Injury Report 1.29.13

Boy 1 took quite a tumble last night. He thought it was a good idea to use a baby hamper as a step stool in his room. It collapsed and broke in two, sending him flying back on the wooden edge of his daybed. It looks horrible. I sobbed after the incident, I was not the strong mother I should have been. I had to tape together 2x2 mesh pads to make one huge bandage for his back. This morning before school I gave him Tylenol to help with the aches and pains that I knew would plague him today. My mind has visited him several times today as I wondered how his day was progressing. Wonder no more...I just received a call from the school nurse. I thought it was because he was achy. As the conversation progressed it clicked...they are mandatory reporters. What they must have thought when they saw it....I cannot imagine. I told them what had happened, as did Boy 1. The whole thing just turned my stomach. I wondered what the teachers may have seen throughout the years. I mean his back is bad....really bad. How could someone actually DO this to their child or any child for that matter? Boy 1 was in good spirits in the background and come to find out he never even complained about pain.....he was being a typical bad ass little boy, showing it off to his friends. That kid.....I should have known when we took him to urgent care when he was 1 for stitches.....he ages me like no other.

Betty Crocker & Boobs

Today I decided to celebrate Monday. We are so quick to piss and moan when the dreaded day comes every week so I decided this week I would embrace it. After my daily dose of Subway, I headed to the grocery store around the corner. My heels clicked on the freshly polished floor as if stating "This woman is on a mission". I quickly snatched up a Betty Crocker cake mix, frosting and ice cream for tonight's festivities. I had opted for the hand held basket since I was only shopping for a few items. Well, we know how this goes....walking past the water aisle, I spied bottled water on sale. It was a straight shot to the check out so I had all the confidence in the world I could carry a flat of water in addition to the basket, flawlessly. Fast forward twenty steps....I looked absolutely ridiculous. I was panting, shedding a few dabbles of sweat and the once graceful silhouette of me now resembled Quasimodo. I was thankful as I saw a young man in the store uniform come to my assistance as I stumbled towards the self check out. He took the flat of water out of my jello-like arms and welcomed me with a warm smile. (Guys with glasses who help thirty-something women are pretty hot) As I scanned my items, he delivered a cart to me so I could transport my items out....without looking like a hunched back Disney character. Success! Ice cream is chillin in the work freezer and I cannot wait to get home and cook up a little Monday celebration with the kiddos.

On a side note......leaving the grocery store, I passed a tanning salon where a beautiful young gal was entering. I thought to myself "She has really nice boobs. I hope my daughter has better boobs than me." It's a scary place inside my mind, folks. Ladies with daughters and less than stellar racks......you get it.

Donut Fridays

I dread Donut Fridays. Each Friday, barring a bad behavior week, I take Boy 1 to the gas station on the way to work and let him pick out a donut and drink. This was an enjoyable event…before I had Baby Boy. Juggling a twenty three pound baby on my left arm and attempting to do all the necessary motions of our Friday ritual with the right hand, has made the once pleasant outing….a real hassle. I’d never let Boy 1 know that. I plaster a giant smile on my face as I begin my circus worthy act. Today he chose a chocolate iced glazed donut with red stripes on top and Sunny D. My mouth watered as I placed the donut in the bag. Its aroma entered my nostrils and intoxicated me. I, unfortunately, opted for a Special K breakfast bar. Once in route to school, he cheerfully kicked his feet and bobbed his head from side to side in rhythm with each chew. So even though my left bicep ached, my heart ached more to think of him grown. Married with children of his own, on his way to his high powered career as an attorney or a well respected doctor…he may follow suit and take his little ones for a special treat before school. It ached because time goes so quickly. In August he will be in Kindergarten and Hubs will take over with shuttling him to school. So, instead of making him put any uneaten donut back in the bag so we can get to school in a timely manner, we sat in the car while he finished the entire donut. Not worrying about getting to work on time, but living in the moment on this Donut Friday.

Serving Size and Bruce Willis Eyes

Well…barnacles!  (I swear constantly in Spongbobish) I frequently roam the aisles of Walgreens at lunch to not only kill time but to test my willpower. Today, I decided I needed mascara. No biggie…buy one get one 50% off….done and done. Then I browsed the Valentines aisle daydreaming of the chocolate covered fortune cookies  that I would like Hubs to get me on V Day and pondering what Valentines the kids would pick out to give to their classmates in a few weeks. I decided that I could safely visit the neighboring aisle to pick out a single serving treat for my afternoon at work. Although, I passed the single serving candy area and went right to the large bags of goodies. I stood there analyzing the nutritional content knowing that I could not adhere to the posted serving size. As I dusted off my mathematical skills, I began to beat myself up mentally as my willpower faded. Why? Why can’t I just eat a single serving? Why can’t I figure out when to exercise so I can indulge without the guilt? Why did my body bounce back within six months of the first two children…now…not so much? I wanted a sign, any sign. A svelte, long haired vixen with sky high heels that clicked as she waltzed by *CLICK *CLICK as if expressing *TISK *TISK in disapproval would have done nicely. But, no. The sign came to me in the form of a 50-some year old man with light eyes, short brown hair and a wise smile. He walked up to me and uttered to me… “Life is too short, enjoy a treat! I ate two apple fritters last night…have at it!” He had Bruce Willis-esque lines around his eyes as he smiled and winked. So who and the hell was I to argue with an attractive older man telling me to pamper my needs? I bought them. Hell, I bought two flavors because I felt so good.

Cold Cuts & Cell Phones

Lunch today was lots of fun! I have to admit seeing Hubs pull up outside my office window still makes my heart skip a beat. I am not trying to be that annoying person you know who gabs about how wonderful her marriage is all the time, because it certainly is not, but I learned a lot of lessons in my first marriage. I never take him for granted. I always try my best to look and feel great each day. I always put makeup on (whether just a few dabs for the au naturale look or full on sex kitten eye look). I always wear undergarments in good shape. I never let my personal hygiene lax. I always laugh at his jokes. I always make him feel appreciated when he comes home. Above all, I am humble. I don’t think that I am the best he can get or the only thing he can get. I make sure to show and tell him I am blessed to be his wife. I did not do that in my first marriage. To be fair, he was a dick and didn’t deserve me at best. Any who….he came today to accompany me to Subway. I was excited to see Phineas and Ferb bags for the Kids’ Pack on display and asked the owner’s wife if I could purchase one for Boy 1 who loves the show. She graciously gave me one, free of charge, to take home to what will be a very happy boy. After we ate, we decided to go to our cellular phone store and inquire about adding an additional line for daughter. Her father has purchased several phones for her throughout the years each from different phone companies keeping them for a period of time, defaulting on the bill and moving to the next sucker company. I did not think “Sorry (insert friend name here) you can’t call or text me. My Dad didn’t pay the phone bill this month.” Kids are cruel enough, she doesn’t need the BS of some snot nose middle schooler calling her names I cannot even fathom due to her father’s lack of responsibility. We were just going to look…harmless. I didn’t want to pay much because I was against the whole cell phone thing to begin with. Hubs took charge, though. We walked out of there with a nice camera / texting cell phone with a pretty purple case. All for her. With his seal of approval, although I was apprehensive. Taking me back to work he gives me two boxes of reeds for her clarinet he purchased for her today, also. I really hope she grows up one day to realize what an amazing father figure he is to her. If only she could recognize he is the constant in her life.

THERE'S A HUNDRED AND FOUR WAYS TO EAT AT SUBWAYYYY....WELL, THERE PROBABLY IS MORE.

NO YELLI...no yelling....the first 24 hours

Amazing milestone at our house....we have gone 24 hours with NO YELLING! That's right no GET YOUR SHOES ON!, no FINISH YOUR DINNER!, no GET IN THE SHOWER!, no PICK UP YOUR MESS!, no YOU USED TOO MUCH TOILET PAPER!.....just calmness. It was....unfamiliar territory. But nice....really, really nice. For some cosmic reason everything has fallen in to place. Every one ate or at least tried a good amount of their dinner. The kids calmly picked up the family room when told it was time for showers. Boy 1 used the facilities with a reasonable amount of TP. This must be how normal families live. Or is there such thing as 'normal'? I just hope it continues tonight we are a pretty cool family when we get along!

Grandpa's 90th...

Mom came over to visit me yesterday while I stayed home with the kids for MLK day. My scale has been out of commission for about a month now. I finally chucked it this week and have been itching to weigh myself so she brought hers over.  I had one of those dial scales and with my less than perfect vision I had a roundabout idea of my weight. That was sobering. She has one of those no-bones-about-it-it-is-what-it-is digital scales. I was pretty down and out about the whole thing. We decided to put in a DVD that was made for my Grandpa's 90th Birthday this weekend. After an hour of viewing and tears welled up in our eyes I thought about what I had seen. My Grandfather from birth-World War II-his career as a firefighter-children-grandchildren-great grand children....and you know what? That number on the scale meant a whole lot less to me. The photos, the moments in time captured....it didn't capture the upticks in weight, the facial blemishes, the 'I don't know how we are going to pay the house payment' days, the 'These damn kids are going to drive me crazy' days....it just captured, life. At it's best.

Shower Land

Some days you question your choices in home improvement equipment. You weigh between did I spend too much....did I buy too cheaply? Today I am thankful for purchasing the cheapest exhaust fan the home improvement store had to offer a few years back. It's loud. Like a jet plane taking off loud. It always kind of bothered me because I could not hear anything that was going on outside of the shower area. Hubs offered to watch the kids while I showered today and I have never been in such a blissful shower. The kids are in rare form, damn near homicidal to each other. With the flip of a switch (and of course knowing the husband wouldn't let any blood shed happen) I escaped into a far away land. Hubs and I laughed in beach loungers as the children played in the crystal blue ocean, splashing yet being considerate of others. I was ripped out of this wonderful fantasy world by the sound of Boy 1 entering the bathroom to play hide and seek from his sister. And here I am. Back to reality. I suppose it could be worse but judging by my shower vacay, it could be a whole lot better too.

Baby Boy's First Black Eye

The ticking time bomb known as Motherly Multitasking blew up big in my face this morning, or should I say Baby Boy’s. He was sitting up and I had one hand semi-bracing him just in case he toppled forward. My other hand was reaching for his winter hat so we could leave to go to school. My skills must have been weakened by my semi-there-hangover-from-one-glass-of-wine-before-bedtime and I felt his weight leave my left hand. Luckily I snapped back and took a hold of him in both my hands just as his forehead tapped the DVD player in front of him. He cried and got really, really pissed. No exaggeration, if looks could kill I would be dead. It was a little disturbing actually. I took a few moments and gave him lots of love, apologizing profusely. Then, we went though our morning ritual…same turns to school, walking Boy 1 to his class, finally coming to our destination which is the baby room. I set him down on the changing table to take off his bunting and there it was. Baby Boy’s first black eye. I was quite used to this with Boy 1. That kid had a head the size of a forty year old man on a fifteen pound body. He honestly looked like a bobble head, but to me he was beautiful. I felt so guilty. I always pride myself on getting two things done at once and there was failure staring right back at me all black and blue. So today I vow to not try to do so much at the same time. If the house isn’t picked up, oh well. If the laundry backs up, oh well. If I am late, oh well. Well….let’s just start with me trying not to multitask as much and trying to be more alert. Let’s not get too carried away!

Shhh......

One of the problems with today’s society is every one feeling the need to express how they feel, no matter what the effect on others. It starts out innocently enough….a less than glowing review of one’s cooking skills, a passing comment on one’s imperfections, or an off color joke at one’s expense. Through time that one critique, that one joke…it adds up. Of course, they do not realize it because it has been purged out of their brain file cabinet but to the hurt one…..it sticks. No matter how strong you are it is the equivalent of being buried one by one with bricks. So today I ask each of you to THINK before you SPEAK. 

These dreams...

Talk about disturbing. So I have confided in all of you that I have very vivid dreams. I swear, it is like living in a different body every night. Sometimes this is a good thing….like when Jesse Pavelka or Channing Tatum swoon over me (hold on…mental break…….ok) then there are the times where it is very bad. Last night? Very bad.

I was walking in a mall just north of the city I live in. It actually doesn’t even exist in real life. I needed my hair cut and I was desperately trying to find the new salon I had an appointment at. I was running late, family in tow. I finally found an employee and they escorted me around in an unsuccessful attempt to find the salon. (By the way….I am in dire need of a hair cut. I suppose that was a sign.) Just then, the air raids started to make a piercing loud cry. Every one ran for cover as we saw a train coming right for us. I took my family down a grassy hill to take cover. At the moment we were about to reach the dip in the hill, I looked back to see a gas bomb explode. I hit the ground and myself, my husband and my children rolled around in agony. My husband and I moaned that our scalps tingled in pain. I finally came to and knew I had to get help. I crawled up the hill to try and find a telephone to call 911. At that time, I saw the criminals that were responsible for this horrific act. They saw me and I thought they would kill me on the spot. I cried out to them that my husband and small children were at the bottom of the hill, dying, could they please come and help!? To my surprise they ran with me. As we came on to the scene dozens of bodies lay there. But Boy 1…..he was sitting ‘criss-cross applesauce’ amongst the massacre. My eyes went to Baby Boy who laid there lifeless. I shook him and to my amazement, he started to wake. My attention next turned to my daughter and husband. I put a hand on each of them and started to shake them with such force I felt a dull pain in my shoulders. I screamed “Wake up!!! Wake up!!!” to no avail. I sat back and sobbed. Oh how I sobbed. Boy 1 sat next to me and I cried out “Daddy will be her guardian angel!” Just then….miraculously……husband and daughter started to come to, coughing.

I woke up, with a jolt. I was disturbed. I was hoping this was not intuition of someone in the house in dire need. Luckily Boy 1 (who snuck into our bed at some point in the night) laid next to husband, both snoring in perfect harmony. I sat up in bed and peered into daughter’s room. I listened as she exhaled audibly, which became music to my ears. My thoughts turned to Baby Boy. Perhaps I left a blanket in his crib? Perhaps he stopped breathing for no apparent reason? I felt the blood drain from my face. I tried to talk myself out of such nonsense. I knew if I walked in his room the floor would almost positively creak, awaking him from a needed night of sleep. Just then, almost if out of a movie…..I heard a whimper. It was the whimper that maybe he too was having a nightmare. Just as quickly as is begun, it ended and the red lights on the baby monitor dropped back down to one. Still slightly troubled, I fell back in to an uneasy slumber.

Back from the Land of Ulta...

Call me a conspiracy theorist but I believe Ulta buys specialty light bulbs. They are not (insert number here) watts, they are your skin/ hair/ makeup/ clothes are a HOT MESS. I felt pretty good walking in, it was my first time, I was wearing my work gear. A nice pair of grey slacks, a curve hugging black sweater and my daily mix of silver jewelry. I felt my makeup was nicely set and although I have a few blemishes, Almay did a good job at concealing my secret. But no. Oh hell no. The minute my two inch black heels hit the perfectly waxed entry, I knew…I was doomed. The lights, the floors, the shelves, the employees, a fellow shopper (who had her hands full of products so I suspect she was a well paid secret shopper to get us schlumps to get all she had in her perfect toned arms)….it was all perfect.  And intimidating as hell. The gal was nice enough but with her baby soft skin and the fact that she was five inches shorter than me…I felt like the Acne Amazon Queen who came to Ulta Land to conqueror them. I just smiled and kept my head down for the most part. You know what that store needs? A greeter. And not a Stepford Wife….a regular run of the mill Iowa gal who for the most part in life has self esteem but sometimes struggles with her self worth and a pesky blemish from time to time. Kinda like…..well….me.

Hubby's Birthday!

40 years ago today, a truly amazing person was born. He hasn’t found a cure for cancer...he hasn’t been a Nobel Prize winner…he has just always done the right thing. He has never met a stranger...he always pledges to give 100% in all things...he always puts his family first, self last. He always forgives, always forgets. Amazingly enough…he chose me to spend his life with. I truly am a lucky woman. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WONDERFUL HUSBAND!

Middle fingers are soooo not funny....so why was it?

When you become a parent they always try to give you advice to navigate tough situations. It usually has to do with feeding, diapering and discipline. They don't tell you how to deal with a naughty four year old and a terrible mother who laughs at inappropriate situations...internally of course.

This morning while getting baby boy ready on his changing table, Boy 1 came over to say good morning...entirely too close. I asked him nicely (it was 6am so my mean Mom radar was at a 1 on a scale of 1-10) to please give personal space, and smiled. Just then Boy 1 gives me the middle finger. You thought childbirth was tough....try not laughing to a four year old's middle finger staring right at you. I know it wasn't supposed to be funny but for some reason it was. I held my own though. I was very stern and corrected the situation. I took husband aside and in private we had a chuckle though!

RIP Tooth Fairy

It was a great ride while it lasted…..

I understood that one day the secret would be out and with daughter being 10, we were on borrowed time. Yesterday she came home from school with another lost tooth in one of those super cute tooth chests. Husband did what he always does when she loses a tooth and hyped it up saying that the tooth fairy would come tonight while she slept. She confided in him that no one at school believed there was a tooth fairy and she thought they might be right. Of course, husband tells me later that night and I grieve internally. Wasn’t it just yesterday I held her in the hospital as the sun shined on her bald head and I thought to myself….what in the hell am I going to do with a baby?! Wasn’t it just yesterday we battled sleepless nights of teething, giving up the bottle, baby food, that scary but exciting transition from baby clothes to the ‘T’ sizes? Wasn’t it just yesterday that I had to hold a crying two year old and try to explain to her why Daddy walked out on us? But it wasn’t. It was yet another monumental moment in her life that I had to put on my adult thinking cap and carefully navigate the situation. As I approached her this morning to see if she checked under her pillow for the tooth fairy (who left her $1) she seemed apprehensive but did so any way. I asked her why she seemed out of sorts. She then told me that they were discussing the tooth fairy in class and the teacher asked if any one believed. She was the only one to give a delayed answer of no. So I told her that while she sleeps after losing a tooth someone does come in and deposit that dollar under her pillow. I asked her with a smile who she thought it was. She looked me in the eye and said “Cleo”. My heart broke as Cleo is our recently deceased family cat of 13 years. I said to guess again….she had no idea. I then stated that her tooth fairy is her step father. Her eyes got as big as saucers, amazed that it was him. I then proceeded to tell her that we do not want to tell her younger brothers about it and maybe she could be their tooth fairy when they lose teeth. She was very satisfied with that answer. I know Santa is next….and the Easter Bunny, but I didn’t want to lose too much of her innocence this morning. There is always tomorrow to tell her…or the next day…or the next day……