Confession

Sometimes I do things that I know will upset Alexandra just so she can learn to get over it.

A Brief Glimpse Of Florida

We recently returned from a very nice family vacation in Florida.  We unintentionally took Alex to the Magic Kingdom for her 3rd birthday (unintentional because it was a last minute decision that just so happened to correspond with her birthday); ventured around some sort of aquatic preserve that thankfully we got in for free because I can't see how they can possibly justify the $12 price tag; and took the girls to the Jacksonville Zoo which was just amazing.

The house we stayed in was amazing as well and had a pool with hot tub facing the green of a golf course.  I was more than a little anxious the first day we were there when Marcus opened the sliding glass door and both girls began flitting about the outskirts of the pool.  Josephine is a proficient walker but she made me so nervous with her sometimes wobbly steps and propensity for falling.  "Marcus, isn't she making you nervous, she's making me super nervous!" I said to which he replied "If she falls in I'll go in after her."  At this point I decided it was best for my anxiety and blood pressure to go back into the house because standing around waiting for the inevitable was killing me.  And, yes, the inevitable did happen.  Not but a few minutes after walking into the house a soaking Josephine and half soaking Marcus were standing at the door asking for a towel.  At least, as Marcus's brother pointed out, Marcus did what he said he would and rescued her.  Yeah.

Another aspect of the house was the girls slept slightly farther away from us without the aid of a monitor.  We figured if anything happened we would certainly hear them crying and boy, did we.  On the second night, the entire house awoke to screams of panic:  "MOMMY!  DADDY!!  DADDY!!!!" accompanied by blood curdling screams.  Upon first waking I thought it was our nephew who is 9 months old.  Then, I thought it was Josephine at which point I was ready to completely ignore her.  Then, I thought, wow, Jo sure can enunciate "mommy" and "daddy" really well all of a sudden.  It was at that point I realized it was Alexandra.  (In my defense, it's so uncharacteristic of Alex to wake like this it truly took me by surprise...and especially in the middle of the night.)  Anyway, I imagine Marcus went through the same mental process because once he figured out it was Alex he bolted out of bed and went running.  Apparently she had either falling into/sleepwalked/we really don't know what the hell she did but she had made her way into Jo's pack-and-play which was right next to the king size bed Alex was occupying.  King size bed.  How the hell did she manage to get herself into a position that eventually found her in Jo's tiny a$$ pack-and-play?  It would be like me walking through a pair of open double doors but managing to still walk into the door jamb (or something like that).  Despite her distress, and I felt really bad when I did, but I laughed. 

Overall, the experience was great.  Alexandra, who has a propensity for going berserk (i.e. have complete, and total breakdowns at the drop of a hat) in new settings, was able to keep it in check until the last day or two of our stay.  Josephine seemed to enjoy herself and had only one or two meltdowns that I can recall.  Believe it or not, I'll call that a success! 

Curses (Rated R, Possibly NC-17 For Language)

Does anyone realize how God damn fucking hard it is not to fucking curse around kids?  Really fucking hard.  On the bright side I have been able to stop dropping the f-bomb like a mother fucking boss and now tend to say "frick" which makes me feel like the blonde chick from Scrubs.  Shit has successfully turned into "sugar" though the force with which I say it should constitute it as a curse word.  I was never really one to use the word bitch or ass so those have all but disappeared from my lexicon.  Unfortunately, however, I have picked up using some other, less desirable words like "dumb-dumb" which escapes my lips frequently.  It's not necessarily a bad word but it is mean.  I even used it with Josephine one day when she was about to launch herself off a two foot high ledge.  I did feel bad the second I said it.  Other highly frowned upon terms such as the highly despised God damn and Jesus Christ are new language developments for me and, unfortunately, frequently used in the presence of the girls though usually when they're doing something idiotic like an alligator death role as I'm smearing diaper rash cream on their ass butt.  But God damnit, does anyone know what it's like to have white diaper rash cream get everywhere because your kid is acting like a fucking dumb-dumb?  It's a fucking son-of-a-bitch to clean it up and the rest of the day is spent smelling like a medicine cabinet.  Oh, well.  Some people are absolute saints when it comes to this shit but not me.  It's too God damn hard.

Bathroom Humor

Marcus complained to me the other day about the girls barging into the bathroom while he was using the toilet and how uncomfortable it is for him when they stand on either side of the toilet and watch.  I agree, that would make for an uncomfortable moment especially because they have a habit of just standing there and staring, not blinking.  Plus, being Marcus is a dude, accurate aim is everything in this case.  However, I feel little to no sympathy.  Uncomfortable?  Trust me, you don't know uncomfortable until you've used a tampon with two extra pairs of eyes watching.  Then try and explain what a tampon is to a 3 year old by answering hard hitting questions such as "Are you going to put that in your butt?"  I don't want to hear it.

Mini Rant

I have a girlfriend who is going through the woes of early infancy.  Of course I mean she has a brand new baby, not that she herself is an infant....just to clarify.  Anyway, the baby sounds a lot like Alex in that they both share(d) a fondness for keeping their parents up for hours during the middle of the night for no apparent reason.  So, as many frustrated mother's are known to do, my girlfriend took to Facebook to vent her frustration thus the reason for my frustration.  Although I should specify it is not frustration with my girlfriend but with one asinine comment she received in reply.  The comment basically stated to love every minute of that hours long sleep deprivation in the middle of the night because one day you'll look back fondly and miss it.

Sorry, girlfriend, you won't.  What you will look back on in wonder is how you made it through without murdering anybody.  You'll look back in amazement at how you felt you could run away and never look back only to come out of it relatively unscathed.  You'll be absolutely perplexed how you didn't drink yourself into oblivion or self-medicate to get through it.  To the people who respond with such ridiculousness you must be (or had been) pretty well medicated to think that the first three months of nighttime torture, aka the newborn stage, are anything but.  To tell a new parent such is equally ridiculous and they probably know you're lying anyway so why not just give a friendly pat-on-the-back and move on.

Congratulations! Life Is Going To Suck!

A few friends of mine have recently either just given birth for the first time or announced their first pregnancy.  Every time I hear their happy news I am over the moon happy for them.  All of these women have been a part of my life for so many years that it's a natural reaction.

What I haven't quite figured out, though, is whether or not the reason I'm so happy for them is because I will have one more soul to commiserate with over how sh*tty parenthood can be.  I won't deny I am thrilled that they will get to enjoy the more wonderful parts of being a parent such as when your two year old sniffs your neck and whispers sweetly in your ear "You smell like peanutbutterjelly."  But I also won't deny that I look forward to the day when I see their child acting the fool my own does and all I can do is smile, shake my head, and say "Ah, I see so-and-so is at "that" stage of childhood" and then sit back and talk about all of the things we could be doing if it weren't for the existence of our spawns.  Admittedly, those things generally revolve around merely sipping wine in peace but that's because I've lost all ability to think of anything more cool than that.

Children are difficult.  Obviously.  This Blog wouldn't have continued to exist if they were easy (and if I were slightly more stable).  When they're newborns you're left wondering why the baby slept all night the night before but then wakes up every two hours the next night.  When they become toddlers you're left pondering many a toddler mystery such as why did they start flipping out when I said it was time for lunch?  I haven't made it out of toddler-hood just yet so I'll be sure to add more to the list but for now, that's enough.

In the end, I am thrilled that some of my closest girlfriends are joining me in the never ending quest to figure out why the hell we decided to have children.  I just hope they are as equally unstable as I am because I wouldn't be able to stand it if they actually enjoyed motherhood, pfffttt...

New Year, New Post

I suppose there isn't a better way to start the New Year than by posting a new blog about the New Year.  Or, New Year's Eve specifically.

The evening began rather innocuously.  We had been invited to a kid friendly New Years Eve party so, around 5:00, we made our way over with kiddos in tow.  About 15 minutes after arriving I was regretting that decision as at least half a dozen children ran screaming through the house.  Luckily, our hostess was on top of things and dinner was served very shortly thereafter which brought immediate silence.  A second luckily was that the house was stocked to the gills with alcohol so those who weren't DD could silence the children in their minds.  What?  Yeah, I said it was a kid friendly New Years Eve party.  In our group that means at 8:00 the kids get to ring in the New Year then go to bed while the adults continue to have fun.

With that being said, we opted for taking the girls home rather than staying through to midnight to avoid being on the roads with crazies and to avoid trying to get the girls to sleep in a strange house only to wake them a few hours later.

So, by 9:30 our girls were in their "own" beds (technically we've been staying at my in-laws for the last two weeks) and Marcus and I were hanging out when his parents came in from their own New Years Eve festivities which entailed the local town's celebration aimed towards families.  On a whim (perhaps a slightly drunken one) I convinced Marcus to take the passes his parent's purchased and go check it out because I, in the 20+ years living in this town, have never made it to the local celebration.  Grudgingly, Marcus agreed.  I think he had already been once before so knew the disappointment that lay ahead.

Needless to say, without saying a word (is that redundant?), Marcus was right and after about half an hour we decided to go home and made our way back to the car.  Marcus thought it would be fun to see how the other half lives (i.e. those who were partying hard at the local bars) and we took the long way to the car passing bars as we went.  As we passed one place in particular we saw a friend of ours serving and decided to pay him a visit despite the fact it was packed.  What we failed to notice was the place was packed with cougars and it wasn't until we had drinks in hand and a place to sit that we took a good look around and realized we were greatly outnumbered.

There is nothing more exhilarating than seeing a pack of cougars in action.  One group of ladies in particular really caught our eye and we watched them with great interest.  All were dressed for an occasion far fancier than a New Years Eve celebration at a local bar/Italian restaurant.  In truth, they all looked fabulous but I suppose that's what sets a cougar apart from others.  They all sipped their drinks as they shimmied but only slightly for fear of losing their spot at the bar.  As I leaned-in to give our bartender friend a kiss over the bar I felt all eyes on me, probably trying to ascertain who the poorly dressed ruffian was moving in on their territory (in truth, I was dressed to be outside not in a bar competing for man flesh).  I think they quickly wrote me off when our friend gave Marcus (in his well worn Virginia Tech hoodie) a jovial handshake and realized I was not a threat as I was there with an equally poorly dressed partner.  Later I regretted not sending Marcus into the fray to see what constitutes cougar prey.  Next time.

As the midnight hour struck Marcus and I gave each other a quick kiss then turned our attention to more important matters like how the cougars had somehow found the youngest guys in the bar to suck face with.  They were questionably making out with the busboys but my judgment was skewed by this point in time and really, the idea of these well-dressed 40 something's sucking face with busboys is way more entertaining than what I'm sure is the truth.

Suffice to say, these poorly dressed, parents of two toddlers decided that midnight was late enough and we eventually made our way to the car and home.  I learned a lot that night.  One:  Cougars get what they want.  Two:  Despite the fact I wasn't dressed like a Robert Palmer chick I apparently still have the ability to make others uncomfortable with my awesome presence.  Then Marcus comes along and ruins it.