Friday, February 29, 2008
I'm in need of some advice. What do you do when both kids need you at the exact same moment? Who do you choose to help out? It seems like around our house, we have relative peace that can last for about an hour or so. Okay, thirty minutes. Okay, 5 minutes. But they both seem to need something AT THE EXACT SAME TIME. Kendall wants to eat, Cason wants dinner. Kendall needs to be held, Cason wants someone to turn on Cars for him. Kendall needs to be bounced in her bouncy seat, Cason needs someone to get him a snack. They always need something and they are both pretty helpless.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
This morning I was holding Kendall and kissing her. She got a big grin on her face and burped. I quickly moved her away from my face and she spit up mass quantities on the floor.
Don't tell ME there's no God.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
So, who caught the Oscars on Sunday? C'mon...I know all 15 of you are out there. I watched the last ten minutes. I used to love the Oscars...never missed them. And then two things happened. 1) The movies that they nominate for everything became movies no one actually saw or cared about and 2) I had kids. Before we had kids, we loved going to the movies. We made it a point to see every movie nominated for best picture before the Oscars so that we could judge if the best movie really won. Although I will say, we drew the line at Brokeback Mountain because, well, I don't see Colin sitting through that. But since kids, attending the movies is no longer a part of our life experience. Before C was born, I said that we were NOT going to give up going to the movies. Yeah, well, mark that with the other stupid things I said before we had kids (along with, my kids will not sleep in the bed with me, my kids will behave during church, my kids will be more than two years apart, my kids will never have a snotty nose in public, I could go on).
Lately, I've been trying to teach Cason the meaning of "obey." I might as well be trying to teach him the unified theory of physics. I say things like, "You need to obey mom and daddy." And says, "Obey," and gets really proud of himself but the lesson stops there. Inside he's really thinking, "Obey? Let the buzzword GO, for the love of humanity. I'm not going to obey. Not now, not ever. So why don't we cut the pretenses and go back to letting me do whatever the heck I want." I KNOW he's thinking that. I know it.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I've been thinking about something lately. And I'm going to tell you what it is and then you can think I'm horrible person and talk about me behind my back.
Do you ever wish someone would give birth to the world's worst, most difficult, screaming baby? Because I do.
There are generally two types of people I wish these babies upon.
The first is the obvious type - the people that have the easiest first child of all time. The child that slept through the night at two weeks, only ate every four hours, never cried, always smiled, was generally happy to do whatever, whenever, always followed the rules given, was a great toddler, never threw a temper tantrum and played quietly by him or herself. Don't tell me that kid doesn't exist because I know better. I really want those parents to be knocked out by some hellion. I just have to believe the universe works that way. It gives me hope. Now some parents have an easy kid and they know it. They even question whether or not to have more. Should they gamble it? It's not so much these people that should get a terrible baby, rather the ignorant parents that think all babies are like that.
The second type is slightly less obvious. They are the people that don't have kids yet and have had GREAT pregnancies ("I just love being pregnant. I'm not miserable at all!" gag me. ), the spouses are grossly in love with each other, the dad talks to the pregnant belly. You know the type. The nursery was finished in the 23rd week and the name was decided shortly after the couple became engaged four years ago. They've already baby proofed the house and put the car seat in the car. Both mom and dad journal about their hopes for the new baby. These are the ones I really hope get the baby from somewhere unspeakable, so that we can all laugh at them and how naive they were.
Is it obvious I was up almost every hour last night with at least one of my children?
Oh! Guess what I got today? Say hello to my little friend...and don't look at the nutritional information.
Friday, February 15, 2008
I hope everyone had a terrific Valentine's Day. I know we did here at the White House. Don't hate (which by the way, is my new fav phrase lately...and my new fav word is wackadoo - look for it be used in the coming weeks). I know you are all sitting on the edge of your seats wondering how Colin and I celebrated our undying love for one another.
We went to Wal-Mart to buy batteries, ground beef and underwear. And not the sexy kind of underwear. More like the gray, boxer-brief variety. But Colin did offer to buy me a chocolate rose while we were there.
We didn't even sleep in the same bed, if you know what I'm sayin (and I think you know what I'm sayin). Colin fell asleep in Cason's bed while putting him to sleep.
But I was promised a date sometime in the near future. You know, like when the kids are in college.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Recently, Cason has been sleeping astoundingly late. He usually wakes up between 8 and 9 am. Last night, Colin was remarking that he had to go to bed early because he "doesn't get to sleep in until 9 every morning."
My response? If he wants to stay at home all day and change diapers of all sorts, listen to temper tantrums, guess what a toddler wants, guess what a baby wants, clean, do laundry, play tractors 12 times, read "Lightning McQueen" 18 times, watch Cars 3 times, watch Elmo in Grouchland once, maybe if you're lucky get to change your underwear and if you're really lucky take a shower all while simultaneously trying to keep to kids from dying, be my guest. Any takers?
That's what I thought.
In other news, can you guess who my Valentine is?
The Mr. Clean Magic Eraser is possibly the best invention known to mankind. That, my friends, is no exaggeration.
Monday, February 11, 2008
IMPORTANT NEWS BREAK: We made it exactly 702 days in the life of Cason W. without a trip to the ER. Which is pretty amazing considering how careless, I mean -uh- accident prone , we are. Now we have to start over at 1 day. Crap.
And the injury occurred at church, of all places. Case was about to fall down the stairs and Colin grabbed him by the arm. It wasn't until much weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth (literally) along with Cason pointing at his arm saying, "Ow mom, Ow!" (which, might I add, how heartbreaking is that?) and looking at his limp, lifeless arm that we decided to head to the ER (sans Kendall because I am NOT taking my seven week old to the ER with heaven-only-knows-what germs floating around - but not to worry we left her here in her crib by herself(ok, kidding, totally kidding)).
Ah, the ER at 8:00 on a Sunday night in downtown OKC. Fun times to be had by all. We have been to that ER twice before - once for me and once for Colin (I'll spare you the details of those visits) and no one has been in the waiting room. But last night it was a mecca of sick, snotty, vomitty, smelly individuals. There was a large flat screen TV and do you know what was on? Jeepers Creepers. In an ER! What?!
There was one lady there cracking me up. She was outside smoking when we came in. But she followed us in to tell us what a pretty little boy we had. And then she proceeded to sit and stare at him. And I, for some reason, couldn't help but to stare at her. She was missing all her teeth. It was sort of like watching Britney Spears or something. I couldn't look away.
We got Cason a Pop Tart out of the vending machine and I was secretly hoping he wouldn't want it so I would be "forced" to eat it because we hadn't eaten dinner. But no luck.
I don't know if it was because the triage nurse felt sorry for Cason or if she wanted him out of the waiting room because he was screaming ( I really mean that) constantly but she put us at the front of the line and when we got called after being there for only a few minutes, my toothless friend went over to a security guard to ask why she had been there three hours and no one had called her yet but we got right through. I told Girlfriend, "Don't hate, appreciate." Apparently Girlfriend was under the impression that the guard had some standing in choosing who got in first.
When the doctor came in to see Cason, she took one look at him and said, "It's nursemaid elbow." You can read more about the condition here. It's basically a dislocated elbow. So she popped it back into place while Colin and a resident held him down. Ok, if you thought, "Ow, mom, ow" was heartbreaking, watching your child scream bloody murder while having his arm twisted and twisted and being held down is worse. The resident practically had to have a heart to heart therapy session with me. But instantly, and I mean instantly, Cason was fine. His arm was fine, he was using it (and by "using it" I mean pushing the rolling doctor's chair all over the place) and in a good mood. They did some x rays to be sure and he loved that. Unfortunately, I can't convince the insurance company that we have a need for one at the house so he's out of luck there.
When we left, Girlfriend was still waiting and Jeepers Creepers was still on.
Last night when we got home Cason was pretty much allowed to do whatever he wanted so it's back to business as usual.
Friday, February 08, 2008
I try not to blog to often about poop.
It's not that I mind talking about poop. Those that know me well know I actually enjoy talking about gross things like poop, earwax, vomit, pads, farts, etc. Except toenails. I draw the line there.
But I know not everyone shares the same affinity for grossness, so I try to keep it to a minimum here. And I'm quite sure no one wants to hear about my kids' poops. However, what I experienced yesterday warrants a post.
Wait! Come back...you'll want to hear this.
Kendall (that's right, Kendall...you thought Cason didn't you?) pooped more yesterday than I have honestly ever seen in my life. I mean, in all my years of babysitting, working in a daycare for two years, and going through Cason , a champion pooper if he does say so himself, I have never seen anything like this. And I'll give it up to Pampers. That little Pamper, bless its heart, was just holding on within an inch of its life. When I opened it up, it exploded. Everywhere.
After five wipes didn't even make a dent in the volume of poop, I just stuck her under the faucet in the tub. The tub that I had just one hour earlier scrubbed down. When I went to throw the diaper away, the Diaper Genie just laughed at me said, "You must be joking." The pj's she was wearing just got trashed. If you were the one that gave them to me as a gift, I'm sorry for your loss. All the while, Cason was eating lunch and when he realized he was by himself, he started calling out my name at the top of his lungs. It was at that point that I realized I have no idea what I'm doing.
Kendall is going to make someone a fine wife someday.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
I thought for Valentine's Day, I would write a series of letters to all my little Valentines. Here's the first...
Oh, how much I love you. I love to go and bask in the glory of buying a cute baby outfit, picture frame and two pounds of cookie dough all in the same place. And that place not being Wal-Mart.
Target, you understand me. You get me. You know my needs better than I myself do. Who knew that I needed Deceptively Delicious? You did. Who knew I needed a new pair of "I'm in between sizes because I just had a baby and don't want to spend $60 at Gap because I'm hoping not to wear them that long" pair of jeans? You did, Target. You did. And I love you for it.
PS Your return policy has got to go, I might add. Just a suggestion, my love.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Ok, may I rant for second? Yes, Emily you may. Thank you.
Dear Barack Obama:
As you know yesterday was Super Tuesday. And not just because kids' meals are 99 cents at Fazoli's, but because many of our nation's states voted in the presidential primary. I know that you are in a very tight race with Hillary Clinton. Or Billary, or Hilarious Hil, or whatever you like to call her. Because of this tight race, I understand that you are pulling out all the stops, understandably. I know that many of your "Hollywood" friends are stumping for you. And it's about said friends that I wish to speak to you today.
I saw a recent video of will.i.am in which many of your famous acquaintances appear asking us, the people, to vote for you. In the video, there appear many people who other than being in a movie or a less than adequate tv show, have no credentials. They have no education beyond high school and certainly no political experience. In this little video (which to my blog readers, I will not even dignify with a link) Kim Kardashian sings. Kim Kardashian. Kim. Kardashian. That's like Anna Nicole Smith (may she rest in peace) stumping for you. Seriously Barack. Seriously. If I WAS going to vote for you, I definitely wouldn't now.
I'm quite certain that if you were elected president, the country may burn down around us, but that is neither here nor there right now. I tell you this so that I don't have to roll my eyes every time I see that random guy from October Road or Dr. Addison telling me who to vote for. And Barack, it makes you look like you have a serious lack of credibility when the guy who was on Lost two seasons ago is now trying to get me to vote for you. Please tell your "celeb" friends to act and/or sing and shut up. That's what we pay them to do. Thanks!