Ouch! That freakin' hurts!

WTF?
G*dd***it!

S***!

F***!

Why can't they make little legos soft and plush? Why do they have to be hard, sharp, and pointy?

Don't the makers of legos have kids? Don't they know what it's like to step on these evil little pieces in the middle of the night?

Legos are akin to shards of broken glass. You think you've picked up every last little piece but then when you are walking around, headed to the refrigerator to see if the food fairies have restocked the milk, you step on something that is stabbing your beautiful foot. You immediately scream out an expletive (see list above). Alas, this time it isn't a piece of glass from your dwindling collection of water gobblets, but you've managed to step on the tiniest lego piece in the history of mankind. And it hurt like holy hell. It's 2:00 am and you hear the kids tossing and turning. Shit. Did I wake them up with the sound of my loud, barbaric yelp?

In the dark (because you cannot turn on any lights or else the kids will surely wake up), you hobble to the bathroom where you can sit in relative peace with the lights on and begin to inspect your foot. Is there blood? There has to be blood because blood is always present after intense pain. But there isn't blood. How can that be? It flippin hurt! You rub your foot, hoping the pain will go away. Rubbing your foot, makes you even more tired (and because it's 2 am) and now you are beginning to fall asleep while sitting on the toilet.

So, you limp back to bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. You are nearly there when you accidentally step on Elmo who starts singing the Sesame Street song in Spanish. Frightened that you may have woken up the entire neighborhood with your loud shrieks of pain and Elmo singing, you quietly sneak back to your bed only to realize that you are still thirsty and need to use the restroom.

Should you attempt the trek again?

No, you go back to sleep and hope you don't wet the bed. That would be embarrassing but you don't want to risk all the pain of stepping on a lego. It's like a minefield on the way to the kitchen.

It's a dangerous thing, being a parent.

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Muppets Rock

Miles reminds me of Animal. Love it.

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And we're off...

Sorry, kids, the blog is taking a bit of a break to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Stay tuned for more nutty happenings here.

It's time to eat fried cockroaches and grubs. Miles is cooking today.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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Turkey Day

Thanksgiving is this week. You know, that American holiday where everyone goes to Grandma's house and eats too much food. The tradition started with the Pilgrims and was made a holiday by President Lincoln (actually it was considered a national day of Thanksgiving and then made an official holiday in 1941).

Well, we live far away from our families in Ohio (helloooo, family!) and we're spending our Turkey Day cooped up in the apartment with the kids. I'll probably decorate for Christmas or find some little crafty thing for the kids to do.

Since it's just us, I decided to ask the kids if they had any special requests for dinner on Thursday. I'm sorry I asked. Here's what they told me:

Boogers

Turkey legs stuffed with insects

Ground worms

Chocolate covered ants

Toenail stew

Oh and Caitlynn seriously asked me to make her a smoothie for Thanksgiving. Who has smoothies on Thanksgiving?

Anyone want to come over for dinner? We eat at 2:00.

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Bosses

Miles informed me that I'm not the boss of him.

My reply back to him?

Oh yeah? Well, you're not the boss of me! After which we exchanged a few, "am toos" and "are nots." I got confused at the end of the argument and now I'm not sure who exactly is supposed to be the boss of whom.

Oh wait. Maybe I'm supposed to be the boss of Miles. I am his mother after all.

Miles has entered that stage in life where he's refusing to take orders from me.

Pick up your toys. I can't.

Throw away your trash. No.

He will gladly help me unload the dishwasher when he's bored with cartoons on TV and he loves to clean his matchbox cars with our toothbrushes and toothpaste, but he does these things on his own terms.

I've instituted a policy where if I pick up his toys they either get thrown away or placed on his bed.

And then he either pulls them out of the trash and uses my toothbrush to clean them or he shoves the toys from his bed onto the floor.

I can't win.

But this battle has just begun. Oh, it's on, Mr. Miles.

(Go Bucks! That's for those living in Ohio watching OSU and UM battle it out.)

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Sicko

I'm going to start wearing a bio-hazard suit at home. Either that or I'm quarantining the kids in their own room.

I normally get a mild cold each winter, but already this fall I've had the flu (I even had a fever -- what??) and a bad cold. Both. The kids have been sick, too. They're the ones who made me sick, hence the reason for the bio-hazard suit. My body needs all the defense it can get.

While I'm at it, I wonder if the doctor has a vaccination to protect me against:

• the germs on my toothbrush after Miles used it to clean the bathroom sink
• poo on my hand. Can I get a new hand? I'll settle for a couple new fingers.
• the snot/mucus that Caitlynn sprayed all over me and my bed
• whatever germs are on Miles' hands -- he touches everything (I mean everything)
• vomit
• the smell of poo and vomit. Air freshener doesn't work. I want my nose fixed.
• the used tissues that Caitlynn leaves around. Gross.

I go to the doctor on Thursday. I'll make sure to bring my list. I'm sure he can help. He's super swell.

We are all better now (well, as good as we can get). The next time the flu rolls into town, I'm moving out. The kids on their own.

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Sweet child of mine

Oh that Caitlynn is so funny. She's really flippin hilarious. I set up a blog for her to exercise her creativity skills. Well, that, and she begged me to make her a blog.

It all started out nice and innocent, with pictures of Miles and videos of cats. Now, it's turned into something else. She's written (and posted an unflattering picture of me -- thanks, babe) "Ideas to torture your mother."

Incidentally, some of the things she's written on the Top 10 list she has actually done to me. I'm not saying which ones, but I will say that I'm not happy when the rug in my bedroom is drenched with water.

Read on...
Caitlynn's Fun House

Happy Friday the 13th.

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Can Moms be silly?

Or even funny?

If we go by social conventions (and what the media tells us), moms are the parent in the house making the rules and ordering everyone around, including daddy. Sure, they may laugh, but in most cases, they are too tired (from all the hard work of being a mom) to make jokes or act silly around the kids. It's easy to make babies giggle -- I'm talking about acting silly around older kids. Seriously, babies don't count here. They are too easy to entertain.

I admit to being the control freak in my marriage. I'm not as anal about things as Joe but I am way more controlling when it comes to our family life. I'm the one who sets the rules for the kids, pays the bills, cooks dinner, does most of the cleaning, and plans things out like vacations and other events. I do all this without much complaint except for when I'm super busy and need a break. It isn't that I don't trust Joe to do these things, but it is just easier if I do it. He doesn't seem to mind, as long as he's consulted from time to time on major things like buying a new car.

That being said, I'm rather silly and crazy around the kids. Maybe it's all the work I do and I consider making weird faces and noises with Miles to be stress relief. I even race the kids from the car to the door (Miles usually beats me - darn it). Heck, I even found humor in potty training Miles, which was the most frustrating thing ever. There were times during the potty training year with Miles that I wanted run off and join the circus where I could find more civilized folks, like ones that don't smear poo all over the bathroom.

All this makes me wonder if other Moms are just as silly. Daddys tend to be the parent that the kids love to play with, since they are more carefree (and perhaps have more time).

Most men think women, in general, are not funny (a male writer had a article about it in Vanity Fair a while back). I agree with this to a point. Men are given a platform to hone their humor skills early in life. During adolescence, they joke around with their friends and do off-the-wall things to get girls' attention. Girls, on the other hand, rarely joke around with each other. In high school, I was the weird one in my group of friends, but I'm having a hard time remembering a moment when we all joked around together. There must have been that one time...

There are funny women out there -- Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, Ellen, Wanda Sykes (see Ima be Me on HBO -- really flippin funny). Despite their ability to write or act funny, I wonder how they are as moms. Does Tina make her kids laugh by acting silly or does she leave the up to her husband? Is he funny, too? I wonder... Btw, Joe is a funny guy and is crazier than me. What does that mean for Caitlynn and Miles?

I'm going to continue being the mom saying off-the-wall things to my kids and running around like a nut in Target's parking lot. Who's with me?

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Awesome kid's show

Miles and Caitlynn (yep, Miss Caty), love this show. They adore it. Why? Because it is actually funny. I even like watching it. Silliness at it's best.

They like it so much, they wanted to share a series of clips from the show.

The Upside Down Show.

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Once bitten, twice shy

This post serves as a warning to all you parents out there who send your toddler to preschool --

Preschool is a dangerous place for those with butts.

It was a typical day in the life of Miles, age 4. We woke up slightly late and got ready. (Meaning, I chased a naked Miles around the apartment who didn't want to wear clothes that day. I won, btw.) Then we headed out the door for school. Miles spent the time jamming to Mötley Crüe in the backseat while I ran a few stop signs. (What? We were late.)

I dropped Miles off at his school and made sure he was happy and then I headed to my own classes where I proceeded to look really interested in the subjects of GPS navigation (seriously) and statistics.

Alas, it was time for me to pick up my boy from school. When I walked in, I noticed a note on his locker. My first thoughts -- Oh no, what did Miles do. But then I realized that that he's a good kid at school and rarely gets in trouble. This must be something out of the ordinary. I was hoping he didn't smear poo all over the bathroom. That would be bad.

Instead, it was an incident report where Miles was the victim of a heinous crime. This is what happened...

Miles was standing on a green dinosaur toy and another kid wanted him to sit down. Miles, being the stubborn individual I created, refused to sit. That's when the kid bit Miles on the butt. Yes, you heard me right. Miles got bit on the ass and then requested an ice pack for his rear.

So you think your kids are safe from harm at preschool and most likely they are, until they come into contact with a butt-biting child. I'm sure there's one in every preschool. If your child is one of these kids (butt-biting child), please make sure he (or she, because girls bite, too) is current on his rabies shot.

You'll be happy to hear that Miles and his butt are doing fine.

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Brought to you by the letter "P"

"P" as in Philadelphia. (Sorry Phillies -- I was rootin' for ya. Those damn Yankees.)

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.

This show is so crass that it's funny. And this is one show that I don't want the kids to watch. I don't want them getting any ideas.

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I would like to thank the Academy...

Yay! I didn't know it was award season around here. What did I do to deserve this? I know, I know... I embarrass my kids on a daily basis. That's always fun.

Let's see...

Here are the rules for this award:

1. Choose 5 stand out blogs. Five? Oh boy. I can't count that high. Miles? Mama needs help!

2. Thank the blogger who gave you this Award. Thank you, AV. You're like the King of Blogger.

3. Answer the questions below with only one word. What? Only one word? Some of these responses warrant 2 or more words.

Here are my answers:
Where is your phone? On desk
Your hair? Brown
Your Mother? Missed
Your Father? Probably reading the paper
Favorite food? Pizza
Your dream last night? About school.
Favorite drinks? Lemonade
Your dreams? Odd
What room are you in? Bedroom
Your hobby? Writing
Your fear? closed-in spaces
Where do you want to be in six years? New York
Where were you last night? Home (as always)
Something you're not? Size 2
Muffins? Blueberry
Wish List Item? Laptop
Last thing you did? Drove
What are you wearing? purple
Your pets? Dexter (cat)
Your friends? Awesome
Your life? Hectic
Your mood? Jovial
Missing someone? Yes
Your vehicle? Ford
Somethinhg you're not wearing? Hat
Your favour colour? Red
When was the last time you laughed? Last night
Last time you cried? A few weeks ago
Your best friend? Hmmm... Stormy
One place you go over and over? School
One person that e-mails you? Steph Cutter
Favorite place to eat? Home

So, who am I going to give this to?

Michael at Do You Hate it Too?

MamaDearest at Top10Mama.

Hektiklyfe at The Silent Podium

Ruchi at Losing my Religion
Vivienne at Vivienne in Wonderland

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Just say no... to soda pop

I don't know the exact day I became this mom; that is, the mom that bans soda pop from the house. But, alas, I am that mom. It wasn't until we had Miles that I decided that soda pop was evil disguised as Coke and Pepsi. We never had an issue with Caitlynn drinking soda. She hated it -- too fizzy for her liking. She preferred chocolate milk (and lots of it). Then Miles had his first sip of soda around 2 or 3 years of age and there was no going back. He wanted more and more and more of it.

Instead of giving in to his apparent addiction, I banned it, much to the chagrin of Joe. He would bring home an occasional 2-litre of soda and it would be the only thing Miles would want. His usual demand was, "I want soda pop, Mama!!" Um. Well. This Mama doesn't like to be yelled at by anyone, let alone a toddler going through soda pop withdrawls. Don't worry, Miles, the shakes will soon subside and you'll be back to normal.

My major reason is that it is simply bad for you (regular or diet -- equally bad in my opinion) and I don't feel like wasting money on it. We live on a budget and I would rather spend that dollar or two on a couple apples. I like soda that is made with fruit juice (like Izze), but it's only on occasion that I splurge on it. Otherwise, we do without. Miles is permitted to have soda when we eat out, but that's a rare occasion for us.

So, yeah, I became a mom I never thought I would be. I normally don't fret too much over the food the kids eat, but then again our snack cupboard hasn't seen potato chips and store-bought sweets in months.

Out of sight, out of mind.

But I do have a craving for Ballreich potato chips.

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Candy

Halloween is over. Now it's time to sort through the kids' candy and pick out what you want to eat. You know they don't like Almond Joys or Snickers or even Kit Kats, so it's more us, the parents. Like Halloween is just for kids and like you don't hope for a bucket full of candy that your kids will hate and just happens to be full of your favorite candy. Ha. Whatever. I was overjoyed to see half of Caitlynn's candy was stuff she won't eat. Woo-hoo! Peanut M&Ms all for me!!

I purposely buy candy to hand out that I know the kids don't like. That way, when we have leftovers, it's more for me and less for them. What? I don't get hyper on chocolate and sugar (not like I did when I was 5). Come to think of it, nothing makes me hyper, not even coffee. hmmmm...

Anyway ... I only buy candy at certain times of the year - Halloween and Easter. I think I'm allowed to splurge on a package of mini Nestle Crunch bars once or twice a year. I know it's in the Dummies guide to parenting, isn't it?

But now that Halloween is over, it's time for the Christmas countdown to begin. Every stinkin' year, Caitlynn asks me each day, "How much longer until Christmas?" And every time I have to figure it out - we are merely a few weeks away and soon we will be doing the countdown in days, then hours, and minutes.

So for those of you keeping count, Christmas is (from Nov. 1, 10:00pm US Mountain Time):

55 days

6 weeks

5 days

1,298 hours

77,880 minutes

4,672,800 seconds from now.

Let the countdown begin.

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