New Year?

Where the hell is the time going? I feel like I am going to wake up one of these days complaining about my hip replacement and rushing the fridge for my Ensure fix. I don’t remember a time in my life when the years went by so fast. In high school it felt like it would never end (in a good and bad way). I think that having kids is a lot like pressing the fast forward button on the remote controlling the movie of life. I spend so much time going from one phase or one first to the next that before I know it my oldest is 7 months away from entering the school system and my youngest isn’t far behind. Where did it all go?
I think it is the constant suspension you live in as a parent. Watching these people I made grow and thrive while fighting against the person they have made me. I have struggled since Remy’s birth with losing my self in the boys and I worry that I have taken for granted the years up until now. I have memories of them as babies but it all feels so rushed. Should I have appreciated more? Should I have worried less about who I was supposed to be after them? Should I have just stopped and enjoyed the sweet smell and stumbling steps along the way?

With this year I am realizing that I struggle less with the stay at home mom I chose to become. Seeing how secure, healthy, smart, and happy my boys are is slowly showing me that my decision to give up the career I worked so hard for was not wasted. I went into teaching to make a difference and found out quickly that with the current climate that was impossible. After staying home with my kids these past 4 years I am realizing that the difference I wanted to make with everyone else’s kids is being made right here in my own home. Everything I wanted to offer strangers I am here to give my own children. In college I always said if I reached just one child it would make it all worth while but, now I am reaching two in a more thorough way than I could have ever achieved in the school system.

My boys have made dreams come true I held long before they were even an idea in my head. I have spent too long worrying about all having them took from me. I should have spent it seeing all they had given me. So what if society defines your self worth based on how much you make and what you achieve. I am achieving more than my past station allowed. Someday they will need me less (if at all) and then I can find out who I was supposed to be but for now, starting with this new year, I am going to enjoy just who I am. A stay at home mom to Lash and Remy. Two little people who make the years go faster but also make them much more rewarding.

Time or circumstances may creep in like a thief and take the ability to make Lash, Remy, and Dave my sole focus. So, since you can’t get it back, from this year forward I will no longer squander this gift of time Dave has worked so hard to give to us. Life isn’t passing me by, it is escorting me into a very bright future.



Happy New Year to anyone still reading. Let’s all remember to love ourselves and live up to our own expectations and forget about those others place on us. You are the only one you have to impress.

Bedtime Lockdown

I am about to share with you a part of our bedtime routine which makes some mothers cringe. Now, now, don't let your mind wander because I do not have any cages laying around the house or a Tuff Shed converted into a toddler prison in the backyard. What I do is much more humane and in my experience has been suggested by experts. I lock my children's doors from the outside when they go to sleep at night. That's right, after 730 Lash and Remy lose their household privileges and are forced to stay in their rooms to do the unthinkable. SLEEP.

After you get over the original shock of hearing a mother say she locks her children's doors you may start to wonder about the possible fire hazard. Fear not good people. It's not like I have a padlock on the doors or several chain locks that would be impossible to slide in an emergency. No, we simply turned their knob locks around so the little locking mechanism faces into the hallway. In case of fire or unwanted intruder all we have to do is turn the little thingy and the boys are free!!! I have also discussed this around my firefighter brother in law and he didn't seem to disagree with it and usually he'll speak up about safety no matter what (like when we were installing our car seats without having them checked) so I took his silence as his blessing.

Now that the fire concern is out of the way and you have not decided to stop following the blog of such an evil and sadistic mother allow me to explain why I added locks to our night time routine and what information later vindicated my decision.

If you read my blog back in February you might know that my husband and I went to New Orleans for our annual 7 day kid less vacation. During our break from parenting duties my husband's mom kindly came to Vegas and watched my little dudes. She does a great job and my boys get to stay in their home while we are away allowing them some shred of normalcy without their lifeline, me. Upon our return home all seemed well until I went to bed that night. Around 10 or 11 I woke up suddenly to see a tiny little shadow scurrying around the hallway. This had never happened before because my children have been great sleepers since they were 4 months old. They had both been moved into toddler beds months prior and had never broken the golden rule of "stay". Though I knew the shadow was one of my toddlers it freaked me the fuck out. It was like one of those horror movies where a doll has come alive and is creeping around your house giggling wickedly. I got up and found my oldest Lash in the hallway. He informed me he was on his way to Remy's room for some play time. I sleepily admonished him and put him back in bed threatening bodily harm should he get up again. Though he went back to sleep that night every night after that one or both boys would get up throughout the night. I was perplexed to say the least (and tired as I hadn't had to night wakings since they breast fed).

After like 3 days of that nonsense I interrogated my father who lived with us at the time and he explained that it was something that started on day 2 of us being gone and that he had been the one to constantly put them back to bed because my mother in law is a hard sleeper. He also explained that she didn't address the situation thinking they would sleep sooner or later. She also thought they would sleep in the next day to make up for any lost sleep (which they never did because no matter what time they go to sleep or how many hours they lose at night they are up at the ass crack of dawn). I was worried because though we have a gate at the top of our stairs, my boys being the monkeys that they are, have often tried to climb the gate which leads to a straight drop down the stairs. I pictured being woken up to a broken and crying 2 year old laying lifeless on the stairs in the middle of the night. Not a picture to have in your head before bed at night.



The drop from our gate at the top of our stairs


I discussed the issue with Dave and the solution we came up with to keep Lash and Remy safe from themselves as well as preserve my much needed sleep (you haven't seen a bitch until you've seen me working off of 4 hours of sleep) was to turn their knobs around and lock them in. I know you've moved from fire terror to concern about the mental health of my kids. What would locking them in at night do to their psyche? Would they feel unloved like a dog left at the pound to rot? The answers are they're fine and no. On the first night of "Lock Down: Houston House" I explained to both boys that we would be locking their doors because it wasn't safe for them to wonder the house at night. I let them know that I had monitors for their rooms and would be able to hear them if they needed me but they needed to go to sleep and stay in their bed (or room at least) until morning. They were wary at first but have become totally used to it. Lash locks his door that leads to his Jack and Jill bathroom (a bathroom that goes through to the bedroom next to his). I placed a little potty in his room so he could relieve himself at night if he needs to, so no he isn't being denied bathroom privileges. This has worked well and though the boys still get up when they are first put to bed, they are safe and end up in bed because it is the only option after they have played for a while.

About the information that vindicated this decision. It did not come from those around me because though none of my friends judged me, none of them agreed with me either and all of them admitted they could "never" do that. I was actually vindicated by a professional (all be it one I watched on TV but a pro none the less). I was watching reruns of that show Raising Sextuplets with the sweet blonde, her anger management dropout husband, and their 6 toddlers one day when I came across an episode dealing with getting the sextuplets to stay in their rooms at night. The producers of the show brought in a sleep expert from Parenting magazine who told blondie and her agro boy to do exactly what I had already done. She explained that when children are babies their crib is their safe place at night but once they graduate into a toddler bed their bedroom becomes their crib. She explained that you must safety proof it (which I have totally done in Lash and Remy's rooms) then lock the door so they are in their safe place. Over time they will learn to just go to sleep (which my boys re-learned after a few weeks). Up until that point I was pleased with my results but wondered if I was doing something wrong. Turns out I was doing something right. I was keeping my boys safe even though those around me felt it was a radical and maybe unacceptable idea. Thank god I am a maverick when it comes to motherhood and follow my instincts not magazines and other moms or I may have had that broken toddler thought become reality.

I don't foresee locking them in forever (though when they're 16 we may turn the joint into San Quentin) but for now it seems like more of a safety requirement. Lash can unlock the front door now and Remy isn't far behind on that skill so until they can fully understand the consequences of such actions as well as the importance of sleeping they will keep their locks. And I will keep my sanity.

What about you? Do you think locking them in is a negative thing which will damage them irreparably or have you gotten an idea from this post? What do you do to keep your little creepers in at night? 

I Curse Therefore I Reap II

Several months back I wrote a little post called I Curse Therefore I Reap about my oldest son's less than stellar word choices. When I wrote that post, I believe I wrote mostly about Lash and his occasionally wayward mouth, little did I know that Remy was the key to a shitload of hurt in the fowl language department. He is 3 going on 40. He is entertaining but inappropriate with his words. A few minutes ago he called me a "dumbass" because I told him it was time to go take a nap. He has mastered cursing so well he has ventured into the forbidden arena of creating his own curse words such as his favorite "jerk ass". Remy has gone so far as to brave calling me a bitch for which he was spanked and issued a timeout (in answer to the gasp of concern and disdain you just issued, yes I spanked my son's little white ass because no matter how funny he sounds saying a curse word or how unacceptable strong parenting has become, he IS NOT going to disrespect his queen and creator. Call CPS all you want but don't forget to include Remy's ill conceived portion of the incident in your report).

Lash has outgrown curse words, going from saying them sometimes to policing others for their offenses. Remy is a different beast all together. While Lash is mature and sweet, Remy is impulsive and often angry. When Lash can be reasoned with Remy will have none of your bullshit and will call it as such. While Lash used his limited curses in the context of conversation Remy uses his for anger and pure shock value. It amazes me how far apart 13 months can be when it comes to children. Having children so close it also amazes me how utterly different they really are. Though Lash went through a short period of trying out the nasty words Remy seems to relish them using them more often than Lash even knew how to. He will say a curse word to one of us then cackle like a witch from one of those contrived Disney movies we all grew up with. Our family videos are littered with happy times punctuated by Remy's little voice calling out "shit" or "God dammit" from somewhere off camera. Different though they are, we do love them equally and try hard not to compare the two because that isn't fair to them. Remy is artistic and Lash is analytical. They should never be exactly the same. Even when it comes to something as unacceptable as cussing.

I know the blame falls squarely on the shoulders of my husband and I. After writing my previous post we have learned nothing. I just feel lucky Remy hasn't picked up more choices in words during Dave's football season rants (we're 49er fans so you can imagine the language that ensues on Sundays from August on). My Monday and Tuesday commutes to daycare and preschool could make a nun blush sometimes. Somehow, some way, we are going to have to learn to better curb our enthusiasm for use of the "bad words" in order to provide a better example and therefore live up to the expectations we place on our children. That is the starting point, and until we make a change Remy's little bouts of tourettes will get no better.

Poor little dude, if we're his only hope he doesn't stand a chance. On the bright side, at least he's verbally prepared for his eminent time in the public school system.

What do you think? Am I a bad parent or is this all par for the course? Am I the only one with a potential trucker on her hands?

 

Day 3

Today is day 3 of Lash’s first week of preschool and I have to tell you I have felt emotions I am not used to when it comes to my kids. I mentioned a few posts ago about the new found sentimentality but along with that came insecurity, anxiety, and guilt. I had no idea what an emotional shit storm school would bring (and this is just preschool for one of my children). I have spent so much time looking forward to school as some type of escape and the path back to my freedom as a person that I didn’t know it would feel more like depression than liberation. Lash, the intelligent little adventurer that he is, was so excited on the first day. I dropped him off with the other sour faced children then proceeded to bust a tear or two in the front office on my way out (don’t worry, he was not within view of his blubbering mother). It’s not like I wasn’t happy, I was nervous for him and sad that such a huge part of my life is coming to an end. Though he only goes 3 days a week I know this is just the beginning of chaotic days and activities without mommy. Since the boys turned 2 and 3 it has been so overwhelming that I almost couldn’t deal and just wished for more me time and to be doing something MORE with my life. Watching that little dude leave me for the day snapped something and made me realize I have been doing something MORE.

As people we are so programmed to believe that only high paying respectable jobs are honorable accomplishments. Don’t get me wrong, these are important and have helped our society to stave off  the upcoming entitlement generation. It makes people strive and work but, what happens when you step out of the race to raise a family? For me, the first year was fun and being that I was pregnant with Remy during  most of Lash’s first year it was also a blessing. As the years have worn on, I have started to feel brain dead and worthless. Like I wasn’t giving back and I was losing myself in the monotony of child rearing. I watched my mother go through the same thing at a young age and I finally understood why she tried so hard to get out there and reclaim herself.

Watching my oldest son go to school was rough but it was last night I had my Aha! moment. I realized that my self worth is still intact because I am creating PEOPLE. I have been blessed with the ability to be here day in and day out for the formative years of my children’s life. I have been able to educate and show them things that working full time may not have allowed (don’t get yo panties in a bunch working moms, we’re all doing well in our own damn ways). Though I haven’t brought home a paycheck in almost 4 years I have done a job most would not enjoy. I have done it well too. By no means am I done, it’s only preschool after all, but I am shaking off that feeling of uselessness that was starting to swallow me. As I watch my son take on school like it’s nothing I can see what being home has done for me and my family. As their days become filled and mine empty I do hope to do something part time (what that may be is a topic all it’s own) but instead of wishing to be doing something more I now hope to just be able to do what I have been doing. I am fine with being a SAHM and I’m not going to be hatin on it anymore.

It’s only the 3rd day and soon he won’t be so excited but on this 3rd day I feel good about my boys and myself as a mom. I fuckin rock the mom thing like it’s no one’s business and my paycheck is not only what I receive but also what I am giving back to the world. My boys will be happy well adjusted adults. I am doing the job of giving the world something it is starting to lack, motivated and decent humans (fingers crossed because no matter what parents do kids can go either way).  Preschool has awakened more than sentimentality, it has given me purpose and direction (as well as some much needed break time). You’re never too old to learn and at 32 the lessons just keep on coming.

How to Have Fun at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum

Several weeks ago my husband was online and saw that Madam Tussuad's Wax Museum at the Venetian Hotel had gained a wax figure of MMA fighter Chuck Liddell. Due to the fact that we are total MMA fans and we needed to get the boys out of the house before we tied them up in their rooms and ran away from home to entertain them, we decided to make a rare trip down to the Las Vegas strip (locals avoid that shit whenever possible) and check it out. My kids haven't been down there in a while and were amazed by all of the hotels. I have never seen two people so enthralled with a parking garage. We could have hung out in there and they would have been perfectly happy but, we wanted to see the museum and I think my youngest, Remy, had a hankering to feel the camaraderie of the roulette table (not, he prefers the lavish bars like mommy and daddy).

We walked through the casino which is a very slow process with two short legged, bobble head toddlers and made our way to the counter to buy tickets. Upon entering the first room it was overly crowded and everyone was taking pictures with the figures so you couldn't walk without being a fixture in some tourists family memory. We made our way to our first wax figure of the legendary Jenna Jamison (that's right, the porn star) and this was the photo we decided to take:

Now, though we thought this was hilarious many around us did not follow suit. The boys had no clue they were just happy to be out and taking a pic. Little did any of the tourists know we were just getting started and if they were going to be near us during their tour they were going to be displeased further. Next to Jenna's waxy form was Brittney Spears and Dave was up next:

After giggling like idiotic Middle School kids we decided to try and get ahead of the crowd and went to the next room. It was my turn to take a picture with golfer and known manwhore Tiger Woods.

If this looks awkward it's because I was very embarrassed and did not get my head as close to his crotch as we had planned (not a problem for the hookers he cheated with). Just so you can see we aren't completely immature with little to know respect for our children here's one of our normal pics with Chuck (the inspiration for this naughty trip).

Yes, the face I am making here is stupid but that's how I roll (plus I hate pictures of myself and feel awkward in front of a camera). The next room held every one's favorite "alleged" child molester Michael Jackson. Can you guess who posed with him? If you said our kids then you're right (no prizes though, who do I look like, Bob Barker?)

We had told the boys to stand with their hands in a stop pose which if you look closely Lash is doing. I think Remy has some of the "Jesus Juice" in his sippy there and that may be why he seems a little more receptive to Mr. Jackson's presence (like the lucky boys who visited Wonderland). One of the last few pictures exemplifies how quickly kids can learn and then emulate any behavior:

Here you see sweet Lash molesting Madonna of his own free will. All I told him was stand next to her but he, much like his father, is a leg man (maybe because he can't reach the boobs yet).

In our defense we had fun so fuck all the tourists who were too good for our crass behavior in front of our young offspring. We took some normal pictures but these were the fun ones and reveal our sense of humor and the classy people we truly are.  Besides, it was much more fun than the expensive and totally shitty Gondola ride we took afterward. The boys love boats and we were enjoying our time out so we thought we'd take the Gondola around the hotel, little did we know that shit does not go around the hotel but stays in the pond out front with a 5 minute period spent under a bridge sweating your balls off. Being a Las Vegan I welcome everyone to come here and spend money to boost our economy but I do not suggest this rip off of an activity. Spend your money at the bars, in the casinos, or at the restaurants. Do not take the gondola ride. It is expensive (they charged us full price for Lash even though he's only 3) and the ride itself does not justify the price. You'd be better off riding the double decker public transit buses up and down the strip for 7 bucks.

In the end, it was a fun day and we look forward to our next debaucherous family outing. Just wait till we hit Disney Land when the boys get a little older. The happiest place on earth has nothin on the Houstons from Las Vegas.

Do you do crazy shit like this with your family or am I the most inappropriate mother on Earth? When you see someone acting like we did do you express your distaste and utter disgust via facial expressions or do you mind your own business?

Preschool Perspective

Baby Lash Vegas Houston

My 4 year old is starting preschool next month and that fact is causing feelings in me I am not used to. I am not a very sentimental person. I am often the mom without the camera during a party or major life event. I am the mom who treats her kids like little adults causing other moms to describe me as “not very maternal”. Don’t get me wrong, I adore my boys, I am just not that sentimental about things. Until now. I think I’ve been caught up the last 4 years in the day to day care and survival of having two children that are only 13 months apart. Being with them 24/5 has left me a little burnt out on the whole “oh my gosh” of motherhood at times. Last week that all changed when I toured the first preschool for Lash and realized he was leaving me for the real world. I actually felt sick to my stomach during the tour and could not bring myself to register him that same day (Lash and I went back and took care of the registration together).

The school was great but the realization of how old my son really is hit me like the swine flu and I couldn’t deal. When did he get so big? Are the staff and other kids going to treat him the way he deserves? He has been in daycare 2 days a week since he was 1 but that is a small in home daycare which is more like family than daycare. School means many different people and kids, new influences and attitudes. It means others are going to help shape and create the mind I have had the major task of building over the last 4 years.
I think back to when he was small. When he learned to talk or walk and I wonder, did I appreciate that properly. Did I do enough with him in the short time I had him all to myself? I know I am not the only one who feels this because mothers go through it ever day but sentimentality is an unfamiliar feeling for me. In my mind the days when he is obsessed with me and me only are ending, he might like his teacher better. He may find a little girl with short chubby legs and pretty hair to take my place in his sweet little heart. Most of all, it’s knowing that he is not a baby any more. He is officially a little man out to find his way in the world (I know he’s not moving out or anything) and this fact distresses me a little. I never realized how attached to my sons I had become until Monday of last week when I realized this was going to change everything.

School is a good thing and I am totally excited for him. He is a smart outgoing little dude with much to offer any classroom but, up until this point, he has been all mine to mold. I guess I have been oblivious to the way the years have flown by and visiting and registering Lash in preschool was an official end to my whole head in the sand attitude. Though he will only be going 3 days a week this is a precursor to Kindergarten and then 1st grade. Preschool is just the beginning to a whole career of education away from me.

Because of this whole experience consider this sentimentally challenged mom schooled and reborn! I will have a camera on that first day of school and I will keep every preschool memento my husband will allow (he hates hoarding of any kind). I will appreciate the day alone preschool is giving me with my 3 year old Remy, and I will try to make those days as memorable as possible. I will remember that my boys are just kids and will therefore often act in a manner that shows no common sense or impulse control and I will try to readjust my expectations of them because of that fact.

My first course of action in my sentimental awakening will be to appreciate my kids and their firsts more. If my husband and I do this whole parenting thing right my boys will grow up to be secure and contributing men that do not live with us. Though, after the feelings that came with something as simple as preschool I can only imagine the temporary breakdown that will ensue the day I have to drop them off at college or help them move into their first apartment in another city.

                                                            

Happy Father's Day to The Man I Chose

My past Father’s Days have always been about my own father but, since I’ve had children that focus has shifted to the man I married. My husband Dave is one of the greatest men I’ve ever met. Not only is he a caring and attentive husband but he is an excellent dad. Dave loves our kids and shows it to them in so many wonderful ways it is as if he was meant to be a father. I saw this early on when I watched him with my stepchildren. Dave always makes time for them when they’re having a problem and he spends any time with them that he can get. When they were young he would drive 8 hours round trip on Fridays and Sundays just to have them for the weekend. The attachment his older children have to him is sweet and natural, cultivated through years of his being there and showing unconditional love. 

Dave’s relationship with our two young children has been equally amazing to watch. No matter what he has to do (his job is super demanding) he is always aware of how much time he’s spent with the boys. If he feels like he hasn’t been around enough he will come home and pick one or both boys up and take them to work with him for a while or he will set aside special time during his days off to do something fun with them. When he’s worn out on the weekends and just wants to relax he somehow finds the extra energy to play with the boys and make them breakfast. When we go on road trips (which we do often) he draws the boys the cutest little detailed maps with land marks they can easily identify so they have some understanding of where they are as we drive for hours and hours. Dave makes up little songs that include our boy’s names which he has sung to them since they were babies and which they now sing with him. As I mentioned earlier, every Saturday (sometimes Sunday) he gets up with the boys and makes them a huge egg breakfast allowing them to help even though cooking with a 2 and 3 year old is an exercise of insanity. Dave is always looking for new ways to give my boys experiences and memories whether it be staying in a cabin in the woods or spending as much of the summer as possible on our boat (we’re about to attempt camping soon which is not something I look forward to but Dave insists will be an integral piece of their childhood puzzle).

These are just some of the many ways my husband is a great father. I couldn’t have found a better man to marry and have a family with. I can honestly say he is a more hands on and active dad than my own. If there was a Father of the Year award he would get my vote hands down. I know that no matter what the next 15 years of my children’s life brings Dave will be right there helping and loving them all the way. His work ethic, emotional support, and excitement for the little things in life (like smores cooked over a fireplace blaze) is envious and will provide the best example of what it means to be a father and husband my boys could have. Because of  Dave's influence, my boys will be given the chance to grow up to be stable, self confident men. So, this Father’s Day, I am celebrating my husband, because in a world of fathers he is the rule not the exception.

I Love You Dave!!!! Thank you for our wonderful little family and your unwavering companionship. Here’s to all of the Father’s Days we will celebrate during our life together.

Dudes vs. Chicks; Parenting

I know this topic is not one of originality, but I have decided to blog about my personal take on it based on my experience with my own Mr. Wonderful. It has been said and written about before, men and women are different (duh). I could not agree more. We are different in many aspects, especially parenting. These differences often lead to strife in relations between the sexes because while men are relaxed and seem to inherently understand we all do things in different ways, women believe our way is right and men are unqualified to make their own decisions on how to perform the daily parenting tasks. So, for your amusement here’s some of the parenting differences in my home, Sabreena vs. Dave edition:

Feeding: I am anal about feeding times. My boys eat breakfast upon waking, lunch at noon, a snack after nap, and dinner by 530 (I let up on weekends occasionally). Snacks are not sweets and if they get any sugar it’s after dinner. My husband on the other hand does not subscribe to this philosophy. Breakfast is the same but lunch comes when he gets hungry or if he wants the boys to go take a nap. Snack can be a cookie and should he buy them candy it is immediately consumed with dinner as an after thought. Snacks themselves can be overly frequent under Daddy’s watch as well. Now, I don’t starve my boys, but I keep snacks to a minimum so they will eat their main meals. Dave will feed them snacks all the way up until dinner or lunch. Our ideas on feeding are very different and though I don’t agree I am just thankful he remembers to feed them and usually grateful to get a break from the responsibility.

Servicing the Beasts: For whatever reason though my boys are 2 and 3 I am still in that baby phase of getting them what they need right away (notice I said need not want, I’m not crazy). Should they require beverage service I will usually stop what I am doing to get it. The boys need something that is out of their reach? Mom will get it right away. Dad on the other hand, it could be days minutes before he takes care of it. If my husband is doing something he can drown them out until their little voices grate on my nerves and I end up doing the deed. Don’t get me wrong, he does not neglect them and will eventually fulfill the need, but he makes them wait longer than I would. I actually admire this quality as they are old enough now to wait a few extra minutes and they do need to start sharpening their patience skills. Dave’s like Super Hearing Loss Man and I am constantly jealous of his sound blocking powers.

Bedtime Business (i.e. Prelude to Happy Hour): Now this particular part of the day is almost never done by my husband. He has put the boys to bed maybe 4 times during their short lives so far. When I do bedtime we do “jammies, teeth, story, nigh night” (exact verbiage used in our home). The pajama tops and bottoms always match, I do the teeth brushing to ensure maximum cleaning, and after story they get covered completely with blankets. The few times el Dave has done this chore it has gone much differently. Pajama components rarely match (some don’t get put on at all), he will skip teeth, and his half ass blanket job leaves most limbs exposed. As I said, he rarely performs this part of the day so when he does I leave him to it, happy it’s not me.

Showering: We both shower with the boys most times. I am in charge of baths when we do them but to save me the time on the weekends my husband or I will take them in the shower with us. I wash the boys with their Johnson & Johnson no tears products faithfully. Dave, on the other hand, has been known to use Axe shower gel and occasionally no shampoo. Let me tell you, hair does not smell too good after a shampoo-less shower.

These are just a few examples of how differently things can go down in my home depending who is on duty. Most of the time we’re both on but as with any good team each player has their parts (I play majority of the parenting positions though). I don’t always agree with how my husband does things I am so glad he does them. I am thankful I found a man who not only loves and takes care of me but is also hands on with our walking genetic reproductions. I have sat back and let up on my expectations because he needs to be able to do things his own way in order to enjoy parenting on his terms. If I get in the way or demand he do things in a certain manner he will not have the interest in helping out that he does now. Sure, any man will do as they are told, but my man actually gets to enjoy caring for his children because I am not hovering over him all of the time reminding him of how wrong I think he is. He parents his way and I have mine. His way of parenting is different but it allows my boys to connect with him in their own personal way. We stick together on important things like discipline and rules but as for the day to day stuff we are different and that’s good for us and our kids. I watch too many women micromanage their men around their kids and in turn I see some of those men just going through the motions of care. They love their kids but aren’t getting to enjoy coming up with their own little daddy rituals. Some men aren’t allowed the freedom women have to stumble through parenthood and find your own way of doing things because they have mama hen clucking at them too much.

My point is, I have learned that if I let Dave put his own spin on the day he has fun with my boys and actually looks forward to his portion of the care. As long as the boys survive and are happy (and I get to shrug off some of the pressure) who gives a shit how it was done (except the teeth thing honey, that has to be done even if it’s half ass because the lack of that activity has the potential to cost us mad Benjamins later in life).

Word to My Mutha

My mother has been reading my blog recently and demanded suggested that I write an ode to her post. Seeing as mother’s day is Sunday and she gave me a bad ass birthday gift birth I graciously agreed. Plus, my mom is a really great lady. From her I learned what it really is to be a mother and woman. She always loved us and no matter what, stood by us. There was a rough time when she and my father divorced several years ago and my brother and I chose to alienate ourselves from her for a while. My mom could have gotten angry and bitter with us and though she occasionally handled our anger without the proper amount of understanding she hung in there and waited for us to have our emotions out (it took like 5 or 6 years, we be some grudge holding ninjas). When we finally decided to come back around, she held none of it against us and took the relationship right back to what it was before. Forgiveness is always guaranteed with her.

When I was young my mother stayed home with us until we were in school. She did attend college while being a SAHM but never let it get in the way of her duties to us. Watching her get her education later in life while trying to raise two toddlers showed me it is never too late to better yourself and no matter what happens in life you can preserver. My mom was not perfect but she was honest, kind, and educational. She used to take flack from my father about her need to allow us to explain our less than acceptable behaviors. When kids weren’t supposed to have a voice, she provided ears and expected us to put some reason behind our choices (my brother’s bullshit skills are excellent as a result).

As a teenager I went through a very rebellious bitch like period and my mother and I often kicked the shit out of each other argued. She was very controlling and always up in my business. I detested it and at times her. It wasn’t until I had my kids that I understood what the hell she was doing (cliché but true). I was actually lucky to have a mother who was so involved in my life because though I did my fare share of bad things and was far from perfect I had more to fear and someone to answer to unlike my friends with less involved parents. I was also armed with the knowledge and background to choose my sins wisely and work through bad periods without being damaged by them. This also came from my mother. She never hid any of her past from us and in knowing all of her screw ups and wrong turns we were able to understand what we were getting into most of the time (not always, like I said, informed not perfect).

Now that I am an adult I can go to my mother for anything. She usually takes my side, she doesn’t judge me, and she tries her best to help. We still have our issues (especially after long periods of time together or when she tells me something I don’t want to hear) but I completely appreciate her for who she is and all she has given me.

A more selfish and generic reason I am thankful for her is her awsome genetics. She looks great at 56 and I am positive her ass has another 10 good years which gives me hope for my physical future. Looking at her, I have a vision of me at 70 in my beach side condo located in a beautiful yet debaucherous retirement community dancing around to “Baby Where’d You Get That Body From” by the Black Eyed Peas.

All joking aside, I love you mom. This mother’s day my gift to you is thanks. Thank you for being my mom and now my friend. I haven’t always shown it but I appreciate you. If I am half the mother to my boys that you were to my brother and I then I will consider myself successful. This parenting shit isn’t easy but you took it and ran with it and for that I am eternally grateful. So, I would like to wish a Happy Mother’s Day to my mom and all of the bad ass moms out there. We’re all doing a very tough and sometimes thankless job to the best of our ability and though we don’t always feel it, we are appreciated. You go ladies!!!

My Impending Super Sweet 32nd Birthday

  Since I have had very little blog inspiration lately and 2 Cent Tuesdays did not catch on the way I’d hoped I have decided to post about a very big event happening this Saturday. My 32nd birthday!! In fact, this weekend will be completely about me. Having a birthday Saturday and Mother’s Day on Sunday makes for a very narcissistic weekend. Birthdays are one of the many times living in Las Vegas really pays off. The celebration activities are endless and this year my husband and I will be throwing down Vegas style. We will be issuing this throw down Sunday instead of my actual birthday on Saturday because Saturday night is reserved for UFC 113. Lyoto Machida and Mauricio ShoGun Rua will be having their rematch. If you saw the first fight you would understand the importance of putting off a birthday outing to watch the event live because Shogun was robbed the first time when the fighters allowed the outcome of the fight to be made by the less than knowledgeable judges. My husband, little ones, and I will be joined by a few friends and family members to watch the fights and have some cake while my husband and I reserve our energy for Sunday’s debauchery.
 
  Sunday night is our night on the town sans kids. My husband and I will begin the night by having dinner at Serendipity 3 located inside Caesar’s Palace. This is a new establishment I have wanted to try for a while now. I have read mixed reviews but as always I will decide for myself. Let’s hope it is good. Amazingly we got dinner reservations for 7pm even though Sunday is Mother’s Day and restaurants become over crowded family mosh pits every year. After our quiet dinner (and cocktails) we will be moving on to Planet Hollywood to catch Peepshow with Holly Madison (and more cocktails of course). If you haven’t been to Vegas or don’t know Holly Madison she has been in this stage show based on Little Bo Peep and Red Riding Hood for like a year now. It consists of a little less fairytale and more of a Vegas staple, bare breasted dancing showgirls. We have wanted to see it for a while and felt that my birthday was the perfect excuse. We purchased great seats right in front of the stage. My husband met Ms. Madison on a flight a few months ago and according to her if you sit in the front the lovely ladies come down and interact with you so we may get VIP access to those dancing breasts. I will let you know.
 
  Though my kids won't be joining us for Sunday night's outing, they are so sweetly excited because they now truly understand what a birthday is and cannot believe mama gets one too. My 3 year old, Lash, has a list of items he would like to purchase for me which includes a “choo choo train” and a “neck-a-lace”. Luckily my husband will be escorting my little minions out Saturday afternoon to shop for their offerings of mama worship. He is great at leading them to purchases more along the lines of a necklace than a choo choo train.

  I know normally age is supposed to freak us out and make us depressed but I gotta tell you, I am just not there yet (maybe because I’m still relatively young). However, this is the first year I have started to notice the physical signs of my age. Until about 4 months ago I had just completely ignored what age was doing to my face. I have lines in my forehead which have deepened over the years and the skin on my face has taken on a different texture. Even though I have just recently joined reality and noticed the signs of my slow physical demise, my mind still feels pretty young. Now I completely understand the sentiment that age is how you feel. If it’s true my ass is still 25. In yo face wrinkles!!!

  Aside from my new wrinkle reality I am excited to get older. The older I get the more I understand myself. I have gained a confidence that I never experienced when I was younger. To me, this self awareness is well worth the remnants of father time’s exuberant tango across my face. I am now declaring myself a MYLF (mother you’d like to f*c*). I plan to be hot and feel young well into my 60’s. Wrinkles, saggy bits, and all. But, we will just have to wait and see. All of this self indulgent aplomb aside, something tells me those pesky little midlife years may not be as kind and could potentially crush my current expectations. I highly doubt it though. That being said, here’s to me and my 32nd year on this planet.

What are your feelings about your aging process? Do you get depressed around birthday time or do you celebrate like you just won the lottery?

Theaters; A Brave New World

For about the last year and a half my husband has been itching to take our sons Lash (3 ½) and Remy (2 ½) to the movies. Based on the toddler regime which rules my house and my days I have cock blocked this idea to no end. The fact that my kids can barley sit through their 30 minute cartoons or any movie on DVD led me to believe movies at a theater were not in our immediate future and had resigned myself to the fact we would not be enjoying theater flicks as a family until the little dudes were well into high school. Because of this resignation no one was more surprised than said husband when, last night, I gave in and agreed to take them to see How to Train Your Dragon this afternoon. Now, being an ex teacher and therefore trained in the fine art of preparation, I took some time last night to show my little guys the movie trailer online as well as a picture of what the inside of a theatre looked like. Then, my husband and I explained theater conduct and expectations along with how the day would go leading up to the movie (if my 3 year old does not have a schedule laid out prior to a promised event he will spend the day asking when we are leaving so advising “after nap” or “before lunch” buys us some peace prior to any outing).
This afternoon after a less than sufficient nap, a reiteration of conduct/expectations, and the required potty break we were off to the Orleans hotel and casino to take in our 2:40 matinee. We were all excited, even yours truly who had cringed at the mere thought of such an adventure in recent weeks. As my husband drove he expressed his excitement at the prospect of spending several of the upcoming 115 degree Las Vegas Saturdays in a movie theater with our precious offspring.

We arrived 10 minutes before the movie and got in line to purchase our tickets. That’s when Remy spotted the Kid Zone (a place for parents to drop the kids while they watch a movie alone) and here is his reaction to being told we were taking in a movie instead of playing there:

Lash on the other hand could care less about Kid Zone and wanted to get his movie on.

After purchasing tickets and calming Remy we got popcorn, soda, and each child got to pick a candy. Then we rushed to the theater (in the farthest reaches of the place) and sat in our seats. I exhaled a sigh of relief when I looked back into the theater and saw it was mostly empty. That meant few people to annoy should anyone’s attitude go downhill (present company included). Here are my cuties watching the previews:

I am now going to do something amazing and admit I was totally wrong. Our toddlers are badass. We made it through the whole thing which I had thought was impossible. Lash peed 4 times and both boys ate half a box of Junior Mints each. Toward the end of the film they had to stand and watch but we were in our own row so this was fine and at 2 and 3 years old completely expected. The movie itself was good but the fact they can now go to movies is even better. Las Vegas in the summer does not make for an enjoyable park experience unless you like heat exhaustion and 3rd degree slide burns.

I think for the next movie we’ll aim for a longer nap and less candy because Remy had a fit filled come down and Lash became completely deaf to any directions upon returning home. Being tired wasn’t a total loss though because my husband made a great dinner and the boys went to bed early allowing us to watch Strikeforce on CBS in peace (hopefully Hendo wins to celebrate his migration from UFC). This mom thing isn’t so hard. After patronizing a movie successfully I think I’m ready to conquer my fear and loathing of the kiddie mosh pit they call Chuck E Cheese. Or maybe we’ll just see another movie.

Hats Off to Single Parents

I would suck at single motherhood. I am in total awe of the women and men that do this tough and sometimes lonely job. My husband left yesterday for his 5 day sausage fest that he and his buddies call a fishing tournament in Mexico and I am already miserable. Though he doesn't do much while he is here the fact is, he is here. I have someone to talk to that knows and loves my boys like I do. When he gets home from work he deflects some of their attention from me so I can breath a little. Sometimes he even comes home midday and takes the little guys off my hands for an hour of peace. He cooks for us almost every night and his presence allows me to go to the bathroom by myself during evenings and weekends. No matter what my day is like, when we crawl into bed at the end of the day and he cuddles me everything is okay. I find comfort and companionship in my husband in a way I do not have with anyone else. I can't imagine raising my boys without him. I know it can be done but even just these few days without him I am finding it lonely and hard. Plus, if he weren't around I would have to work on top of caring for my little terrors alone so I imagine I would be totally drained. Never mind that I would sooner or later have to attempt dating which would be a whole issue unto itself for me.

A friend of ours is a single mom and I give her mad props. Raising kids is a tough job but to do it on your own is like triple duty. I am in no way saying a single parent doesn't have a good quality of life I am just saying I admire how hard it must be at times. Sometimes (okay pretty much all of the time) I take my husband for granted and focus more on what he isn't doing. When he is gone I get clarity on all he does do and it makes me appreciate my luck in finding and having him. I am so proud of all of the single parents out there. You are brave souls and you often don't get the recognition and break you deserve. I guess I'm just feeling lonely but sitting here with 2 crazy toddlers with no prospect of my husband's return until Tuesday got me thinking. I wouldn't like single parenthood and totally look up to all of those people that do it happily and successfully. My hat is off to all of you. You f-ing rock!!!

Hell Yeah, It's Time to Pottay!!!

You guessed it; I’ve got a toilet trainer in the hizzy. Just when I thought I was going to be changing diapers indefinitely my 3 ½ year old made the decision to start using the bathroom like a normal human being. I have been trying to get this kid to use the toilet instead of the more convenient pants option for the last year with no advancement until last week. Last Wednesday we got up and as usual I offered him the toilet but this time he willingly agreed. After, I offered underwear which he politely accepted as if I was offering the bread basket at dinner. Since that wonderful day he has only had 4 accidents. That little dude was totally playing me! Acting like he couldn’t use the damn toilet when the whole time he just didn’t want to until he was the one calling the shots. This kid has taught me and the hubs about parenting. He makes pretty much all of the decisions for his own advancements (except for bottle intervention, that was all me). He made the decision to give up his pacifier, he decided when he was going to sleep in a toddler bed, and he will soon run the world I am sure. I am very proud of him and he is totally getting a Toys R Us shopping spree tomorrow courtesy of the hubs.

Did I mention that my son is also a money grubbing whore? I tried stickers and candy to no avail. Then, while I was relaxin and partying in New Orleans my mother in law found out the kid loves money. Quarters, nickels, dimes you name it he will do anything to get some. This is what I used during toilet boot camp. Yeah, I paid my kid to shit. He doesn’t need the money now because he just goes, but that first week cost me like 20 bucks. Well worth it to only change one person’s ass in the house (my 2 year old still needs to train but I am far too focused on the on the oldest right now and don’t want to short change either kid).

This post is my up yours to the “experts” who write books and hold seminars that create panic and competition in the mommy world. I became so focused on what my kid should be doing according to other kids and books that I didn’t realize his version of “ready” was totally different from everyone else’s. “They” define ready as dry diapers and mild interest in the toilet but “they” have not met my power hungry toddler. He defines ready as “I tell you when it’s time bitch”. I am proud of my little potty pioneer. Not just that he is going to the bathroom but that he has an independent spirit and can make intelligent decisions for himself. I hope this carries through to the years when he will be offered substances and activities which are illegal and harmful. I would much rather he intelligently pick and choose his drugs and felonies than just go along with the latest high.

Lash sportin his boxer briefs

How did your kid toilet train? Was it early or late (whatever that means)?

Mommy Fullfillment, The Illusive Beast

A recent convo with my sister-in-law got me thinking. We were discussing having kids and getting a life, two things that don’t always coincide peacefully. We are both SAHMs and she is prego with her second child. Her oldest is going to be 5 in June. We were talking about how each kid means 5 years out of rotation. I got lucky with mine being so close I only have 5 years with probation for good behavior coming very soon (school age) but due to her kid’s gap she has added another 5 years to her sentence (provided all goes well with her husband and his job or she’ll have to hightail it back to the drive thru). Anyway, we were discussing what you do after they get to school and whether a 3rd child is needed. I mentioned how having my bachelor’s degree makes me feel as if I have accomplished something for myself with all I have given up for my little dudes. I told her I felt it was important to achieve something outside of your kids (which she hasn’t done yet) at which point the discussion went south. We don’t argue but we can get very defensive and passively aggressive during any discussion. She began informing me that she doesn’t need “paperwork” (evidently that was a name for my degree) to feel good, her kids are her accomplishment. I really like my sister in law and she is a good mom but I can’t believe she doesn’t understand what that will do later to her and her kids if they are all she does in this life. I asked her what she will do when they are 16 and want to have nothing to do with anything about her except her wallet. She said she didn’t know, have fun. I am not one to tell people what to do but I think this move toward 50’s motherhood is unhealthy. I personally think it is unreasonable to expect that your children will be that fulfilling. I love mine and want nothing more than to raise them to be decent un-imprisoned citizens but I can’t imagine that being ALL I do. I have given up a lot for them so far. My career, my freedom, my sleep. I don’t mind the arrangement (no matter how bitter I occasionally come off) but I have to know that is a temporary condition and in some mothering circles this feeling is frowned upon. As my sister in law said, I am just not as maternal as most (I am very maternal, hence the word being in my blog title). I don’t define “maternal” as the complete surrender of everything that is me. I define maternal as the fact I know what my kids need without words being spoken. Or how when they get hurt a hug and kiss from me seems to heal it immediately. I guess I got going on this because I am seeing it throughout the mommy culture. Working moms are judged for not being completely about their kids and SAHMs are expected to want nothing more than to take care of their kids. It’s okay to want something for yourself. I feel that my drive to do more while caring for my boys makes me a better mother. In making myself happy when they need me less I will be creating a happy environment for my whole family. I won’t be following my kids everywhere afraid to let them fail because their failure equals my failure. I will also be showing them that you don’t choose just one destiny in life; you choose different ones based on the needs of the moment. My conversation with my sister in law ended with me saying I didn’t mean we all need to go to school, a hobby or outside interest is more than enough which she agreed with so we found common ground. Sure, I was disturbed by the maternal comment but I know she didn’t mean it as an insult, she felt attacked by my degree and that is normal. I think that as moms we should all just agree to disagree the way my sister in law and I happily do from time to time. Then we are welcome to go on messing up our own children in our own special way. It may be said that it takes a village to raise a child but I am officially telling the village to suck it (unless of course my child is drowning or in some other form of danger then please, everyone, dive right in).

How Thomas the Tank Engine Almost Ruined Christmas

My 2 year old is OBSESSED with Thomas. It's like that train is a little crack rock and my son needs his fix. I took my boys Christmas shopping for their dad and to buy some little outfits to wear at their grandparent's house for Christmas dinner. As I am trying to find something in the sorry excuse the stores call a "Toddler Boys"aisle my little Remy sees toys (because stores like TJ Maxx and Marshalls are out to sabotage a mother's day by placing toys next to kid's clothes while their employees stare at you like YOUR fault you can't control your offspring) and immediately starts to scream "Thomas!!!!" at me and cry loudly. I try to tell him sweetly that A) Santa is going to bring Thomas if he is "nice" B) there aren't any Thomas toys there right now C) stop crying right now or you will have a time out in the car. None of these worked as he couldn't hear me over his screams. On top of that, his unruly behavior activated my 3 year old who began climbing out of the cart and screaming "I want to walk!". So now I have a chorus of "Thomas, waaaaa!!" and "Mama I want to walk!!!" as other shoppers stare at me like I have shit sprayed all over me. I did the one thing Dr. Spock and any other child "expert" would totally disapprove of, I bribed those two little people right there in the store. I offered candy in exchange for a more peaceful shopping trip. It worked. And my boys looked like this in their new shirts on Christmas day:

Lash & Remy

Thomas' path of destruction did not however end there. My husband, being the preemptive dude that he is took the boys shopping after their nap on Christmas Eve. He needed to get me a few things and wanted the boys to pick gifts for me. With sweet pictures of our little guys carefully selecting gifts of love for their mama dancing in his head my husband headed out into the war zone that was Christmas Eve shopping. Evidently the minute he hit Victoria's Secret Remy started in with his Thomas rampage. He yells his crack rock's name while crying and screaming. He didn't give a damn that Thomas the Tank Engine didn't even exist at Victoria's Secret. Surrounded by underwear, bras, and pajamas my baby wanted his Thomas. My husband high tailed it out of there because the sales girls were being rude in the first place and my son's tantrum was not helping the situation. His next stop was the Juicy Couture store where he hoped all would be better (so brave and optimistic). As my husband was shopping with his favorite salesperson my youngest started with the Thomas crap. A nice sales girl offered him a sticker in an attempt to be helpful (which is more than I can say for those bitches at Victoria's Secret). Evidently this kindness just set his tantrum into overdrive and he proceeded to obliterate a display with his foot. I am glad I was not there or I would have acted like I didn't know the child using the nice Juicy display as a soccer ball. Thankfully this ill fated shopping trip ended with some great gifts for me but has left a sour taste in my husband's mouth for shopping solo with Remy.

Thomas tragedies aside, Christmas turned out great. We had a great morning opening gifts:

We spent the evening with my husband's family which was wonderful and fun:

(Good times but Remy and I were exhausted by the end of the night)

I fully enjoyed my holiday but would like to take that little train and run it over in the street with my Yukon. I fear though that if I tried this my son would have withdrawls and have to enter rehab at the tender age of 2 which probably wouldn't look good. Maybe I will get my revenge in a few years if he outgrows this.

I Curse Therefore I Reap

As those of you with kids understand the first year is spent in blissful freedom. You can talk about whatever you want however you want because the baby doesn't know the damn difference. Then out of nowhere you have a 3 year old saying "God dammit" when he crashes his bike, calling one of his fellow prisoners at daycare an asshole, or telling you "I always say fuck mama". He perks up when you discuss toys or going out somewhere. To put it simply, you have a mini eavesdropper in your midst and you have to adjust. This seems to happen faster than your mouth and mind are ready for. I try spelling things I don't want my kids to hear to my husband but he's a little slow on the uptake and I end up attempting to whisper it. But 3 year old radar ears picks that up and is instantly all up in the biz. Don't get me wrong, I love that he has learned to understand and process his world. Hell, I'm kinda proud he uses curse words in perfect context (pat on the back for teaching him shit can be used as an exclamation and not just to label what comes out of his ass). The problem is it is socially unacceptable for my 2 year old to exclaim "Holy shit" when the barbeque is on fire no matter how appropriate it is for the situation. I have begun to practice word substitution. My 3 year old has caught on and will assist. He came up with saying "doughnut" for dammit. So now when I curse he calls me on it by saying "Mama don't say shit" or whichever offensive word I've chosen (I've tried to tell him to chastise me by saying we don't say bad words but he insists on repeating whatever word I've used) and I quickly try to come up with a substitute that sounds like the word. Having trouble with quick thinking however I have used "omit" for shit and that didn't quite work. I don't understand why this transition has been difficult, I was a teacher and refrained from cursing in front of my students all year. It's probably because this is my home so my comfort level increases my verbal offenses. Either way I have a couple of mini sailors on my hands and the deprogramming seems to go much slower than the original programming, I'm working at it diligently though. Now to just figure out how to keep up on the substitutions during my husband's Sunday football games.

My Husband's Toy Aversion

If you have children you have "them". Toys. Maybe they're in your living room because your kids are too small to play away from you. Maybe you're lucky enough to have a playroom dedicated to them even though they find they're way out of that room and into areas of your house you'd never think to look for them. Either way, once we become parents toys become a necessary evil that must be dealt with. My kids have a way of emptying their toy shelves at an exponential rate that leaves me completely exhausted. Occasionally I have them help clean up but if you've ever cleaned with a 2 and 3 year old you know it can be like pulling your hair out strand by strand and if you want it done you'll do it yourself most of the time (screw the theory about responsibility, when they become more able I'll be more than happy to share the burden). Anyhow, most days the living room looks like a tornado has hit and FEMA is still 3 days out. This is where my husband comes in. He, like FEMA, is not proactive. He'll watch me haul the boys upstairs with the last strains of energy in my body to be used for a bath (every other night), story, teeth brushing complete with spitting, and a loving tuck in. During this time he will commence sitting on the couch or at the computer. When I return to the toy horror I, being a chick, will say nothing and begin picking up those stupid toys making sure to shoot him poignant looks which I hope convey disdain, anger, annoyance, desperation, etc. His reaction to those looks is to say "You should have told me. I would have picked up the toys." I should have to ask? I would assume that after watching me wrangle the boys upstairs nightly and seeing firsthand on weekends how hard two toddlers can be all day he would just pick up the toys some nights to be helpful. Would it kill him 2 or 3 nights a week (without being asked) to clean up toys while I put the kids to bed. That's right, I said 2 or 3 nights because I'm cool like that. I don't expect it every night. He works too hard all day to have toys as a nightly expectation and frankly some nights I don't mind doing toy detail myself. I am home all day so I see the majority of the housework as my job (bite me feminists, it's only fair). My husband does dishes once in a while and I appreciate that very much but I don't expect nor do I want him to have to dust, mop, scrub toilets, vacuum, or complete any of the other daily household duties which keep our home on that fine line between pigsty and livable space. My few expectations are that he continue to do dishes once in a while and take it upon himself a few times a week to pick up the living room our spawn has redecorated in Toys R Us chic.
So baby, tonight while I'm catching our 2 year old's spit with my eyelashes and explaining EVERY picture of the story to our 3 year old, won't you be a dear and put the toys away. At the very least, can you kick them all into a pile near the toy bins to give me a head start?

Baby Want a Prozac?

This is a question my husband and I ask my youngest son Remy many times a day. He doesn't really need Prozac, but he is one angry and disillusioned little dude. He screams at his toys should they have the audacity to fall apart or move the wrong way. He smacks his brother for breathing and yells at me should I suggest cleaning up, eating, moving, etc. Forget getting out the camera, then he gets really pissed leaving most of our pictures to look like this:

That's him on the left (could his older brother Lash be any sweeter?). This is the same look he had when dressed in a Santa suit for Christmas last year and at the zoo recently. I don't get it. What crawled up his ass at 2 years old? He doesn't have to wipe said ass, drive in traffic, clean the house, pay the bills, or anything else that results in true stress but there he is, always pissed. If you make the mistake of picking him up and trying to love the anger out of him you're chancing a full on beat down. My oldest has learned this the hard way by bearing the brunt of a flying toy and/or fist after trying to cheer the little grouch up. Maybe Remy's had it with the health care debate or is disappointed his 2 years of life didn't turn out the way he planned. Whatever it is that has got his Huggies in a twist I can only hope this doesn't get worse with age. I don't think the school system wants a 5 year old with an adult prescription for Valium tucked away in his little backpack.

My Son is a Beer Pusher

As many people may know it is football season and my family's favorite time of year. My husband and I are avid Forty Niner fans (save your pity, they're coming back someday) and we currently subscribe to Directv's Superfan package allowing us to watch ALL games. My son caught on in the last year that he can bond with his dad through football and has started yelling at the tv with my husband and now is obsessed with bringing my husband beer after beer. Sunday is the one day a week my husband will embibe unless we have a night out and my son loves nothing more than playing bar maid. Now before you get all crazy and call child welfare, the beer is sealed and my son can't ingest it but he sure works hard to get my poor husband tipsy. My husband will be half way through one when my little son badgers "More beer dada, More beer". I think most of his need to bar tend stems from enjoying getting into the cooler and his surge of toddler helpfulness, either way he's become like a little crack dealer who doesn't take no for an answer. Now any day of the week you can find my son asking "You want beer dada?" no matter where we are. There's nothing more embarassing than a Monday evening with the grandparents or clients and your 3 year old offers to fetch you a beer as if it's something you do everyday, the norm as opposed to what it really is, the exception. My husband is safe from the little pusher this Sunday as we will be at a Niner game. I don't doubt as he sits sweetly with his grandpa watching football on tv and waiting to see us my little man will turn and say "You want beer papa?".