is also named Eric. It can get confusing.
Anyway, he goes down and bangs around a bit, checks behind the curtains, in the closet, etc. No bat. Great. I know it didn't go outside so it is still in the basement somewhere. Not. Awesome. Eric gives me instructions: Step #1 If you see the bat, quickly shut the door to the rest of the basement to trap him in. Lets stop and think about this one for a second. I am supposed to trap myself and my newborn baby in with a bat that could or could not have rabies. I'm not so sure of this plan from the get go. Step #2. Go to the outside door and prop it open so hopefully it will hear the bugs outside and fly out. Again, not loving the plan. I have to go to the only other escape route and open the door and then get away from the door before the bat flies into my face. Great plan. I understand how this should work, but I'm still not really excited about the trap it in the room part. Step #3. Use this kiddy butterfly net to catch it if you can. Yeah, that is NOT going to happen. I have kept the net though and it has come in handy. So that is the plan. A very big part of me was hoping that the bat found a different way out and I wouldn't need to put the plan into action. That part of me was wrong. Very wrong.
A day or two later I was sitting watching TV holding Dylan. He had just fallen asleep and I was waiting for the next commercial break to put him in the crib. All of the sudden- swoosh, there goes the bat. Crap. I sat frozen for a second, but then remembered the plan. Pulling up my big girl panties, I shut the door. Step #1- check. Half way to step #2, the bat got way too close to my head and I panicked a little. I retreated back to the couch to lay Dylan down so I would have two hands to defend myself... at which point I grabbed the butterfly net. I low crawled to the door and somehow got the door open and then ran by the couch, grabbed Dylan, and sprinted up the steps. I get some props for not leaving Dylan behind and saving only myself right? Right?? Again, I got my brother to go down and bang around. No bat. I did leave the door open to go outside so I was hoping that it flew outside. A girl can hope. Fast forward another day or so. Again, on the couch, and out comes the bat. I quick shut the door, again, low crawl to the door and open it up. Grab the butterfly net, because everyone feels better with a weapon, and post up next to Dylan's crib. He was sleeping and I was willing to fight off a bat rather than wake him up to run upstairs. I saw the bat go outside. Commence victory dance. Seriously, I did a victory dance, then remembered the door was still open and I ran to shut it before the bat had a chance to come back in. Victory!!!!! Until about 20 minutes later when another bat, or the same one, started flying around again. I was stunned. I didn't act fast enough and it flew back out into the other side of the basement. That side is the "scary side" and I don't go over there so who knows what is living over there, but I won't be the one to go and check. I have since barricaded myself in once I do the "bat sweep". That brings me to tonight.
Sitting at the computer checking out what is new in the world... ok, so really I was shopping on Amazon, but that doesn't really matter. Out comes the bat. It is flying circles around the room, mainly over the bed in a Jaws circle pattern over my bed. I ran over to the door and trap us in. Step #1- check. Getting brave, I walk, bent over (to attempt to avoid getting hit by the erratic flight pattern of the bat. Half way there, it dive bombs me. I drop to the floor, and somehow supress the little girl shriek that is frozen in my chest. I should note that since this has started, I have done some research on bats. While the statistics say that only like 1% of bats carry rabies, if I were to be scratched or bitten, it is a really big deal to be treated because it is FATAL. By the time you develop symptoms it is to late for treatment. Scary, um, yeah. New Goal: don't get bitten or scratched while trying to get them out of the house. Easy Peazy. So now that I'm back to low crawling to the door- I realize I had forgotten to put on my big girl panties because I was freaked out and being a chicken. I rallied though and made it to the door, propped it open and retreated to Dylan's crib to protect him. The bat flew outside. This is now bat #2 that has gone outside. I have the doors closed now too so I am fairly certain that we are safe and eventually I will be able to fall asleep without jumping at every sound or light flicker- which seems to only happen when I blink... weird. Hopefully they are all now gone. Might be wishful thinking, but if another one comes out I know what to do- cause I wear the big girl briefs... trapped in a room with a bat requires a little more than just panties... either way, I have got this... unless it's when Eric is home, then I'm letting him deal with the flipping bats!!
Sunday, May 12, 2013
"Mom, Where is our stuff going??!"
As I have mentioned a few thousand times, we are moving. I am 8 months pregnant, have two boys that are 3 1/2 and a 1 1/2 and a husband who works full time and just spent a week away (during "crunch time") at a school for work. On a scale of 1-10 my stress level is at about 12. This all has gone as best as it could, but it doesn't stop me from worrying, stressing, panicking, and stressing some more. Seriously, moving is no joke. Moving with kids though is a total game changer. They have feelings, fears, and serious questions that need to be satisfied, explained, and reassured. Just because they are little doesn't mean that they are completely oblivious to what is going on around them. The are very observant. Most of the time, a little too observant... which requires some creative explanations depending on the circumstance. I am convinced that after my answers to many endless "why's" and different situations that I've had to explain, my kids are going to be like Adam Sandler in "The Waterboy"... "But my Momma said..." I may take a few creative liberties with facts once in a while. Oops.
That brings me to our explanation to Mason as to where our, and more importantly, his stuff was going. He was starting to get upset/nervous because he thought he would never see it again and someone was, essentially, stealing it. Oh how the mind of a 3 yr old works. We saw this coming so we tried to think of the best way to explain it ahead of time so he wouldn't have a total melt down as the guys were carrying boxes out the door. We came up with the following:
"Optimus Prime will be coming to get our stuff. Him and the other Transformers will protect it until they bring it to our new house in Staten Island. You can talk to him, but because he will be in his "truck" form and there will be too many people around, he probably won't answer you."
Winner of parents of the year award, I know. It is one of his favorite cartoons, he knows who Optimus Prime is, he just got it, and any fear about our stuff being gone forever disappeared. Boom! Genius. Have to give credit to the hubs for this one... totally his idea.
The morning of the pick up it dawned on us "What if the truck is totally lame and looks nothing like Optimus Prime!!" Oh crap. There goes our whole idea and Mason is going to lose it. This is what Optimus Prime (according to the internet) is supposed to look like as a tractor trailer.
We started to panic a little and back pedal on the Optimus Prime explanation with " He might be in a disguise so that no one recognizes him so it is easier to protect our stuff." "He doesn't want the Deceptacons to know what his mission is so he might not look like what you expect" Surprisingly, he totally bought it. Crisis adverted.
Then the truck pulled up and looked like this...
Ok, so it doesn't look exactly the same, but it wasn't that bad and Mason continued to believe that it was Optimus Prime. Whew! I even caught him telling his friend that Optimus Prime was there to pick up our stuff. It was pretty funny. Since the pick up, Mason has asked a couple of times where Optimus Prime is and we tell him- guarding our stuff. That seems to be enough to satisfy his curiosity.
We have now survived the yard sale, the packing, the pick up, and we only have 3 more days of living in an empty house. Only things left are packing up the cars and kids for a 3-4 day drive to South Jersey from Southern Mississippi (current route still undecided), a 2 month stay at the "Hendrickson Compound", have a new baby, and another little move to Staten Island. Like my very wise 5 year old nephew Wyatt says.. "Easy Peezy, Lemon Squeezy" We got this... I hope.
That brings me to our explanation to Mason as to where our, and more importantly, his stuff was going. He was starting to get upset/nervous because he thought he would never see it again and someone was, essentially, stealing it. Oh how the mind of a 3 yr old works. We saw this coming so we tried to think of the best way to explain it ahead of time so he wouldn't have a total melt down as the guys were carrying boxes out the door. We came up with the following:
"Optimus Prime will be coming to get our stuff. Him and the other Transformers will protect it until they bring it to our new house in Staten Island. You can talk to him, but because he will be in his "truck" form and there will be too many people around, he probably won't answer you."
Winner of parents of the year award, I know. It is one of his favorite cartoons, he knows who Optimus Prime is, he just got it, and any fear about our stuff being gone forever disappeared. Boom! Genius. Have to give credit to the hubs for this one... totally his idea.
The morning of the pick up it dawned on us "What if the truck is totally lame and looks nothing like Optimus Prime!!" Oh crap. There goes our whole idea and Mason is going to lose it. This is what Optimus Prime (according to the internet) is supposed to look like as a tractor trailer.
Then the truck pulled up and looked like this...
Ok, so it doesn't look exactly the same, but it wasn't that bad and Mason continued to believe that it was Optimus Prime. Whew! I even caught him telling his friend that Optimus Prime was there to pick up our stuff. It was pretty funny. Since the pick up, Mason has asked a couple of times where Optimus Prime is and we tell him- guarding our stuff. That seems to be enough to satisfy his curiosity.
We have now survived the yard sale, the packing, the pick up, and we only have 3 more days of living in an empty house. Only things left are packing up the cars and kids for a 3-4 day drive to South Jersey from Southern Mississippi (current route still undecided), a 2 month stay at the "Hendrickson Compound", have a new baby, and another little move to Staten Island. Like my very wise 5 year old nephew Wyatt says.. "Easy Peezy, Lemon Squeezy" We got this... I hope.
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