Mar 24, 2010

the influence of sisters

The boys dragged the house out of the closet, set it up, and found Two Bits' dolls all on their own.  And then played happily for 30 minutes.  WITH BARBIES.

This horrifies my husband to no end.

I'm not so worried.

Most of their playing involved shoving the Barbies through windows, having them punch each other, or the occasional plummet down the elevator shaft.

And of course there's the inevitable boob comments when they came across the naked Barbies. 

(There's always a couple naked Barbies in the stash - it's how Barbies work.  Some of them just have to be naked.  You know it's true.)

So yeah, I'm pretty sure my boys are masculine enough - even if they enjoy some good Barbie time.

*Super Important FYI:   Growing up, my sisters never allowed me to play Barbies with them because "I didn't play right."  I couldn't help it if my Barbie never felt like making out with Ken in soap opera fashion.  I was much too busy throwing her down the elevator shaft.

Mar 20, 2010

good reasons to be agoraphobic

Sometimes it's scary to go outside because you never know when a flock of Canadian geese are going to fly over head.  Because, as you know, birds don't stop to use little birdy facilities.  They just let it go.  And who wants to get hit with projectile goose poo?  Not me.

Greasy non-washed hair looks so much better under incandescent bulbs versus sunlight.

All that natural fresh air out there is over rated.  Why breath that in when my children have fragranced our house so lovingly with the smell of poop and sweaty socks?  Plus, we live near-ish a dairy farm, so if the wind is blowing it's really more just a matter of which kind of poop you want to smell.  At least inside I have a Scentsy burner and an entire brick of "Skinny Dipping."

There are rabid wolves out there....somewhere in the world.

I might accidentally get a tan and then I'll have to buy an actual nightlight since my skin won't glow in the dark anymore.

But mostly...

I don't like to leave my house because I have to take all the kids with me.  And they are so much easier to manage when there are walls containing them.

Sometimes, if I actually venture away from my house, people will see me and say, "Wow, I haven't seen you in SO LONG."  And I say, "Yeah, I know, I never leave my house."  And then they laugh, because they think I'm joking.

It's not a joke.

There really is projectile goose poo and rabid wolves out there.

Mar 16, 2010

it's like mythology, but totally not

You know when, after you've eaten, your stomach can gurgle a little bit?  You know how most people don't really like other people to talk about those gurgles, because it's kind of awkward?  My husband missed that memo even though the rest of society seemed to get it just fine.

He really can't miss a good stomach gurgle without some kind of lame comment.  Because after 30 years of life, apparently he still finds digestion fascinating.

My years of marriage have given me some experience dealing with this (since, you know, he does it EVERY time.)  And instead of getting annoyed, or angry or embarrassed I've come up with something a whole lot better:

The Stomach Gods

So when I get a, "HOLY COW - was that your stomach?!!!" from Husband (who clearly feels comfortable reverting to 2nd grade amusements.) I just say, "The stomach gods are accepting my sacrifice." or "The stomach gods are angry."  Or sometimes I just roll my eyes - but that's not the point of this post.

Since this has been going on for years, there are now other parts of my body that are ruled by gods.  (Keep in mind, I don't really believe this, since I do tend to frown on sacrilege and all - the gods are more just a coping mechanism to living with infantile male behavior.)

I even have mental images of what these gods would look like, I will explain them to you now:

The Stomach Gods: You know all those obnoxious tiny men on the movie 'Willow' that wear animal skins and are always jabbing their little spears at things?  Those are exactly like my stomach gods.  And there's a bunch of them in there.  And they don't like to get along.

The Intestine Gods: These guys are wusses.  They don't like to work much, and are constantly complaining.  Of course most of their grumbling started after I had them horrendously smooshed by my non-stop pregnancies.  But still - get over it, and grow some muscles you pansies.

The Kidney Goddess: Clearly my kidneys are  ruled by a woman.  She's moody, and sometimes has full on raging tantrums that can end as quickly as they begin.  But most of the time, if I give her what she wants, she's happy enough.  And I'm really sure she has a legitimately reasonable excuse for her tantrums (as all women do.)

The Sinus Satyr: Things like sinuses are too small to get their own gods.  So my sinuses got a satyr instead.  This is clearly why they swell so much in the summer.  Because if hot, dirty goat hair doesn't scream "allergen" I don't know what does.

The Migraine Demon: Because I'm pretty sure they aren't caused by anything other than pure evil.  I have had the same headache for 4 days.  Sometimes it just sits in my head and waits to come screaming back at me with full force.  He is a wretched evil thing, that demon.

I probably could come up with some more, except that most of my other organs/body parts seem to work just fine.  So I guess not all of my imaginary gods are incompetent.  Just the ones that hate me.  Or the ones that Husband seems drawn to point out.

Mar 15, 2010

short trip

I'll be spending a whole week with my sister and her new baby at the end of the month.  But that seems like an eternity from now - you know how much newborns change in 2 weeks.

Last friday I pulled out my very best whining, bribery and incessant begging and guess what?  It worked.  Road trip (with two sick kids, but no biggy.) 

We got to spend a very fast weekend with my family, and I got to see my new niece.

She only has one head.  But it's a cute one.

I even got to take pictures of her, even though my sister was still in the hospital.  I can't wait until I go down again and I can play 'Crazy Camera Aunt Lady' again.  Just think, we'll have props and clothes and hats and DAYS to take pictures. 

And I'll get to hold her ALL I WANT.  At least that's my plan.

(If you want to see the pictures I took over the weekend, I put them on my dorky photog blog.)

Mar 12, 2010

my sister is a MOM

My sister had her baby last night!  A baby girl - 7 pounds 2 ounces and 19 inches long.  They named her Alexis.

I hear she's gorgeous.  I imagine that she is adorable.  And someone might even use the term, "Udderly Precious" to describe her.  Except that I really have no actual knowledge about how she looks, since no one has sent me any pictures of her yet.  She could have two heads for all I know.  But I bet they'd both be cute as buttons.

So do you want to hear the details?  (Of course you do, silly.)

I had locked myself in my bedroom and was waching Ugly Betty online.  It was a rough day - I'm perfectly entitled to locking myself in my room the second Husband walks in the door.

I was excited to see that my sister was calling me - it was like 8:30-ish.  "I think I'm in labor!" she says.  She told me about the caster oil she drank that afternoon.  She's a brave girl.

At about midnight she texted and said, "I'm in labor!!!" and it was real, actual, not going anywhere labor.  So then I got really excited.  But also nervous.  Because my brain doesn't think about normal things like, "Yay, a baby!"  because it's too busy thinking stuff like, "What if something goes wrong?!!"  My brain is horribly warped, I tell you.

I talked to my mom at about 1:30 AM.  She was at the hospital.  They broke my sister's water.  They gave her an epidural.  She felt like $5 million after spending the last 3 hours having contractions 1 minute apart.  (Plus my family likes pain killers - I'm not going to lie, pain killers are THE BEST.......ever.)

At 2:02 AM (yeah, I was way too excited to sleep) I got the text:

"They are doing an emergency c-section."  

Those are pretty much one of worst phrases you can hear when someone is having a baby.  Of course they aren't the only words, or maybe even the worst.  But they're bad.

I called.  My mom was scared.  I guess the drs and nurses were running, literally, to the OR.  I learned later that it was because the baby's heart rate dropped and wasn't coming back up.  It was serious.  They knocked my sister unconscious, they barely let in my brother-in-law to see the two minute birth.  I sat on the edge of my bed and crocheted really fast because I was distracting myself.

Twenty minutes later my mom called again.  The baby was fine, my sister was fine (albeit still unconscious - but fine.)  And we all let out a humongous, PHEW.

Then I went to bed.

And those are the details - from my point of view.  (Because that's where I was.)

And the second someone feels like sending me a picture I'll post it right here.  (And we can all find out if she has two adorable heads together.)

 Look how precious she is.  Told you - cute as buttons.

Mar 7, 2010


My little sister is having her first baby.  It could be anytime now.  ANYTIME.

Besides the birth of my own children, I have never been this excited for a baby to be born.

And it almost has nothing to do with the fact that I get to leave my kids for an entire week and help take care of my new little niece.  Although, yeah - a week away from my kids, WHOOOOOOOO!!

I keep texting my sister and asking if she's in labor yet.  She keeps texting back, "yeah, you totally missed it.  STOP ASKING ME THAT."  Because like any other woman waiting for labor, she's really tired of the anticipation.  And swollen feet.  And general, horrible uncomfortableness.

She did text me when she lost her mucus plug.  And I texted back, "Awesome, what did it look like?"  Because I never saw any of mine.  And then we talked to eachother about how you can say anything disgusting about pregnancy and people get excited, but in real life you'd never even mention the word mucus in any form of conversation.

My sister is having a baby!!!  Ack, I'm just so excited.  I can barely stand it........

Mar 5, 2010

things I cover in this post: Miss America, asthma, The Office and boobs

I'm hiding in my room.  Except that Monkey doesn't get the whole concept of "hiding."  Because he won't leave me alone.  He's handing me deodorant right now.  Yeah, thanks, I smell fine.  (Unlike some days....but what are you bringing that up for?)

I was just asking him to get his sister, since, being not quite 2 years old, she really ought to be semi-supervised.  On occassion.  Maybe.

As she walked in through the door I started singing, "There she is, Miss America..." in my best fake vibratic opera voice.  And Number Four put her hands over her eyes like they do when the newly crowned Miss America cries on stage and doesn't want her fake eyelashes to fall off.

I think Number Four and I make a good pair. 

Except when she's in her "Queen of the Universe" mood.  Because I've already claimed that role, and there just isn't enough room for two queens here.

Speaking of Number Four, does anyone have any good asthma home remedies?  She has Reactive Airway Disease and a cold that has lasted two weeks.  I went to the dr on wednesday and said, "Her airways are starting to swell again - I can tell it's going to get bad.  What can I do to prevent going to the ER (for the third time in two months)?"  And the Dr said:

"I've never seen a purple cow,
I never hope to see one.
But I can tell you anyhow,
I'd rather see, than be, one."

Ok, not really, but that was about as helpful as what she did say.  And so last night -exactly as I predicted- Number Four started having more serious breathing issues.  She was panting and lethargic.  But she wasn't blue, and she wasn't (audibly) wheezing.  So instead of taking her to an ER where they would have pumped more steroids into her (how many steroid treatments can one toddler take before growing a mustache?  really, I want to know) we stayed up most the night and did all we could for her at home.  And prayed that she wouldn't die during the few hours of sleep we actually got.

She didn't.

And here's to hoping we don't have a repeat of last night.  Unless, of course, someone out there has a brilliant suggestion we haven't already tried.  We have a nebulizer with albuterol, vicks, a super humidifier, ibuprofen, and a snot sucking bulb syringe.  Oh, and sometimes I make her eat peppermint candy canes left over from Christmas because I read online that peppermint tea was supposed to help.

Anything I'm missing?  Anything at all.  Just don't say steroids - I think she's had enough of those.

Did you guys watch The Office?  (I'm changing the subject.)

Pam had her baby.  I knew they were going to have a girl.  I'm psychic like that.  Just like Annie is having a girl, and CC is having a boy.  And That Girl, is totally having a boy - I'm getting strong feelings about that one.

Did anyone else find it massively hysterical that Pam nursed the wrong baby?  I don't know why, but that made me laugh like a lunatic.  (Possibly I'm just a lunatic.)  Oh, and also that the lactation consultant was a man.  Funny stuff, man.

I remember when I had Two Bits and the lactation consultant (who luckily wasn't a man) was trying to help by grabbing a hold of things and yanking/smashing/squeezing while I kept my hands in the air in a gesture of complete surrender.  Yeah....good times.  Pretty safe to say that I never again let a lactation consultant touch me.  Of course they'd always ask.  And then I'd take off screaming, "Get away from my boobs!!!!!" in a high pitched squeel.

Ok, Miss America is now parading in princess dress-up heels licking the snot from her top lip.  I should probably do something about that.  She's going to fall and break an ankle in those shoes.

Mar 2, 2010

on the thought of babies

You know the saying, "I'm like rubber and you're like glue...blah blah something about saying rude stuff, blah"? (I think I'm missing a few words in there, but the important ones are mentioned.)

Sometimes I feel like I'm the glue and my kids are rubber. No matter how many times I fling them from me, they just bounce back and stick (generally to my leg area, unless of course I'm sitting, and then it's a whole body free for all.)

Older mothers say, "But you'll miss this stage when it's over!"

And I say, "Yeah yeah...I know," as I push a diapered butt out of my face and detach a slobbering mouth from my shin.

I know my kids are growing up fast. And I know I will miss it.  Because honestly I love the baby stage best of all kid stages (although 2 & 3 year olds are a crack-up, but come with grown up poop and tantrums.)  And I no longer have a baby, Number Four is an official attitude-itious toddler.  Sometimes I fall into utter parental despair at the thought of never having another baby - therefore the option is deniably still open, because someday my body might let me. Plus, there's always adoption.....if we could ever afford it.  (See the denial?)

Except that it doesn't help this whole despair and denial thing when everyone on the face of the planet is pregnant.  (Or just some of you...)  My body is still going through pregnancy withdrawal.  When Number Four was born I hadn't gone more than 9 months in a row not pregnant or nursing (or both) in my married life.  Last month I had my 1 year anniversary of not doing either.


Never mind that I'm still just as fat as my early post-partum body started.  Because in every other way it's like everything in me is just expecting to be pregnant.  Sometimes I even get phantom baby movements in my gut, only to realize I shouldn't have eaten so much bean dip.  And some days I wake up nauseous only to realize that I have no reason to be, and therefore can't make up an excuse good enough to spend the day on the couch.  And I'm always making Husband buy me pregnancy tests "just in case" and "you never know" when really we do know, and there's really no "case" that would involve me becoming pregnant.  (Since, if I did, things would get pretty ugly health wise.)

But I do have to admit that I am also really enjoying not actually having morning sickness.  Or growing a larger stomach.  Or having to worry about things like preterm labor or tearing amniotic sacs.  Or sleepless, baby feeding, nights.  Or another kid in diapers when we just barely got down to only having two un-potty-trained children.  Or how we'd fit a fifth carseat into our minivan.

So it's ok.

Plus I have my slobbering, adorable, rubber-like children who can maul me when I'm feeling like another baby would make me happier.

Mar 1, 2010

flip flops and ponytails

You know about this, right?

Casual Bloggers Conference

I better see your head nodding.  Because OF COURSE you know about Casual Blogger Conference, AND you already have your ticket and have planned the shoes you'll be wearing that weekend.


More head nodding?

Yeah, I don't have my shoes planned.  I'm thinking I'll be in flip flop mode by then, so you can probably expect to see me there in something casual. 

You'll know me, because I'll be the fat chick with ponytails and flip flops.

I'm not sure which special guest I'm looking forward to most.  They all look really glamorous and important.  (Which will contrast really great with my chubby ponytailishness.)  I think I'm most interested in the photographers that are coming.  As in, not anyone taking pictures of me, but those who are teaching the subject.  Because anyone who takes a picture of me while at the conference will have to die a slow and painful death.  Either that or your camera will break.  Because I belong behind and not in front of a camera.  Trust me.  (Flip flops, remember.)

I think the most thing about Casual Blogger Conference I'm looking forward to is having a weekend away from my kids!!!  WHOOOOO.

And meeting all of you, of course.  (But that one was a given.)