Things I Never Want To Hear My Daughter Say Ever Again

"I want to get naked!"

'Nuff said.

Arts And Crafts Are Dumb

Let me just preface this by saying I am not a crafty person.  I try to be but the fact is I don't have extra googly eyes, pipe cleaners, or batting lying around the house all of which appear to be prerequisites before starting any arts and crafts project.  So, when I do feel like an arts and crafts project is in order for the day it takes a lot of energy out of me because I have to improvise with what I have.  Plus, like I said before, I am not a crafty person.  I feel like the World's Best Mother just on the days that I break out the crayons so actually executing a real, honest to goodness project is the frickin' Nobel Prize for Mothers in my world.

Another hindrance to arts and crafts projects are the children for which said arts and crafts projects are designed for.  Particularly my children.  Take today for instance.  I found online a cute design for a turkey using the hands and feet of the girls (not their literal hands and feet though at this point I'd say as long as they're participating who cares).  So, I take Jo first and trace her foot.  For a 1 year old she did remarkably well.  Then it's Alex's turn.  She refuses, I mean absolutely refuses to the point of tears, to let me trace her f****ing foot.  What the f***.  I don't know if she thought I was going to stab her foot with the pencil or if she thought her foot would fall off...I really don't know what was going on in her mind but, as per usual, I lost my sh*t and am now sitting here writing this post.

In my attempt to make the girl's day just a little more fun than average I have been thwarted and turned what was a pretty good day into a slightly sucky one.  So, here I am, stewing over the whole thing and finishing the project by myself.  If Alex and Jo ever say that their mom never did any fun arts and crafts projects with them I'll refer them to this post.

Let's just call it like it is.  This is MY stupid arts and crafts project.

She Didn't Start The Fire

There are definitely some differences between my parenting decisions and Marcus's.  I tend to take into account both of the girl's ages and then base my decisions on what is or is not appropriate for them.  Marcus, not so much.

For example, the conversation we just had went a little something like this:
Me (looking at potential Christmas gifts for Alexandra):  I'm getting a kick out of the fact Alex is into more "boy" type toys than "girl" toys.  Like, here's a toy firefighter set that she would think is so cool.  She loves to pretend she's a firefighter.
Marcus:  Yeah.  We should get a squirt gun so she can practice putting out fires.
Me:  *pause*  As in real fires?
Marcus:  Yeah.
Me:  *pause*  She's 2.
Marcus:  So?
Me:  Do you really think it's a good idea to teach her how to start fires?  Next thing I know she's outside setting fire to the lawn (side note: good luck with that because it's nothing but sand).
Marcus:  I'm not teaching her how to start a fire!  She isn't going to figure out how to do that!
Me:  She's no dummy, she'll figure it out quickly.  I don't think it's such a good idea to be starting fires so Alex can play fireman.
Marcus:  I don't see what the problem is.
*and scene*

I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that my well-educated husband thinks allowing a 2 year old to practice putting out fires is a good idea, although he did agree to let it slide until she's 3.  He insists I'm being overprotective and giving Alex more intelligence credit than what is due.  I simply don't think we should be encouraging anyone to start a fire for the thrill of putting it out, especially not at the age of 2.  I'm pretty sure Sparky the Fire Dog® would be less than thrilled at this prospect.  Also, it should come as no surprise that Marcus doesn't know who Sparky the Fire Dog® is.

Drinky, Drinky Mommy

At 9:30 this morning Alexandra brought me a Miller Lite saying "Mommy needs a drink."  For a split second I thought of popping it open only because Alex was so pleased with herself for being such a thoughtful daughter and I didn't want to hurt her feelings but I decided against doing so.  I mean, I'm stressed these days but not that stressed.  I also want to clear up the fact that I do not sit around all day drinking.  Nor do I sit around all night drinking.  In fact, my alcohol consumption has decreased drastically because it takes too much energy.  Also, if I had a choice I would have gone with the Blue Moon Pumpkin Harvest over the Miller Lite.

The Accident Prone Josephine

Jo is the poster child for those stupid bumper pads you can put around coffee tables.  Actually, she would probably do well in a completely padded home.  For the third time this week Josephine has busted her lip open.  It would seem as if her face keeps getting in the way of the floor and bed frames.  This comes a week after her forehead kept hitting the corner of walls producing straight-lined bruises (twice that happened).  I really can't explain how it is she continues to maim herself in the most unlikely of scenarios other than she is her father's daughter and comes by it honestly (lest we forget the winter of 2010 when Marcus fractured his skull and broke his collar bone in a 6 week time span).

Prior to the last two weeks of injuries Josephine has already taken a nasty fall down the stairs.  That produced a goose egg, black eye, and a trip to Patient First.  Her sister has also been the cause of some accidents, most recently when Alex mowed Jo down in a should-have-seen-it-coming Radio Flyer car and ramp incident.  The product of that was road rash, a bloody upper lip, and another black eye (on the same side of the face even, her left).  The very first serious injury she received was around 6 months of age when she did a surprise leap out of her daddy's lap and over the side arm of a chair.  We kept our eye on her for the remainder of the day but she seemed fine.  There are also the numerous times Jo has either fallen down or been pushed and smacked the back of her head on the floor.  If she suffers from Alzheimer's in her old age too many blows to the head will be the root cause I'm sure.

I am a little more than concerned about what the future holds for Josephine and whether our BFFs will eventually be the ER staff if she continues down this path of toddler self-destruction.

Issues

I really do not like being a stay-at-home mom.  I dislike it greatly.  I can go so far as to say that I hate it.  I hate that day in and day out is spent changing diapers, constantly feeding bottomless pits, dealing with tantrums, and feeling like a failure when I inevitably lose my cool.  How am I supposed to be raising stellar members of society when I can barely keep it together to act as the model of one?  I can barely look at the girls sometimes because I'm either unhappy with them or severely unhappy with myself as their mother.

I hate that we live as far away from family and friends as we do.  When I'm feeling like I do today I have no one to call on to come give me a break.  I haven't made any friends down here because I just don't have it in me.

I hate that I no longer have my own source of income and have to rely on my husband to support the family.  Somewhere, in the efforts of women to become so equal amongst men we have done ourselves a huge disservice because it seems no matter which direction a woman chooses when it comes to her family life it's never good enough.  If you're a working mom you're not good enough because you aren't raising your babies and instead relying on day care and other types of care to raise your children.  If you're a stay-at-home mom you're not good enough because women should be equal in the work force and if men can work and have families so can women.  For me personally, this feminist bullsh*t has created a lot of inner turmoil and I can't imagine I'm the only one.

I am stressed, tired, and unhappy.  Something has to give.

Aftermath of Halloween 2013

So, we managed to only scar one of our children this Halloween.  That should score us a few extra parenting points, right?  Alexandra was more than a little intimidated by the scary masks that were showing up at our door but we convinced her they weren't "bad" guys and were actually "good" guys in disguise.  I'll let you know how that affects her little psyche in the next few years.

Josephine on the other hand seemed to struggle with the scary masks a little more.  She was visibly frightened by one of the trick-or-treaters and later, around 3:00 in the morning, was awake and screaming from what I am sure was a nightmare.  The biggest problem with Jo's screams are she could literally wake the dead and so, instead of letting it go like I normally would, I went to try and console her.  The biggest problem here is not the mixed signals I'm sending by going to her on occasion when she cries at night but rather that I'm not her daddy.  So, being that I am not the daddy the little stinker decided she was having none of that and wiggled out of my lap, making a beeline through the dark towards Marcus.

I know some of you might be wondering how I can't seem to keep a 1 year old in my lap but, let's be honest, at 3:00 in the morning I have very little fight in me and when Josephine sets her mind to something she doesn't give up and will throw all 23 pounds of her body in ways that are Hulk-like.  Needless to say all 3 of us were essentially awake for the rest of the night as we went from Josephine trying to get comfortable in our bed to me trying to get Josephine to go back to sleep in her own bed.  Trying to share a bed with a baby is just pure insanity and the only way it might be conceivable is if the entire room were a mattress.

Anyway, this is all to say that Josephine will probably live the rest of her life in constant fear of Halloween and...hold everything.  24 hours later and Alexandra just woke up crying and screaming.  I don't think even Freud could handle this one.  Marcus and Lauren = 0, Parenting = 2.   

Happy 1st Birthday, Josephine!

I thought time went by quickly when Alex all of a sudden turned 1 and then 2.  Now, my JoJo is turning 1 and I really cannot believe it.  I remember during my pregnancy the guilt I felt about making Alex step aside and allow a new member into our family, in a way pushing her out of the way.  But now I see that Jo is the Ying to Alex's Yang...or maybe it's the other way around.  Alex is strong willed (we'll just go with that).  Jo is strong willed also but she does it with a smile on her face.  While Alex got my quick temper and frustration Jo got my sense of humor.  As I told Marcus one day when we were riding in the car and only Jo was responding to my silly faces "She gets me."

So, in honor of the tiniest Tepaske here are some stats about Josephine Margaret:

1. Her nicknames include:  The JoJonator (my favorite), Silly Goose, Joge, Joes, Gorgeous (or should that be "Jorgeous," ha!), and JoJoes.  None are particularly original though I am found of The JoJonator.
2. She can stack rings like nobody's business and is working on shape sorting and oversized puzzles.
3. She's been walking since she was about 10 months old so she's practically running now...at least her waddle has gotten faster particularly when she's grabbed something she knows she shouldn't have.
4. She likes to dance by bouncing up and down and turning in circles until she falls.
5. She can repeat "Mama," "Dada," "Baba," and "Haha."  No real words yet though she does babble quite a bit.
6. She eats like a champ and as of today gets her one night time bottle of milk.  No more breast milk/formula for us for the rest of our lives (yes, that means what you think it means)!  Huzzah for us!
7. She loves to give hugs and kisses but she'll hold it against you if you've been gone all day and deny you either one of those.  She still loves to snuggle.
8. She loves to do whatever her big sister is doing which is a good and a bad thing.
9. She thinks whatever she does is funny.  For example, she'll go in the kitchen and put a colander on her head and stand there laughing until someone laughs with her (which we do).
10. She loves everyone in her family and quickly warms up to people she may not see often.

Her physical stats are: Height 31 inches and weight 22.8 pounds.


Happy 1st Birthday, JoJonator!

Shower Time

For a fleeting moment this morning I was the most brilliant mother in the world.  So brilliant they would be talking about me for ages.  Then, reality struck and I was back to being annoyed and screamy.

You see, I have a hard time determining the best time to take a shower.  Nighttime is optimal but I hate taking showers at night because I wake-up feeling dirty (take that as you will).  Besides, I started running again so that necessitates a morning shower.  I could wait just a few hours after the run and take a shower during the girls' naptime but I'm in school full-time and need that full 15 minutes of pure bliss for studying (aka a nap).

Now, the biggest part of taking a shower after a run is what to do with the girls.  Alex is pretty well-behaved on her own for the most part (this does not include yesterday when she got a hold of the permanent marker and inked herself and her sister up) and I don't mind if she's not in the bathroom with me.  Jo, on the other hand, I don't trust as far as I can throw her and that's not very far because she's quite the chunket.  For starters she likes to stand at the shower ripping the curtain back, filling the floor with water, then subsequently falling because she slips.  This is when she's not finding random things to throw in the tub with me like stuffed animals and wooden toys that could impale me if I slipped and fell in a freak accident.  In all it makes for a less than luxurious shower experience.

Today, however, I had a brilliant idea.  I would take the gate from the bottom of the stairs and prop it against the door to the closet which connects to the bathroom.  That way the girls could play in there and I could take a shower completely kid free and worry free.

Fool.  Oh, silly, silly fool.  I got about half-way through when things started to go wrong.  First, Alex was taking all of my shoes and throwing them over the gate into the bathroom.  Whatever, that was bound to happen.  Then, she figured out she could get through the gate and leave her sister on the other side, essentially taunting her.  Jo, of course did not take kindly to this and stood on the other side crying her banshee cry.  During this time Alex was going back and forth between the bathroom and closet when finally, I heard the inevitable crashing of the gate as it fell to the floor.  My head dropped, defeated.  I just wanted to take a f***ing shower.  Just a mother f****ing shower.  It had been two days since I took one.  I really needed it and all I wanted to do was take it without having to hold onto the shower curtain and shave my legs at the same time.

"Out!" I yelled at Alex, "Get out!  Just go!"  By this point Jo had crawled onto the gate and was making her way out ready for her shower reign rain of terror to start.  Instead, because I didn't care anymore, I told Alex to open the bathroom door and let them both go, out into the house.  A few minutes later and I realized my grievous error.  I had taken the gate from the bottom of the steps, meaning Jo would see her chance to climb the stairs and fall and break her neck laugh in the face of danger once she reached the top.  Freaking A.  I jumped out of the shower, grabbed the useless gate and ran into the living room hoping none of the neighbors had a pair of binoculars trained on the window of the living room (What?  I like to think of myself as potential MILF material).

So, here I sit.  Defeated and deflated.  Maybe one day I'll have it all figured out.  Or, at least the shower part.  I won't be so bold as to state that one day I'll have it all figured out because that is certainly foolish.

Things That Have Happened On My Watch While Marcus Is Away

While Marcus has been on travel for the last month I have been keeping my girls alive.  I'm not sure how but somehow they both are still breathing though not without their fair share of bumps and bruises and, perhaps, nicotine addictions.

Just today I was showing Alex how to hula hoop with a weighted hula hoop (the kind with water in it...for whatever reason).  She apparently was entranced by the prowess that is my hula hooping as she walked right into it, head first.  A few minutes later and I'm wondering what the heck she did to her head when I was politely reminded of that one time when I hula hooped into my daughter's face.

Last night Josephine did a full-on face plant after falling off the bed.  I went to grab her as it happened but to no avail.  It sounded painful and I'm sure it was because she did a very long silent wail before letting out the big one.

Still though, I'm not sure that's better or worse than the cigarette butt she put in her mouth tonight.  Yeah.  That happened.  On my watch.  And it was a nasty cigarette butt, too.  Not fresh, clearly been outside for a while.  After getting it away from her she shivered as the horrid taste surely hit her.

Marcus comes home in less than a week and none too soon if you ask me.  Here's hoping both girls have all appendages and various other body parts accounted for by the time he gets back.

Doctorate of Parenting

I am of the opinion that children should be seen and not heard, especially in public.  I probably would have done very well living during the Victorian era.  Because of my, let's call it what it is, ability to be a good member of society I cringe when my children make even the slightest of noises when we're out and about.  There is nothing harder than convincing a two year old she should whisper and as far as the baby goes, well there literally is nothing I can do.  But I try, damnit, I try.

Because of this philosophy on child rearing I found myself one fateful morning receiving my Doctorate of Parenting.  Up until this point I had rightfully earned my Bachelor's of Parenting by learning how to clean a stinky butt in 5 seconds flat or burp a baby and avoid being spit-up on.  As it turns out, all of that was putting me on the fast-track for my Doctorate.

Our road trip to Minnesota became, in effect, my Doctoral project.  Our first night on the road we found ourselves checking into a hotel after midnight.  The girls were a little wary about this new adventure but settled down within an hour only to awaken, ready for the day, 4 hours later.  Marcus, realizing he was about to have a murder-suicide situation on his hands, took both girls out of the room and down to the lobby to watch cartoons and be the first in line for breakfast (which was not a goal he had set for this trip).  A few hours later, Marcus and the girls came back up and I took over Josephine duties and attempted to pack us up while Marcus and Alex left to swim in the pool.

As luck would have it Jo was cutting a tooth at this very time and as such was miserable.  When Jo is miserable the only comfort she can find is in me, as in she had to be plastered to me at all times.  If I even made as if to put her down she would scream making it impossible to get anything done.  Had we been at home I would have let it go but we were in a hotel and it was only 7:00 in the morning.  My child was being horrid and I just knew someone was plotting our demise and this time it wasn't me.

At some point during this ordeal I had to use the bathroom, bad.  Since Jo wouldn't let me put her down I thought I would bring her into the bathroom with me.  The school of thought there being at least she could see me.  Needless to say, she sat on the bathroom floor screaming her head off which was only amplified by the excellent bathroom acoustics.  Eventually, I had to just pick her up and hold her in my lap as I went to the bathroom.  I'll leave it up to you to decide if it was #1 or #2 but the point is, Jo was finally a quiet and happy baby as she sat on my lap and I went to the bathroom.  Unfortunately, I had to put her back down and the screaming started back up again but there are some things that are just simply impossible to do while holding a baby.  Maybe if I figure out a way to finish taking care of business while holding a baby I will be elevated to the Nobel Peace Prize of Parenting.

Not Such A Bad Day

So, I guess some people (*ahem* Marcus) weren't a fan of my last post.  All I have to say is I am entitled to bad days just like everybody else.  It isn't fair to set the standard that a mom can't have a bad day and seriously not like her children.  I don't like a lot of people on a daily basis.  Why should my children be any different?

Anyway, in case anyone is worried or concerned today, I like them.  Jo is currently "singing" into the microphone of a keyboard (thanks, Auntie Maura...we owe you...BIG) and Alex keeps disappearing only to reappear wearing a pair of my shoes.  Oh, goody.  Now she and Jo are both singing into the microphone.

Guess who it is I don't like today?  It's the same person who's step-daughter will probably be receiving an electric guitar for Christmas.

Sh*tty

I was going to sit here and write a post about how much I hated my children today.  Seriously.  Up until about 5 seconds ago I was stewing in my hatred for two children whom I chose to bring into this world.  As I took a shower, Bill Cosby's words rang in my ears "I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it."

All day long I have wanted to throttle Alexandra.  My voice is hoarse from yelling at her mostly to stop hitting, pushing, or choke-holding her sister.  My blood boiled all day long as the hours crept by at a seemingly snails pace.  She went to time-out at least twice though, what sort of impact it is having on her other than she tells her toys to go to time-out I don't know.

Josephine, on the other hand, I have a little more patience for but I still want to put her in her crib, shut the door, and leave.  Like, totally leave.  Like, get in the car and leave.  Alas, the responsible adult in me realizes that to do so would certainly mean jail time and that's enough to stop me in my tracks.

This is all to say, though, that just prior to writing this I read a story about a couple who are getting married because their 2 year old has only weeks to live.  Talk about perspective.  Despite the fact that I can honestly say today I hated my children at least I know that tomorrow morning they both will wake-up.  Both of them will have forgotten the day before and both of them will laugh and play and yes, fight, but the fact is they will be alive.

And now I feel like the shittiest mother in the world.

Our 9 Month Old

This post has nothing to do with our vacation either.  It is, however, about our little chunket Jo who just turned 9 months.  She is a force to be reckoned with.  When she sets her sight on something (mind you, her sight is about knee level) she stops at nothing to get to it.  When I tell her "no" she knows exactly what I'm saying but could care less.  When she feels her lot in life is unjust she throws herself onto the ground, crying piteously.  She has a sense of humor that makes me think she'll be the Jerry Lewis to Alex's Dean Martin (I swear I'm not 80 years old).  None of this though mentions the fact that she wakes up smiling, she adores her big sister, and she "sings" along when I sing her lullabies at night.

Today was her 9 month check-up so, without further ado, I'd like to give some of her stats before I forget:

Jo is 21 pounds 4 ounces (80th percentile) and 27.5 inches long (55th percentile).  I forget her head circumference but it's in the 75th percentile.
She babbles constantly, smiles, laughs and regales us with her mischievous smile at all times.
She can pull herself up and cruise all around the furniture, legs, whatever is within reach.
She recently climbed up the stairs and when she's crawling and Alex is running around she pushes her butt in the air as if to stand.  You can see she can't wait to be up and causing more mischief with Alex.
She has two teeth on the bottom but no sign of any others to date.
She is attempting to eat finger foods but so far is failing.  We don't understand why everything else goes into her mouth but when it comes to putting food into her mouth she can't figure it out.
We've also started giving her a sippy cup once a day which is just a daily reminder for me that she won't be a baby much longer.
I've realized I don't know Jo.  Not yet.  I think I see a glimmer of her personality but it won't be for another year before she really starts to shine and I can't wait.
She scrunches up her nose, sometimes makes noises like a Wookie and at other times like a Gremlin and yet other times she just simply grunts.
She sleeps through the night though wakes up occasionally.  Sometimes I think she has nightmares because she wakes up screaming and is inconsolable.  I hate those nights.
She is easily frustrated when she can't reach the object of her desire and, if she does reach it, gets even more frustrated when said object is promptly taken away.  Generally speaking the objects of her desire are very much things she shouldn't have such as old band aids, remote controls, cat toys, wine bottles...you know, the usual things left lying around the house.
If Jo wakes up from her nap before Alex does you get the sense that she is lost.  She kind of meanders around the living room, not really playing with anything.  The minute Alex walks in the room though she lights up.
She has a personal vendetta against freshly folded piles of laundry.  If she spots me working diligently to fold laundry she'll come over and with a grunt rip the pile apart.  This makes folding laundry a challenge unless I wait for Jo to be asleep.
She can clap her hands and "dances" to music.

So, that's our Jo in a nutshell.  Sometimes when I'm being myself (i.e. weird) Alex will just stare at me as if to say "WTF."  Jo on the other hand.  She gets me.

Just A Moment

I know some of you may be anxiously awaiting a new post about our road trip to Minnesota but I'm currently up to my arms in fleas, diaper explosions, and school work, not necessarily in that order.  So far today I've had pizza rolls and a small can of coke.  That's how conscientious of my diet I am plus a good indicator of how busy I am.

So, give me a minute or two.  I promise, it's coming.

Chaos

Wanna know how my night went?  In one word: chaos.  While Marcus has been yucking it up in Virginia I've been at home wrangling the wild beasts that are my children and cat.

A little background for you.  We've recently discovered Lasagna (the cat) has been pooping and peeing in areas that are not her litter box.  I almost gave her away as a kitten and again shortly after Alex was born and now I'm regretting never having done so.  I don't even really like the cat to begin with so getting rid of her is really not a problem for me.  I digress.

I thought I knew the areas Lasagna was doing her business, specifically all in Alex's room (passive-aggressive much, Lasagna?) but I was wrong.  After dinner I found another spot in the laundry room that demanded prompt attention.  Some may call me anal but I like to consider myself fastidious.  I have a nose for stink and I can't stand it which is partly how I've single-handedly kept Yankee Candle in business.  Again, getting off topic.

Anyway, the order of events in our household usually occur as such:  1. Dinner, 2. Bath, 3. Night cap for all, 4. Stories, 5. Bedtime.  We've made that routine our bitch and as such Alexandra is quite the stickler for it.  So, when I started getting all crazy about sniffing out cat pee I forgot that there were other priorities.

Now, the following is a tad bit my own fault.  At one point, Alex told me she had a dirty diaper which usually is a good indication that she indeed has a dirty diaper.  I told her to hold on a second, we'd be taking a bath really soon.  I shoved that bit of information to the recess of my mind and continued on my decontamination of the house.  Also worth mentioning, during this time I lost track of Josephine.  I knew she was alive I just didn't know exactly where.  Anyway, as I was wrapping up my cleaning Alex came running up to me butt-ass naked and, as if I needed further proof, proudly proclaimed "I naked!"  "Yes, yes you are," I replied not in the least bit distracted by that bitch of a cat.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that I noticed she had poop on her bottom as she ran all over the house, relishing in her nakedness.  Oh. My. Fucking...you get it.  I don't like cat poop in the house and I certainly don't need human waste all over the place either.  "Alex!  Get in the bathroom right now!  It's time for a bath!"  Surprisingly, she listened though it then became a game of running into and out of the bathroom because I couldn't go right in with her as Josephine was MIA.  "Where is Josephine?!  Alex, back in the bathroom NOW!  Josephine! (as if she would respond with a "yes, mother") Where are you?!  Alex, if you don't get back in the bathroom right now you're going to REGRET IT.  JOSEPHINE!"  I ran into the master bathroom because that's one of her favorites and sure enough, there she was, crawling away from her pièce de résistance, an entire roll of toilet paper torn and crumpled and probably partially consumed on the floor.

As I was trying to wrangle Jo into the girls bathroom Alex continued her frolic until I could settle her down enough to wipe her butt and put them both in the bath.  They're both now asleep, and have been for the last hour, and I'm wondering why all I have is a glass of water sitting in front of me.  When Marcus called tonight he asked how my day was.  I responded with a sigh.  That's all I have left in me.  

This Is Probably TMI

I figured maybe it was time to post a little something about myself.  I tend to be a vain creature (Hi, Jeffrey!) and I like to make sure everybody doesn't forget me.  Me, me, me.  It was me, after all, who carried and gave birth to the two babies we constantly talk about.  I mean, isn't it time we give that a break?  They're all of 2 and 8 months respectively and don't have nearly the same level of awesomeness that I do.

But, in all seriousness, I would like to write a little something about myself.  Specifically, my body post two babies.  This is where most of you can stop reading if you'd like.

First I'd like to mention the fact that after giving birth I felt pretty darn good about my body (both times).  I mean, I'm no Victoria's Secret model bouncing back after a few weeks but I didn't have any stretch marks and my belly went down pretty well (though, as we'll find out later, not as well as I thought).  I held on to some extra weight from Alex that I couldn't shake before getting pregnant with Jo but I've since lost all of that weight and was feeling pretty good about myself.

That was, until a few weeks ago when the pastor of our church asked me if I was pregnant.  I was shocked.  I thought he was telling me a joke.  When the punchline never came, I loudly exclaimed "No!," punched him in the gut, then ran away.  Most of that last sentence is true.

It was at that exact moment that I decided to pick-up my running routine that I had been putting off for long enough.  I did and two weeks into it I'm already injured.  I guess working my way up to 4 miles in less than 2 weeks was kind of stupid.  There goes my beach bod but I don't really care.  I've seen the state of some of the women out there wearing bikini's and I'm going to go for it anyway.  Eh, on second thought maybe not.  I just looked for a bathing suit at Victoria's Secret and I think I'm going to fast for the next two months before going out in a bathing suit.

In the end though, my only real complaint is with my breasts.  They are out of control after breast feeding two babies.  I put on a sports bra and one nipple points one way, the other points another.  This is even after trying to line them up.  It's like they're made of those stress balls filled with sand but way less firm and more of a Jello filling so, actually, not much like a stress ball at all.  I can't even hang out around the house without a bra.  Scratch that.  I can and I do.  But I'm pretty sure I make people uncomfortable with how low my breasts hang, one nipple pointing to the left and the other pointing down.  Why they point that way I have no idea, but it's true.


So, there you have it.  My post two babies, body issues.  It could be worse.  For example, it could be worse if I still weighed 180 pounds (no joke, that's how much I weighed with Jo...it was more than Marcus) but without the added benefit of having a baby inside me, so there's that.  But it could be better.  For example, it could be better if I still had the cute runner's butt I used to have as opposed to the mom butt that's been quietly forming back there. 

The Handful

Josephine.  Josephine, Josephine, Josephine.  Where do I start with this one?  First off I'd just like to say that I called this a long time ago.  Josephine is turning out to be quite the handful.  This weekend gave us a brief glimpse into our future and boy, is it busy.

The first lesson of the week started on Saturday.  First of all I should tell you that Jo started pulling herself up about 2 weeks ago.  Since then she's taken numerous tree-like falls backwards and I wouldn't be one bit surprised if she's given herself a mild concussion by now.  She pulls herself up onto everything and on Saturday climbed up the entire staircase.  Now, before you get all crazy I was right behind her the whole time.  Anyway, we've since put a gate at the bottom of the stairs.

Lesson number two came when I realized she had rediscovered the cat food I had already hidden on her once before.  Water and food was everywhere.  We've since barricaded the front door area of the house.  Please note that both lesson one and two are more of a hindrance for Marcus and I than anything because now we have to maneuver around things.

Lesson number three came when I found her in the bathroom eating toilet paper.  I hate to say this but by this point in time I'm fairly certain she's consumed toilet paper, potting soil, a piece of string, a part of a birthday blowout party favor, of course cat food, and not to mention anything else I haven't caught her with red-handed.  Unfortunately I don't have a better solution for any of these scenarios except for never taking my eye off her for one second and, I'll be perfectly honest here, that ain't gonna happen.

Lesson number four happened Sunday morning just before church.  I was in the bathroom when I heard a thud followed by the screams of Jo (her screams could wake the dead...I am certain the entire neighborhood has heard her).  I walked into the living room to be told that Jo had been standing in Marcus's lap and had launched herself over the arm of the chair they were in.  Neither of us know how she landed but she did have a nice bruise on her forehead so we assume she landed on her head.  Great.  We watched for signs of serious injury but other than crying her eyes out she acted normal.  Lesson number four, do not let Jo stand in your lap and launch herself over the arm of a chair.

Lesson number five also happened on Sunday when I was running on the treadmill while Marcus was "watching" the girls.  I know Marcus well enough to know that when I started running I needed to glance behind me every once in a while to see who might be lurking back there.  Alex would generally come in the room, stand there watching for a second, then leave.  However, towards the end of my run Jo had been lured in by the activity of her big sister.  I saw, out of the corner of my eye, as she spotted me on the treadmill and got the biggest shit-eating grin you ever saw.  She gave a shriek and made a bee line right for the treadmill.  "Marcus!" I screamed.  No response.  "Marcus!" I tried again, the panic rising.  Finally, in a last ditch effort to stop her I was about to hop off the machine when Marcus came running into the room and scooped her up.  Mind you, at no point did I ever consider turning the machine off so we can see where my priorities lie in times of distress.  Now, I either run when the girls are sleeping or, if Marcus is home...oh, who am I kidding?  I won't be running with Marcus in charge anymore.

Since I already called it earlier that Jo would be a handful I'm going to call this:  Jo will be the first to either get stitches or break a bone (God help me).

Does this look like the face of a troublemaker?  Yes.

Marcus The Doctor

In the immortal words of "Dora the Explorer" (Shoot me.  Shoot me, now.) "He did it, he did it, he did it, hooray!"  This past Saturday Marcus was officially accepted into the "company of scholars" (their words, not mine) when he received his Doctorate of Engineering.  What an achievement that has been 5 years in the making.  Along with working on his doctoral thesis these past five years Marcus has:  Married me, welcomed 2 baby girls (and a cat) into his life, purchased 4 homes and flipped one, purchased an apartment building, moved twice, took jobs in D.C. and North Carolina, received his pilot's license, traveled to Hawaii, Jamaica, Costa Rica, and Japan, and broken at least two bones. 

Couple all of these life events with me trying not to kill him and it's a miracle he made it at all.  No, seriously.  His life was on the line on more than one occasion.  Everyone congratulated me, too for being here supporting Marcus but I certainly don't deserve any credit because half the time I was debating on the merits of poisoning versus electrocution or just moving back in with my mom.  I'm also not proud to say that I know for a fact when flung across the room at a high velocity avocado stains walls.  Don't ask me how I know, just trust me.

All of this is simply to say, though, how great it is to know this portion of our lives is over.  We made it through despite the craziness that has been our lives and now we can focus on other things, like absolutely NOTHING.  

Mommy Vs. Alex

What I say:  "Alex.  I really need JoJo to take a nap right now so can you come in here with us and read quietly while I give her a bottle?"

What Alex hears:  "Alex.  I really need JoJo to take a nap so can you come in here with us and pull out every book that either makes animal noises or, is being read to you or, sings lullabies?  After that can you play outside of JoJo's doorway with the Johnny Jump-Up by slamming it repeatedly into the doorjamb?  That would be great, thanks."

Love

Something that JoJo does that I don't ever want to forget:  After she finishes her bottle she flips herself onto her belly and scrambles up to my shoulder, putting her head down and promptly falling asleep.  She makes me feel so needed and comfortable.  It breaks my heart to think that she won't do this for the rest of our lives.  A fifty year old woman falling asleep on her 82 year old mother's shoulder would seem a little odd, I suppose.

Today Is A Good Day

My day started at 4:30 in the morning when Jo woke up and for over an hour fought going back to sleep.  As I listened to her cry I could also hear the neighbors dog barking over and over and over again.  I wasn't sure which was more annoying but I briefly considered taking Jo over for a little "Which is more annoying" competition.  Eventually, once it hit 6:00 Marcus decided to go to work.

I think I fell back asleep but that was short lived as Alex woke up at 6:30 in her usual cheerful mood *sarcasm* and wondering why, for the millionth time in a row, her Dadda was not there.  I'm not sure why this surprises her every morning but it does.  In a move straight out of the Lazy Parenting handbook I broke out the Tablet and let her watch "Dora..." on continuous loop until I felt mildly human.  I then checked on Jo who had apparently worn herself out to the brink of exhaustion and was still snoozing peacefully.  Must be nice.

After checking on Jo I put the kibosh on "Dora..." only to discover that my lazy parenting skills had come back to bite me in the ass and Alex's diaper had leaked.  Now I had to change our sheets and mattress pad and get Alex cleaned up which totally ruined the game I play every day which is called "How long can I keep the girls in PJs before it gets ridiculous?"  After all of this Jo was awake and apparently she also conspired against me as her diaper had leaked as well.  So, I got Jo out of her crib, changed her, stripped her bed, and fed her which she promptly spit back up all over my outfit.  Eh, who am I kidding?  My "outfit" was actually my PJs and so Jo ruined my other game which is called "How long can I stay in PJs before it gets ridiculous?"  (Hint: It's only ridiculous if someone other than your children sees you in the PJs). 

As I was taking care of Jo, Alex humped her way across the floor and back again.  That's a new thing that we're not really sure how to address so for now I'm just going to ignore it.  Now, it's 11:00 and Jo is playing peacefully with the tag of a toy and Alex has passed out on the floor from too much humping.  I just smelled something suspicious and Jo is grinning at me and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like what I find when I pick her up.  Yet somehow, despite all of this, I feel rather at peace today.  Today is a good day.

Jo Is Six Months!

Josephine is 6 months old today.  My heart hurts saying that because it's gone by so fast and I know that the rest of my time with her will go just as fast.  She's the most delightful, happy baby and it's my belief she's going to be a handful once she is mobile.  She rolls everywhere and grabs everything with this mischievous look in her eye.  In fact, as I write this she has just ripped the band aid off her leg (6 month shots this morning) and is eating it.  Excuse me for a second...Most recently she's been up on her hands and knees then pushes off with her feet, throwing herself at her intended target.  I think Mimi was correct when she predicted Jo would be crawling two weeks from Easter Sunday.  Just a few more days and she'll be on the move, I'm sure.  Some things Jo does at 6 months that I want to write down for memory sake are:

1. She pants when she gets excited.  I love it.
2. She has rolls for miles.
3. Speaking of rolls, and as I mentioned before, she rolls to where she wants to go.  I put her down, walk away and next thing I know she's half way across the floor.
4. She screams and squeals like nothing I've ever heard.  It must be so that we remember she's around, though how could we forget?
5. Some of her nicknames are "Chubby Wubby," "Snooky Bottom," "Chub Chub," "Stinker Winker," "Pretty Girl/Baby," and "Chubby Cheekers" (get it?).
6. She loves watching Alex and laughs at everything she does whether it's dancing or just paying her some attention.
7. She has great control of her binkie and will either play with it or put it directly into her mouth...except of course in the middle of the night when she's crying and that's the only thing she wants.  Although, as of when I started writing this, I've since weaned her off the binkie.  She was growing too reliant and it was time to stop.  I guarantee you this was harder on us than it was on her.
8. Speaking of night time she almost sleeps through the night.  Last night she slept a magical 11 hours.  Typically it's 6 hours.
9. Her stats are as follows:  18 pounds 4 ounces and 27 inches long!  She will be Alex's size in no time.
10. She eats baby cereal and today we start carrots!  This little chunket is going to get even chunkier. 

She can also sit up on her own!

I'll Be A Copycat

There's a new Tumblr account taking the Internet by storm and it's all about why the user's son is crying.  In homage to that Tumblr I'd like to write down why Alexandra cried today:

1. She woke up.
2. Daddy wasn't here.
3. I'm not Daddy.
4. I didn't procure her milk fast enough.
5. I made her sit on the couch while drinking her milk.
6. I stopped her from crushing her sister with the rocking horse.
7. I don't know.
8. I don't know.
9. I don't know.
10. She's hungry and the 5 seconds it takes me to get her a snack is 4 seconds too long.
11. Her toy isn't working the way she wants it to due to user error.
12. From 5:00 on it's all because her Daddy is home who appears to be the light of her life yet the bane of her existence all at the same time.

Oh, yeah.  13. Because she wants to play with the very expensive camera and we won't let her.

Alex Fall Down

Please tell me I'm not the only one constantly body-checking her child into the wall, a piece of furniture, the floor...pretty much everything.  I mean, as it is Alex walks into walls or furniture on her own often enough so it's not entirely my fault.  Plus she weighs all of 25 pounds so one good bounce off my post pregnancy leg and she's air born.  Part of the problem is that this tends to happen when I'm carrying Jo and, God love her, can't see around her fat butt so then Alex gets underfoot and all hell breaks loose.

Today I was walking out of Jo's room carrying her in my arms and Alex was right at my feet as usual.  I'm not entirely sure how it happened but the next thing I know she's walked into my leg, bounced off it and gone face first into a sub woofer on the floor.  I immediately put Jo down and grab Alex only to be confronted with a bloody mouth and scraped chin and rather accusatory crying eyes.  While I feel terrible that I hurt her I can't help but wonder how many face plants have to be executed before she learns to stay at least a foot away from me when walking.  Let's just hope until she does learn to keep as far away as possible that the extent of her injuries can be fixed with a band aid and not a trip to the hospital.

Questions

Couple of questions for you:

Exactly how did that baby get in the tree top?

What kind of sh*t were they smoking when they wrote the cow jumped over the moon?  And can I have some?

Do all spiders exhibit such tenacity as the "Itsy Bitsy Spider?"

Can we all agree that George is less "curious" and more a giant pain in the ass?

Why do Dora and her little friend Boots insist on yelling everything they say?  It's like watching "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" but for toddlers and considerably less funny.

Does anyone else find it just a little disturbing that one of the little piggies is eating roast beef?  Granted, it's not pork but still...

I'm just as confused as you are JoJo.

The S Word

I'd like to preface the following with two things.  1. I tend to get frustrated quickly and easily and, 2. I tend to have the mouth of a sailor.  Therefore, the fact that it was I who taught Alex her first curse word should come as no surprise.

Marcus had been on travel for the previous 24 hours leading up to the event and Jo had been having one of her more miserable days in recent memory.  It seemed like she had cried all day long and by 8:00 at night my patience with her was wearing thin.  While Jo was busy being miserable Alex was due to be in bed and all of a sudden the day came crashing down on me.  While MANY words went flying through my head it was one that made it past my lips.  "SSHHHHIIITTTT!!!" I screamed.  The release of that one curse word immediately made me feel better but then I heard it.  Alex's tiny voice repeating after me.  "Shit!  Shit!"  Oh, f***.

Airing of Greivances

1. Windows 8.  What the fuckity fuck?
2. Any news reports, be they written or oral, that include Facebook comments as part of the "news."  First of all, talk about lazy reporting.  Secondly, I don't care what anyone's opinion of anything is.  Just give me the news.
3. Traveling from NC to VA and back again.  I hate NC.
4. Whenever technology doesn't work to the best of it's ability.
5. Since when has Easter become a second Christmas?  Why are people giving their children giant gifts at Easter?  It's bizarre and indicative of how materialistic our culture is.
6.  Not having batteries in the house and every single remote dying at the same time.
7. Having to watch reality TV on one of the twelve cable channels we get because of the aforementioned situation.
8. Feeling like I've lost control of everything.

Describing Life To A Toddler

There are so many caveats to teaching a child the ways of the world.  For example, shortly after we moved, Alexandra couldn't help but notice the massive helicopters flying overhead.  At first they frightened her and sometimes at night, as I was putting her to bed, she would hear them.  Her eyes would get big and she'd look at me as if to say "what the..." and I tried to reassure her by saying the helicopter was coming back to say "goodnight."  I don't think that helped.  Anyway, after a while she began to enjoy seeing them and now anything with a noisy motor is assumed to be a helicopter.  Also flying overhead quite often are Osprey (Marcus pointed out that some may not know what I'm talking about so click on the link if you think I'm referring to a bird...because I'm not).  Now, how do I explain those to my child?  They aren't a helicopter.  They aren't an airplane.  So, for now, they are also helicopters.

Another factor brought on by our move is the sound of mortars being fired at all hours of the day.  "Noise?" Alex says to which I reply "they're practicing."  Practicing killing people but practicing nonetheless.  I left that last bit out of the explanation.

Alex played with a Barbie for the first time and noticed the similarities in Barbie's chest and mommy's chest.  We agreed that both mommy and Barbie have breasts.  Then, Alex started playing with the Ken doll and pointed to his chest and said "breasts."  I said "No sweetheart, boys don't have breasts...well, some boys have breasts but they aren't supposed to."  That was probably too much information.

Today, we read the same book about a million times and each time at the end of it I would say "Spot is having his good supper" to which Alex looked at my quizzically and said "supper?"  "Yes, supper.  It's like dinner.  I think.  Well, if we were British I might know the difference."  That didn't exactly clear things up for her so we're just going to go with supper and dinner are one in the same.

I've never been known to keeping things short and sweet when I go to describe something and I realize that's a fault of mine.  I'll catch myself saying the same thing but in a million different ways and probably driving the listener crazy.  I'm probably going to do that to Alex and eventually Jo.  Well, naturally I'll drive them crazy, this is just one way I'm already aware of.

So Tired

Listen up girls.  When mommy doesn't go to bed until almost midnight every night because she has to wait to pump and then Jo wakes her up at least twice over the course of the night you really shouldn't expect too much out of her when you both wake up at 6:00 in the morning ready for the day.  I know this concept is foreign to you right now but in a few years you'll understand why mommy isn't exactly in a jovial mood and why she just sent Alexandra to her bedroom because she was whining and crying and mommy was about to lose her sh*t and thought it would be best for everyone if we all parted ways for a minute or two...maybe 30.

Alex's Second Birthday!

Alexandra is two!  For Alex's second birthday we had a beautiful kitty cake (courtesy of grandma) and ice cream with grandma, grandpa, Uncle Jonas, and Mimi.  Alex clearly understands the concept of presents which is sad because the innocence is lost forever.  Anyway, there isn't much else to say except I'll write down some of her stats below:

 

Weight:
25 pounds

Height:
33.9"

Teeth:
She has 12 teeth total.  I think she's missing about 8?

Hair:
It's baby fine but past her shoulders.  The bright blonde is growing out and it's growing in just a tad bit darker.

Words:
  Too many to count.  She's stringing three words together and every day learns a new word (though whether she understands its definition remains to be seen).

Favorite games:
Chase, hide and seek (though she's a horrible seeker and even worse hider), kicking and throwing her ball, "on your mark, get set, go!", playing with her toys, patty cake, peek-a-boo, dancing, and tickling are just a few of her favorites.

Favorite songs:
"Itsy Bitsy Spider," "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," and whatever music is playing that she can dance to.
Favorite books:
Olivia, Gossie, BooBoo, Fancy Nancy, Curious George, I Love Cats, anything that has flaps to lift and generally any book at all she will read.  And read.  And read.
Favorite TV shows:
I hate that she watches TV at all but after having JoJo it's become a small part of our day while I attend to Jo's needs.  Anyway, she loves Dora the Explorer and "Melmo" and Abby Caddaby.

We are working on:
Cleaning up after ourselves, using our words when we need or want something, being polite, not whining every time dadda shows up, and listening (she is slowly mastering the art of procrastination).

Milestones reached:
I'm sure she's surpassed her preemie status as she has extraordinary fine and gross motor skills, her language is right where it should be, she soaks up new information like a sponge, she can run, jump, kick and dribble a ball, and loves to go down the slide at the playground.  She's still a little thing and doesn't realize just how little she is but that's OK.  What she lacks in size she makes up for in her fearlessness.

Alex and her Elmo Balloon

Judgey McJudgerson

I'm a judger.  I judge.  I can't help it.  I like to think it's human nature but maybe it's my own human fault that drives me to judge others.  Since we've moved to the Jacksonville area I find myself doing it more and more.  One day I sat and watched and judged our pregnant neighbor across the street for smoking.  I judge the neighbors to the right of us for being bad dog owners by letting their dog bark it's head off at 7 in the morning.  Today, I'm judging the neighbors to the left of us for broaching an issue with our fence line in a strange manner.  The wife knocked on our door and prefaced the issue with "I wanted to come over here before my husband did because he won't be as nice about it..."  Before she could even explain what the issue was I had already judged the mystery husband as being an asshole if he couldn't be cordial enough to approach his new neighbors in a respectful manner.

I've since spent the rest of this afternoon missing my friends in Virginia.  We were spoiled, that's for certain.  Marcus and I surrounded ourselves with beautiful people inside and out and today I'm missing them all terribly.

Fernando

It is a gorgeous day on the beach.  The sun is shining as a light breeze caresses the palm trees.  The aqua ocean stretches as far as the eye can see and practically melds into the cloudless sky.  I take a deep breath and lay back in the chaise lounge.  I glance over the top of my sunglasses and see Fernando, the lithe, 20-something, Brazilian underwear model approaching with my pina coloda and bowl of grapes.  "Fernando," I say "Peel my grapes before feeding them to me this time.  I can't stand grape skin."  I close my eyes and relax as Fernando leans over me and one by one peels each grape and pops them in my mouth.  "Fernando, what is that smell?  Why am I smelling peanut butter?  What happened to the coconut oil I asked you to wear?"  I open my eyes expecting to see the lithe, 20-something, Brazilian underwear model named Fernando but instead I see the lithe, almost 2-something toddler Alexandra.  She is covered in peanut butter and jelly and instead of feeding me grapes she is systematically shoving goldfish down my throat.

And scene.

Changes

Please don't call Child Protective Services on me for what I'm about to say.  I can guarantee you that I would never physically harm my children.  I've come to realize that being a parent is loving your child with such intensity that you would die for them yet at the same time you feel like you could kill them at any moment.  In the end someone is dying and more than likely it's you because most of us are sane and wouldn't actually harm our children.  Or, maybe it's a little bit of your previous self that dies every day after having children and therefore less of a literal death.

Take me for instance.  I look in the mirror and wonder where the knock-out blonde from just a few short years ago has gone.  In her place is a brunette (recently dyed) who could care less what she looks like.  In a way it's sort of liberating not feeling like I have to dress to impress and no longer do I feel it necessary to wear a full face of make-up and cute outfit because "you never know who you might run into" when running errands.  If I've even made it into anything that doesn't remotely resemble sweatpants it's a good day.  If I put in my contact lenses it's an even better day.  And if I'm wearing make-up then there must be something really special taking place that day.  If I get to take a shower in the morning as opposed to the evening after the kids have gone to bed then I'm calling it a day because it doesn't get much better than that.  I suppose it's a good thing that my priorities have changed.  There are a few things I don't really miss like drinking my face off every weekend but I have to admit...I miss me.  The me I mentioned above.  The me who did care about what she looked like and wouldn't be caught dead with her glasses on and no make-up in public.  I like to think this is just a phase and as soon as I, and the girls, are more adjusted I'll find myself again.  Until then I'll be the one wearing pajama jeans and glasses at your local Wal-Mart.

Chunky Monkey

Our chunky monkey, aka JoJo, is 3 months old but we both feel like she's been here for longer she's such an integral part of the family.  At her check-up the other day she weighed 14 pounds 3 ounces and was 25 inches long.  I can't believe how big she is already!  For the most part she was very pleasant at the doctor's office.  She even gave the doctor a smile as she pressed on her herniated belly button to feel for the size of the defect.  However, the minute the doctor flipped JoJo onto her belly all hell broke loose.  JoJo was so desperate to escape the clutches of her perceived enemy that she was doing a commando crawl across the examination bed.  Of course this didn't help her in any way but the rest of us got a good laugh at her expense.  JoJo has also started reaching for toys and using her little fists to bat at them which is fun to watch.

Alex definitely loves her little sister though she can be jealous of her at times.  For the most part though Alex makes sure JoJo gets kisses all of the time and has even started to play with her a little more...though this mostly involves lying down next to her or sitting next to her since JoJo is still kind of just a little blob of a person.  It will be an exciting day when the two girls can play together.  JoJo is also very interested in Alex and watches most everything she does with great curiosity.  About a month ago I noticed JoJo noticing Alex for the first time which was so cute.  She just looked up at her smiling as if to say "Hey!  I recognize you!"

That's it for now.  I just wanted to give a little update on Miss Josephine.  She's blossoming into the happiest baby who is even letting us sleep, God bless her.

Must. Have. Caffeine/Alcohol

Little JoJo was baptized a week ago.  It was all a rather uneventful event though Jo cried almost the whole time and Alex took advantage of no parental supervision to walk up and down the center aisle sizing up her fellow parishioners.  Imagine a little blonde baby casually strolling the aisle and peering into each pew as if she's trying to determine whether this would be the pew for her to hang out in.  Imagine me, trying so hard not to laugh I'm crying, and wondering why one of the three sets of grandparents doesn't grab her.  Either way, we're lucky to attend such a wonderful church that nobody seemed bothered by her curiosity.  Of course, Marcus and I both question how much longer Alex will be able to get away with such shenanigans before people start to label her as out of control and us as poor parents.  I'm hoping for a few more years because as of this very moment there isn't much Alex will listen to unless it involves food and even then you may not get the desired response.

She's in the middle of the "terrible twos" though they started months ago.  I hate to admit it but she's absolutely frustrating on a day to day basis.  I'll be the first to admit Alex is me in a miniature version.  She has my personality and my quick temper.  Put the two of us together and add a bad mood on either of our parts and there is surely trouble at hand.  Our relationship is nothing short of bipolar.  Our good days are marvelously good but our bad days are by far the worst day of our lives.  I love her to death but Lord help me...there are days that I question why the f*** we decided to have children.

Marcus informed me the other day that he's given up alcohol and caffeine for the New Year.  My jaw dropped.  "But, how could you possibly do that?" I questioned.  He didn't really have a good answer for why he decided to do it but I can tell you this: Without the promise of a cup (or five) of coffee in the morning and a glass (or ten) of wine at the end of the day I wouldn't have much reason to live as the situation currently stands.  I don't believe the women who claim being a stay at home mom is the best "job" they've ever had.  I call bullsh*t on that one because I can tell you, the best job I ever had was the one I just gave up and it didn't involve fighting with a two year old (and losing) or changing diapers 100 times a day.  I'm sure I'll grow accustomed to this new found way of life but until then I'll continue my caffeine and ever increasing alcohol addiction thankyouverymuch.