Oh, Fudge!

Well, it finally happened. One of my kids used a curse word and I know full well where they got it from. First of all, it might surprise you to know that it wasn't Colin, it was Maddie. She didn’t learn it from her dad, she learned it from me. Yeah, I guess based on the name of this blog and my reputation of swearing like a sailor it isn't that big of surprise.

I keep hearing that PSA from the ‘80s where the dad walks into his son’s bedroom with a cigar box of dope and demands to know “who did you learn this from?” And the boy half cries and half yells, “I learned it from watching you!”

Those commercials must have made an indelible mark on me since that is the second “Say No To Drugs” commercial I have referenced in my blog. Granted, my kids are not smoking dope and if they did, they certainly wouldn’t learn it from me, but seems everything I do definitely leaves an impression on them.

So, I am sure you are all dying to find out what word she uttered. Well, it was relatively benign, but was inappropriate and stopped me in my tracks none-the-less. She was innocently sitting at the kitchen table finishing her apple while I was cleaning up after lunch and preparing to get ready to leave the house to run errands. Suddenly the apple slipped out of her hand and landed on the floor. “Awe, DAMMIT!” she yelled. My little “mini-me” could not have sounded more like me at that moment. I had to be careful of how I handled it since in all reality she had no idea what she was saying was wrong. I told her that I know she has probably heard me say that word, but that it is not an appropriate word for her to use.  I also explained that I need to be more careful of "naughty" words that I use.  If I were my own PSA, it would have had me talking to my 4 year old with a giant "hypocrite" sign on my forehead.

In my defense, I do my best to curb my potty mouth around my kids and wait to drop f-bombs until after they go to bed or when I am out with adults. I’ve caught myself unleashing my inner truck driver once I get around adults, especially after a few adult beverages. It is a little embarrassing when even I notice I am swearing too much and feel as if I need to take myself home and wash my own mouth out with soap.

However, “dammit” is one that I end up slipping up on around the kids, especially because I am a super-klutz and end up dropping things, making messes, tripping, ripping things, braking things etc.. The first word out of my mouth is dammit. Then there is my incurable road rage that usually results in an even worse, “God Dammit! Will you please drive your car!!!” Hey, at least I said “please!”

I’ve been lucky up until this point that not only have I been careful not to swear in front of the kids, but that they haven’t picked up on it until now. I have caught myself saying something under my breath when I am really upset and Maddie simply asks, “Mom, are you talking to yourself again?” or I am good at replacing swears with creative alternatives like “Gosh darn it,” “Oh, phooey,” or “Oh, for the love of Pete!” Tonight at dinner I spilled an entire cup of water all over the floor and due to my new attitude, caught myself and said, "Awe, CRUD!" Of course I do push the limits by saying, “Are you f-ing kidding me?” or “Jesus Christ on a cross!” but to me those are inappropriate either way and use them only in case of an emergency.

Unfortunately, I have also noticed that they have picked up another bad habit of mine, yelling. Maddie is the worst offender and I often find myself yelling at the top of my lungs, “MADDIE, STOP YELLING AT YOUR BROTHER!!!” I also have a short fuse and she has inherited my Irish temper. During these moments I know I sound like my grandmother who was infamous for her “screaming like a banshee.”  I also find it difficult when she says, “Mom, aren’t you going to get what I asked for you to get me?” When I am constantly saying, “Madelyn, aren’t you going to do what I asked you to do?”

So, it is time for me to clean up my act and my language. It really is hard work being an adult and expect your kids to behave when you yourself don’t always behave. I guess the upshot is that there are plenty of good things that I have seen my kids do that I know are a direct reflection of Tom and myself. Maddie has a phenomenal memory like I do. I also have been told that she is polite at other people houses since Tom and I drill it into her head since the one time her memory fails is when she is supposed to say “please or thank you” at home. Colin is very witty as I like to think of myself and despite his “aggressive ways” he is a lover boy like his dad.  They eat healthy and like to exercise and Colin even does yoga.

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times, they listen and see EVERYTHING you do, and as my grandfather always said, "you’d better mind your P’s and Q’s.

Check Out "Adventures of Smitty" by Anna Deskins!

I recently came in contact with a talented mother who is publishing a childrens book called, "The Adventures of Smitty."  In the spirit of promoting another aspiring writer, mom and entreprenuer, I wanted to share some information about her and where you can find her book online.  Be sure to check her out!!!

Your children's book, The Adventures of Smitty looks magically. Tell us about it.

It's the story of a magical island of little creatures called Smilies and the mischievous little main character, Smitty. He's such a naughty boy. Haha! All the moms and kids I've shared it with have been giving me such a wonderful reaction. I cannot believe it. I have to tell you how excited I am to finally have a life-long dream come true. Writing The Adventures of Smitty was really about finding a story that I would want to read to my children at night. It has to be exciting but not scary so that my two daughters can go to sleep. Basically, I was looking for that perfect blend to read to my kids at night and decided, "Why not try writing my own?"

We've had a lot of changes in our life recently, so I want to make sure that when I put my daughters to sleep that they feel safe. I have short chapters because I know how busy we moms are but if you can just sacrifice 5 minutes at night reading to your kids, it makes a world of difference. Your kids will never forget it. And although we're running around the whirlwind of life, our kids grow up so fast, and that time that we'd rather finish watching what happened in our favorite soap opera instead of reading to our kids will never come again. I hope that The Adventures of Smitty and books like it help moms do exactly that.

And it's only 99 cents this week. That's what I love about it.

Now, You are recently divorced. How have you been able to continue writing when going through such a change?

Yes, it is by far one of the most challenging points in my life. To see a marriage you thought would last forever to not last forever was difficult for the two of us. I really learned a lot about myself and most importantly, it's brought me closer to my daughters. I think that's what really motivated me to finish this children's book no matter what. When you're going through changes in your life like this, you need something to hold on to. There's a part of you that wants to prove that you can make it, that you will be a success even if it's not with the partner you originally imagined building a life with. I had to keep writing, for my kids. I want to show them that they have to keep strong, no matter what.

We as women, as moms really need to stick together to support each other and our dreams. We're living in an age when I think we're finally realizing, although we want love, the men in our life aren't the answer to everything. We have to stand up on our own two feet and keep going. True love will happen, but until then, we have to keep moving forward. Our children depend on us and we depend on us.

In addition to being a children's book author, you're also a small business owner. How do you juggle taking care of two daughters and at the same time running a business?

Yes, I am a fashion designer and have a retail store. Any type of creativity is what I'm passionate about. That's why writing The Adventures of Smitty was so important to me. Let me tell you, running a small business in today's economy isn't easy especially when raising two girls at the same time. But somehow, it seems someone's watching over me because my dreams are coming true no matter what. To have that many moms glowing about my children's book, means so much to me. And I know my girls are proud.

When do you ever have time to write?

You mean, in between laundry, running a business, chasing my girls around the house, cleaning the house, and flying back and forth fromMiami to New York? Haha? That's one thing I've learned, when you really want to do something, you find a way. Things fall into place if you just go for it and that's what I want to encourage all the moms who are reading this right now. Whatever your goal is, you can do it. Don't let the challenges in your personal life stop you from going for your dreams. Just go for it and it's almost magical how things fall into place.

Where can we get a copy of "The Adventures of Smitty"?

Right now, it's available online by going to: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/94655 You can also visit my website:http://www.AnnaDeskins.com where you can read more about my writing process, my recommendations for other books and my own adventures in Mommyhood.

I'm so grateful for your support and the support I'm getting from so many wonderful moms who dream of writing children's books one day too. Writing The Adventures of Smitty has been such an emotional experience for me, a true journey as I was going through so many changes while writing it. It's truly been a blessing in my life. It, along with my daughters, and that guy upstairs have really pulled me through a challenging time.

No, I Am Not Bozo the Clown

I recently had someone bring to my attention that there is a blog out there with the address http://writethisshitdown.blogspot.com. After this person asked if I was “Bozo the Clown,” I was a little puzzled until they directed me the site.

Just to clarify, my address is http://writethishitdown.blogspot.com (the “s” from this is shared with “s” from shit). If you go to the “other blog” you will see the author’s name is bozotheclown and after reading his entries, I can see why.

I have to admit, I don’t really read a lot of other people’s blogs. I have a hard enough time keeping up with my own. I took the time to read 6 or 7 of this guys entries and I couldn’t understand what the point of his writing was except to swear a lot. I know I am vulgar, but this guy makes me look like a Puritan! I am all for freedom of speech and all, but I am sad that I call myself “a blogger” when I read what other “bloggers” are writing.

I recently saw someone quote, “Blogging is graffiti with punctuation.” I was a little hurt, but I get it. I have done some research through some of the other sites I post my blog to and it gives advice on how to create a successful blog. One of the suggestions was to post at least 3 times a week. I am lucky if I post 3 times a month. I am sure that some of my posts are meaningless to some. Some people don’t find my writing humorous or my kids antics entertaining, but I do aim to post things that are relevant and wait for something “worth” writing rather posting just to post. I know that if I aimed to post several times a week, I would likely discuss the most inane things that I am SURE NOBODY would want to read. Subjects like how my laundry detergent just doesn’t get my kids’ clothes clean, or the amount of dust bunnies has increased because my dog is shedding more than usual, or I have no idea what to make for dinner today, or Hey, guess what I found under my couch today! Riveting, I know, but I will spare you the details.

I also have a lot of opinions I could write about, but I’d rather keep those to myself or argue with my husband about. Keeps things exciting over here. Finally, there are plenty of things I’d love to write about but know that they just involve TMI. I know some of you probably are shocked to hear that I don’t consider some of what I have already written TMI, but I promise you I am holding back…at least a little bit.

OK, so that was my Public Relations degree at work. I have put a message out clarifying who I am (not Bozo the Clown) and what my message is. I have also established that I will likely never be a famous blogger based on my blogging philosophy, but I enjoy writing what I write, when I write and I am comforted knowing that there are at least a few people out there who enjoy it too.

Nap Nazi Part 3:No Nap For Me

What do you get when you cross a control-freak with a four-year old and two-year old who won’t stay in their beds? Surrender.

Well, it is Colin again this time, but Maddie sure isn’t helping the situation. Colin has decided that he wants to play games with us at bedtime as well as naptime, and will do anything to push his limits. We are practically at square one with putting him in his big boy bed. We lay him down and read his books, say our prayers and say “Goodnight.” As I mentioned in previous posts, we have contraption on his door that is supposed to allow him to open the door only 2 inches, but he pushes right through it. We put a door cover on the door knob, but he started to bust it open and then hide it in his drawer, in the garbage or under his bed. I put some Gorilla Tape on it, but when he saw the black tape on there he wigged. He finally gave up and went to sleep, but the next morning he woke up still sore that I would have done such a thing to him. He even brought it up later in the day when I was yelling at him about something else and he asked with tears in his eyes, “Now can you take the tape off my door?” I felt so guilty I removed it and sure enough he ended up in my bed at 3 a.m. We super glued it together and he busted that open and luckily he didn’t glue himself to anything in the process.

Tom finally strategically placed the Gorilla tape on all the seams in smaller, less obvious strips. It looked like something out of the Modern Art Museum and for all intents and purposes, might as well be on display somewhere, because it didn’t work. Colin figured out how to turn the door knob in spite of the cover and in spite of us.

So, now we are left with the cat and mouse game where we shut the door and he cries. He jimmies the door and escapes with a big smile on his face celebrating his achievement. We put him back to bed and say “goodnight.” Before we can make it down the stairs, he is there again laughing at us. This time we yell a little, “Go to BED!” He runs back into his room and hops into bed giggling. I finally sit down on the couch ignoring the sound Click, Click sound of his door latch and then him playing with a truck in the hallway hoping he will finally give up. Then we hear Maddie screaming because Colin is in her room reading books on her floor. We separate the two and put Colin back into his bed with a book and give stern orders to “GO….TO….SLEEP!”

Within two minutes we see him at the top of the stairs. “Mommy, will you sleep with me?”

“No.” I retort.

“Please, come upstairs?”

I walk up the stairs and he jumps into bed, shuts off the light and then puts his arm around my neck and proceeds to tackle me into the bed to lay with him. I am not kidding you when I say that he is stronger than me. I finally give up and lay with him until he falls asleep. If we are lucky he will then sleep through the night, but in several cases he ends up in our bed in the middle of the night. The other night I awoke to an usual figure at the side of my bed. He had taken his hamper that we use for stuffed animals and put it on his head and walked into our room. There were still animals in it and he then unloaded all of them into our bed. I walked him back to his room (glancing at the stairs realizing how lucky we are he didn’t fall down them with that thing on his head!) and lay with him until we both fell asleep. I woke up sweating and really uncomfortable at about 5:30 a.m.

After about 2 weeks of a bedtime routine like the one I just described and miserable sleep, I was running on empty. These are the days I try to take full advantage of nap time and lay down myself. Ah, no such luck. In addition to his nighttime shenanigans, he has decided that he doesn’t need a nap and would rather play with Maddie. After battling him to lay down each afternoon, I finally gave up and had he and Maddie lay in my bed and watch a movie hoping he would zonk out. He did, but not until 3:00…much too late for a nap and pretty much guaranteed that bedtime would be a bitch.

I even took him for a run one day when Tom was home to see if I could get him to doze off. It worked, but he still only got about a 45 minute nap. While the days he doesn’t take a nap make him pretty much pass out at bedtime, he also acts like a total a-hole from 4 to 7:30 p.m. Add on the fact that I’ve started a part-time work-from-home job, I REALLY need him to take a nap. The other day, I set him and Maddie upstairs in my room for a movie while I had a conference call. My hope was that he would fall asleep, but he came trotting downstairs about a half hour in. He played quietly at his train table and I thought he had gone upstairs when Maddie came down and found him sleeping on the floor just out of my sight. (Luckily my call was with another mom who totally understood!) Maddie was nice enough to cover him with a blanket and I put a pillow under his head. Clearly he is tired, but does this mean he is growing out of his nap? I know some kids grow out of them sooner rather than later, but Maddie is four and still takes naps sometimes. How did I get here? How did I go from being a “rule follower” to letting my kids fall asleep watching TV or on the floor in the middle of the family room for Christ sake! Do I force the nap or let him crash? I don't want them falling asleep at dinnertime because then they will never go to bed.  I feel like a "Nightmare on Elmstreet" movie making sure they don't fall asleep.  Either way, my days are like years right now.

The next day, wanting to avoid letting the inmates run they asylum, I tried as hard as I could to be consistent and put him down for his nap. After a half-hour battle, I gave up so I could get some work done. He ended up in Maddie’s room to play with her. Of course at 4 p.m. he found a comfy spot on the family room floor with a blanket and pillow and fell asleep. I woke him up at 5 p.m. for dinner and he screamed and cried for the next 2 hours, including a trip to the grocery store where he refused to sit in the cart and insisted that I carry him…along with a ream of paper, envelopes, milk and eggs. I finally coaxed him to the car where his giant truck that I wouldn’t let him bring into the store was waiting for him.

Once we got home, Tom was forced to take over because I had another call for work. By the time I was finished, it was time for him to go to bed. You would think he would have been exhausted at that point, but he still managed to push his limits for a few last minutes before finally passing out.

It is the next day and supposed to be naptime as I write this. I just battled with him for about an hour and I’m about to head up there right now and make good on my promise to take away his bulldozer. Wish me luck…Ok, I’m back. Guess what I’m holding in my hand? Click, Click…there goes the door latch. I might lose my mind. I just went up there again…he was playing in the bathroom sink. This time I took away Bubba Lion (Colin’s most prized possession). I mean business. Click, Click….there goes the door latch. Here we go again. I am pretty sure by the end of today, he will have nothing left in his room and maybe because I’ve packed him and his belongings up to move in with Grandma and Grandpa. Click, Click…there goes the door latch. This time I am going to ignore him because I am sure a good portion of his tactic is to get my attention. My only concern is that my water bill will be through the roof because he will play in bathroom sink all afternoon if I let him.

Fast forward to bedtime…neither kid took a nap and Tom is out of town, so I am hoping they just crash. Ha, silly me. Colin still got up and roamed around after I put him to bed. After one last stern warning, I went downstairs and thought I heard him escape one last time. I gave it about 10 minutes and went to check on him. Sure enough he was asleep in the hallway with his animals. I stared at him sleeping so peacefully where he finally ran out of gas. What a piece of work. I moved him back to bed without incident. At least I got a few hours to catch up on my DVR’d shows and get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, but that was short lived when Colin showed up in my room at 3 a.m. and Maddie at 3:15 a.m. I finally just gave up and let them both sleep in bed with me. Again, sometimes I just have to surrender.

Here I am…another day and another new adventure of nap vs. no-nap. Gosh, I love my family, but if you don’t hear from me, I have committed myself to a mental institution or fled the country to a deserted island...or an island with internet so I can start a new blog called, “I’m A Runaway Housewife.” My first topic, “Coconut: Food and Fashion.” This is what happens when you don’t sleep.

But Why?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=3np0DMxXKzM

I was watching all the 9/11 remembrance programs today and getting chills up and down my spine every five minutes. I began crying in the middle of commercials and practically broke down at Paul Simon’s “Sound of Silence” performance and all my daughter simply came up to me and asked was, “Why?”

This was the heaviest “why” my daughter who asks “why” 18 million times a day has ever uttered. She sees all the people gathered at Ground Zero crying, holding flowers, and signs with photos of their loved ones. “Why are they crying, Mommy?”

They show the giant fountains where the Twin Towers once stood. “What are those for Mommy? And WOW, those are deep!”

They show people rubbing the names off the monument and she asks, “Why are they doing that, Mommy?”

I am left with an immeasurable lack of words for my four-year old daughter who is old enough to know about death and pain to a certain extent.  She also knows that these images she is seeing are not “fun.” However, she isn’t old enough and I don’t know “how” to explain that day to her.

I turn the channel before she can see any images from that day. Those images are not something you can ever explain to anyone, let alone a four-year old. It is like trying to explain the Internet to a 70 year old or a record player to a child born in the last decade…there is no comprehension.

If you would have explained it to me on September 10, 2001, I personally would have given a puzzled look and wouldn’t be able to wrap my mind around a plane crashing into a building and bursting into flames, followed by another plane crashing into the identical building next to it not long after. Then, the thought that in another part of the country, yet another plane was crashing into the Pentagon and another plane crashed into a field. Then coming to the realization that all of these planes, regardless of where they crashed, had one purpose in mind…to destroy the United States. Regardless of whether they chose buildings with the largest number of people or a building that held great symbolism, the message was clear; Whoever or whatever was responsible was filled with hate for all that our country represents.

To think that all along we felt “safe” here, and to suddenly have that “safety” taken away. To know that we would all walk around looking over our shoulders wondering "What next?" We would now realize that the notion of  "anything is possible" meant something completely different than what we had been taught up until that point. Because being an American always meant that we could do ANYTHING. The American Dream meant if you put your blood, sweat and tears into something, you would succeed. This was the land of opportunity and then they took that away.

There is certainly a pre 9/11 part of our lives and a post 9/11 part of our lives. We could never travel the same; the security measures in place were a constant reminder. We could never go to work the same; we’d have to go through a metal detector just to enter our own office building. We would never look at the most notable skyline the same; part of it would be missing. We’d wonder what else they could have gotten away with that day? Where exactly was that fourth plane headed? What other landscape could have been destroyed? How many other lives could have been taken?

And ten years later, watching the ceremonies commemorating the events of 9/11, why does it seem to hurt more now? While the pain and the fear are still there, from it grows a different kind of “National confidence.” We used to walk tall knowing we lived in the country that afforded us the most freedom, the most opportunity and the most success. Now we’ve been taken down a few notches and humbled. But now we’ve seen our Nation take steps to fight for that again, take back some of what was lost and most importantly realize that we are not defeated, but stronger for knowing we should never take anything for granted…EVER again.

I look at my children and I don’t even want to begin to explain that day to them. I don’t want to think about our family if something like that were ever to impact us directly. I don’t want to explain that kind of evil and the kind of pain it caused. It is certainly one answer I don’t have for my children. It isn’t something I can look up on the internet like why are the moon and sun out at the same time sometimes? No, this is an answer I don’t think any of us can answer. I hope that some day the history books can begin to explain all the events that as a parent not only do I not want to, but that I just can't. I dread the day my kids come home from school seeking answers. 

Here’s a clip of my favorite commercial commemorating 9/11. To me, it encompasses the optimism that comes out of such a hardship on a nation.  After watching this, Maddie simply said she wanted to sing at the Fire Station without know the significance.  I am so jealous of her innocence and if I could bottle it, I would give it to all the people who lost loved ones that day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJzUxVKLgMk

Bouncy-Bounce, Backwards Dresses, Febreze and Robert Goulet: It Could Only Be My Sorted Life

I don’t really have a “theme” for this entry…just three days strung together not too different from any others, but definitely worthy of writing down.

Day One:

It was a typical Saturday in the Stien house. I woke up early with the kids, fed them breakfast and then headed to the gym for an early morning Spin class. Since Colin isn’t allowed in the childcare center at the gym for a week since his third write-up for biting, I am taking full advantage of Tom being home to go to the gym instead of finding creative ways to get my workouts in. I came home and as soon as I did, Tom left to get his oil changed. I took the kids to do some back-to-school shopping and to capitalize on Borders going-out-of-business sale. After chasing Colin around Children’s Place, I wasn’t real sure what I actually purchased, but I had a 30% off coupon and managed to get a bag full of clothes for $100. One thing I knew for sure, it was nap time. We had a birthday party that started at 3 pm and I wanted to make sure I got Colin down at a reasonable time so we weren’t too late for the party.

I got the kids home, fed them a quick lunch and tried to put Colin down. I realized at about 2:15 pm that he still wasn’t asleep and was calling out my name. I went to check on him and he asked me to sleep with him. I tried tough love and told him to go to sleep and shut his door. After about 10 minutes I was pretty sure he was going to kick the door down. I went in and tried to get him to settle down and sleep, but Maddie kept coming in to check out the situation causing further distraction for Colin. It was almost 3 pm and Colin didn’t look like he was going to take a nap anytime soon. I finally just gave up and we got the kids ready to go to the party. I told Tom I’d rather get going since I was pretty sure Colin would end up having a meltdown at about 5 pm since he hadn’t had a nap.

We got to the party and there was a face painter. Maddie got pretty pink swans around her eyes and Colin of course asked to be a monster. (go figure!) He was doing a pretty good job playing with other kids without beating someone up until he entered the bouncy-bounce. That’s when I heard, “Hey! That boy just pushed me!” I knew there was only one “boy” she could be referring to and I was right. I climbed in there and grabbed him out and he had to sit out for awhile. (F.Y.I., if you want to see something America’s Funniest Home Video worthy, just record me sticking my head in the bouncy-bounce yelling at Colin to get out, him laughing at me and running away, me trying to climb in after him, all while 10 kids are jumping and making me look like a human jumping bean.) He wasn’t real happy about it and was like a bucking bronco on my lap until Tom grabbed him and got an upper body workout from holding Colin down. We finally let him go and he played at the water/sand table with some other kids. We watched him carefully as he pushed a boy older than him. The boy promptly smacked Colin with a shovel and we secretly cheered.

We realized that Colin was starting to hit his limit and decided it was time to gather the kids together and make an exit. Colin wasn’t happy with that idea tried bolting towards the bouncy-bounce. Tom was able to wrestle him up and got bit in the process. He promptly dragged him to the car before I could even turn around to get Maddie to leave. I felt bad because she had made a “swiend” and was playing nicely and having fun when her brother ruined it for her. I told her there were goody bags and she was out the door. We hugged everyone goodbye as fast as possible, grabbed the goody bags and did a bee line for the door. I saw Tom struggling with a kicking, screaming, crying Colin with the tracks of his tears in his monster face paint. He looked a lot less cute and truly scary at that point. I handed Maddie her goody bad and she began to unearth her treasures. When I looked down at Colin’s bag it said, “Carson Steen.” I told Tom I wondered if we go back in and get “Carson,” he was probably more well behaved than the psycho path in the backseat of our minivan spitting, kicking and spewing.

We got home and since we had to leave so quickly, we missed dinner at the party and I had to whip up a quick meal. Of course, Colin fell asleep on the couch while I was doing that and we managed to wake him up enough to eat. I wasn’t sure how bedtime was going to go, but luckily bedtime went much smoother than naptime. Just as I got the kids in bed and poured myself a glass of wine, my mom called to say that her iPod wasn’t working despite the eight hours I had previously spent transferring her music from her old computer to her new one. Unfortunately this was the first time she was syncing her iPod to her computer and only 100 of her 800+ songs came over. She was having a conniption fit because she wouldn’t have any music to listen to going to bed. I talked her off the technology edge and explained there was nothing I could do to fix the situation that night and she would have to wait until I talked to my friend Tony who offers assistance to people with issues with electronics (Shameless Plug for Everything Electronic (847) 350-9091--ask for Tony). Ok, I could finally relax and enjoy my Saturday night and prepare for the next day.

Day Two

Sunday morning does not involve sleeping in for me. It is like every other morning where the kids wake up, I make breakfast, try and do some things around the house, but on Sunday I usually go to church. We determined that the church might go up in flames if Hellboy went, so was just going to take Maddie. I am a lector once a month and this was my Sunday to do a reading. I got myself dressed, which is more challenging when you have to actually look nice rather than wearing a tank top, jean shorts and flip flops (they frown upon their lectors wearing that to church). I managed to pull out one of my old biz-cas ensembles from the inner depths of my closet, threw a dress on Maddie, some Goldfish crackers and we were on our way.

Maddie is now super brave and goes to “Church School” or to the basement for Children’s Liturgy each week. She hopped up to join the other kids at the front of the church and that was the first time I noticed that she had her dress on backwards. How I did not notice that up until that point, I have no idea, but there I was sitting at the front of the church ready to do a reading and there was my doe-eyed little girl with a giant flower on her butt. I am glad I got through my reading without thinking about it and laughing.

We dropped my mother-in-law off after mass and Tom and Colin were there waiting for us. We all decided to go out to lunch and then I headed off to a barbecue at a friend’s house, sans family. I was happy to have some time away without hearing my name being called, which by-the-way I have decided to go from having my kids call me Mom, Ma, Mommy to Nancy. I just can’t stand hearing it called every 5 seconds, especially since every time we put Colin on timeout (which is A LOT lately) he screams “Mommy!” over and over again. I don’t know why he thinks I am going to be the one who saves him when I am the one who put him there most of the time and I am one timeout from sending him to an orphanage. (Surely, I jest) Anyway, I thought Nancy might be a nice alternative.

I got home from the barbecue feeling relaxed and ready to cook dinner. The house was all picked up and that was when I noticed that the area rug in our living room/toy room was missing. That could only mean one thing…Kira peed. Not only is she thirteen-years old, but she gets stressed out when we leave, especially me, and Tom didn’t lock her up while he and Maddie were out front and Colin was napping. There was also a Barbie dress that had an indescribable odor that left all of us a little baffled.

We sat down to our steak dinner, which would have been much nicer if Colin stayed in his seat rather than running to play at his train table and mock us. After three timeouts, he finally came back to eat three more bites of potatoes and two more bites of meat. We survived the remainder of the evening, kids went to bed and we watched Entourage.

Day Three

It is now Monday morning and normally I would go to the gym, but we are currently banned for a week because Colin bit a boy last Thursday. Since it was his third write-up, we got a longer suspension. I took the kids for a run in the jogging stroller and then we got back, cleaned up and went to my mom’s to fix the previously mentioned iPod. I started work to work on it while the kids played. My mom had a lunch date with some friends, so she left shortly after we arrived. I finished re-transferring everything fairly quickly and was about to sync her iPod to her computer when I realized she hadn’t left me the cord to do so. I went in to her room to find it and by the time I had come out 3 minutes later, Colin had found a blue crayon and colored my mom’s stark white walls and the grout in her kitchen tile.

Now, let me explain something about my mom and her condo. My mom and I are nothing alike when it comes to our level of organization and tolerance for mess, clutter or blue crayon on the wall. She never has anything unnecessary on her counters, or kitchen table. There is never a newspaper or magazine left out. Granted, she lives on her own and doesn’t have two tornadoes to put up with, but even still, she is a neat freak. So when I walked in to find Colin’s artwork, I got that warm nervous feeling you get when you get pulled over. I felt like a teenager who had a party while her parents were away and there were cigarette burns in the couch, bong water spilled on the carpet and someone had puked in a potted plant. (Not that I was ever in that situation, but I am sure that I would have felt the same fear).

I grabbed as many cleaning products as possible and started scrubbing. I knew I was taking the finish off the wall, but I also knew my mom was planning on painting at some point, so I figured I had nothing to lose. I was sweating and swearing under my breath trying to keep the kids away from the HAZMAT situation all the cleaning chemicals had created. I found the only worse thing than frantically scrubbing the floor before your mom gets home to bust you is doing it while Robert Goulet is playing (a la mom’s iPod music library that was playing--See YouTube video below).

I finally got most of the crayon along with the paint finish off the wall, floor, ledge and the grout was merely “tinted” blue at this point. My mom got home and was talking on her cell phone when she entered to find me mouthing “you need to get off the phone.” She quickly ended her conversation with her sister and reluctantly asked what was wrong. I started by asking where her iPod cord was so I could explain what I was doing when Colin redecorated her house. She was actually pretty cool about and said she uses Mr. Clean scrub pads on her walls all the time to keep them white, so apparently she’s ok with taking the finish off her walls. She also said that she had to paint anyway. I told her Colin thought she should chose blue. She found her bleach pen and went to work on the grout. Man, I wish she had been that understanding when I was two and I colored on the family portrait with purple crayon because it was taken before I was born and I was mad I wasn’t in it. Or the time I poured nail polish remover on the linoleum floor in our kitchen leaving a yellow stain. She certainly has chilled over the years.

Rather than have Colin nap there, I was able to successfully sync all 811 of her songs from her computer to her iPod. I got the kids ready and we headed home. Colin fell asleep in the car and luckily I was able to bring him upstairs so he got another hour of nap…and so did I.

Just when I thought all my clean-up duties for the day were done, I made dinner and then began cleaning up the epic mess in our toy room. I picked up a handful of Barbie clothes and shoes and went to grab the princess carriage shaped bin we use to store miscellaneous Barbie and doll clothes. I opened lid and the familiar smell of piss and shit x 1,000 hit my olfactory. What the hell is going on? I realize it wasn't Kira who had peed the day before. I quickly began pulling the items out of the bin and realized they were damp. I knew full well there was only one explanation for this, Tuna. She’s our cat and as I have mentioned requires the least maintenance of anyone or thing in our house. However, since we moved her litter box upstairs, she has gotten confused 2 other times. Luckily both times were strategically on bath mats. This time, while strategic, she happened to use a princess bin full Barbies and clothes as a litter box. Unfortunately, there were two American Girl outfits and two American Girl pairs of shoes, which if you know anything about you know cost more than what most people spend on their own clothes…for a year. Since everything marinated in the make-shift litter box for a whole day I ended up tossing half the stuff, including three Barbies, one of which had a turd in her hair. As for the American Girl stuff, I washed the shoes with three different household cleaners and soaked them in Febreze and the stench still remained so I threw them out.  Luckily the clothes were saved after I washed them two times, sprayed with Febreze and washed again. As bad as this clean up was, at least I didn’t have to do it to Robert Goulet.

Robert Goulet: Checkout YouTube link below to feel my pain...but I have to say he was pretty handsome in his day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A58x8BN6o6U&feature=related

Hellboy

I really hope Colin isn’t the type of kid where we say, “Wow, they say terrible-twos are bad, but with Colin, he was a terrible-three!” because quite frankly, I’m not sure he is going to make it to his third birthday.

I’ve already discussed that he is a “biter,” which luckily has subsided and he hasn’t drawn blood in several weeks (knock on wood). The problem now is he has resorted to full out pile drives, headlocks and pinning children down by sitting on their face. He doesn’t discriminate either; he will go after his sister, boys and his favorite, baby girls at the daycare at the gym.

 

I got called down to the daycare yesterday and the first thing I saw was one of the caregivers holding a little girl who was no older than two and she was sobbing so hard there was snot flying out of her nose. I hoped that the reason that child was crying was not the reason I was called down, but I was wrong. I went to grab a tissue for the little girl and out of the corner of my eye spotted a little lump of trouble sitting in the corner. I heard “Mommy” and realized it was Colin on timeout.

I grabbed him and strongly scolded him for hurting the little girl. Clearly my lecture before we left the house, in the car on the way to the gym and right before he entered the childcare center didn’t sink in. I brought him over to the little girl he pummeled and made him apologize. I also made him say what he was sorry for. We are trying to avoid having him just say, “sorry” so maybe at some point he will realize what he is actually doing to get in so much trouble.

The woman at the childcare center assured me that this was just a phase and that he will grow out of it. “After all, it isn’t like he is going to go off to college and still be doing this,” she laughed. Then the thought of my middle brother popped into my head. He actually did go off to college beating the crap out of people. Granted, he left the girls alone at that point, but he was known to throw a few punches at other drunk dudes at the bar who looked at him wrong and he usually just punched trees when girls were involved.

Later in the day, the kids actually played nicely together while I got part of the house cleaned. I was hoping Colin got all his aggression out early in the day. However, after his nap he regained some steam and started Hellboy Part 2. It started with the usual pushing and shoving match with Maddie, followed by kicking her and a few scissor moves to pin her down. After I separated them and went back to cooking dinner, I heard Maddie crying again because Colin threw a plastic hockey puck at her head. After timeout number 114, Colin arrived in the kitchen saying, “Look at me mommy!” He had drawn all over his arms with brown, yellow and blue marker. Visions of a tattooed, bar room brawler popped into my head and I am thinking maybe instead of 2-year old preschool, we should be looking at military schools.

When Tom got home from work (earlier than usual, thank God) I had him deal with the situation and took Maddie to get a haircut. Tom said he was going to make him do calisthenics in the garage to teach him some discipline and burn off some of his energy. However, when I arrived home Colin looked like he had been crying the whole time I was gone and was instructed to apologize to me for the way he acted before I left. Apparently Colin spent a good portion of my time away on the bench in our entryway that acts as our timeout place. Tom had a “come to Jesus” talk with him and he was sweet as pie the rest of the night, but woke up the next morning full of piss and vinegar all over again.

He began by spreading a spoonful of peanut butter all over the kitchen table and then sticking Cheerios on it. Then he had the brilliant idea to get his bulldozer to clean up the Cheerio mess. Finally, instead of eating breakfast he went and took one of Maddie’s toys and when she tried to get it back from him, he smacked her. I will admit he got a smack on the ass for that, but it hurt me more than it hurt him. And besides, he just got up and continued with the WWF wrestling match he started the night before. While he was on time out for yet another infraction, he pulled his diaper off. Awhile later I was talking to Tom on the phone who asked how my morning was going. I was recounting the events of the morning to Tom, Colin heard me say “butt” as in “I smacked him in the butt” and he began running around the house saying “I got poo poo in my butt!” Another fun phase…potty talk.

Finally, both of them decided to push me to my limit by playing their new favorite game “Angry Birds” where they run along the sectional couch and then fling themselves either into each other or on the cushions. I finally got them to stop and we vacated the premises to go to the petting zoo and park with a friend of ours. I was hoping to burn some energy so he will spare me a little for the rest of today.

It is funny because he can be so sweet and smart, which is good because I think otherwise I would sell him to the gypsies. The other day I walked in the room to find my Swiffer by his train table because he had stolen my brown eye shadow and crushed it up to make dirt for his bulldozer. Apparently he felt remorse and wanted to try and clean up after his mistake. He always gives big giant hugs and kisses and tells me he loves me. He loves to cuddle and has a phenomenal sense of humor. People keep telling me he will change and this is only a phase, but I can’t help but wonder if his behavior is a sign of things to come. Am I going to be the parent who constantly gets phone calls for “disruptive behavior” at school? What will his report cards say? Will he punch kids at the bus stop because he wants to be first in line? Will he pin kids down in the back of the bus and steal their lunch money? Can I expect bar room brawls? Should I start saving money for bail instead of college? I keep thinking that once he is old enough martial arts classes, football or wrestling will help him channel some of his aggression, but I worry that it will also encourage it.

I know it is my responsibility to guide him in the right direction, but so far no form of discipline is sinking into to his fat, bald head. I bought a book about how to discipline your child without yelling and spanking and he happened to tear it up. I’ve even tried to use my mom’s favorite tactic; good old- fashion Catholic guilt, and tell him God is watching. His response reflected that he thought he wouldn’t get presents on Christmas. No, God and Santa are not the same, Colin, and any efforts to discuss the devil and hell would certainly be lost on him. He can say the “Our Father” prayer when prompted, never mind the fact that his favorite part is “and deliver us from evil,” with an emphasis on EVIL. Is he evil? Am I raising the spawn of Satin? (which would make Tom or I Satan, I guess) So, I can only hope that this truly is just a phase and that he will find an outlet for his aggression that isn’t a person’s face or something breakable…or both and that we won’t be seeing his face on “America’s Most Wanted” 20 years from now.