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.