How Am I Going To Get Out Of This One?

Today Maddie was working on one of her many art projects making pictures for neighbors, telescopes out of construction paper and a sign to put in the front yard.

She asked me to write, spell and tape various scraps of paper. I got her glue, popsicle sticks and glitter until she finally asked me to write, "Music Concert Tomorrow." She went on to inform me she was going to have a music concert on our front lawn for everyone to come watch. She determined that it should be in the afternoon and instructed me to write our address and that it would be held "outside" so people wouldn't get confused. I asked her what kind of music she was going to perform and she said that she was going to sing and hoped that some of her friends would sing with her. I told her that her friends might not be around to sing with, her hoping it would squash her plan. That was until she informed me that I would be performing with her instead.

I wasn't real sure how that would play out or how I could possibly avoid placing her handmade sign in the lawn with the attached popsicle stick waiting for the neighbors to come watch our performance. I am not sure what will be more disappointing, that no one will show up or my singing?

Someone asked what we will sing...likely it will be some of her vocal stylings she performs to herself that is a hodgepodge of Top 40 songs by Katie Perry, Lady Gaga, Carly Rae Jepsen and Justin Bieber. All the words will be off and/or mixed together and she will likely yell at me for singing it wrong.

Of course as with all doozy of a story that is the foundation of this blog, I called my mom. She almost spit out her cup of tea and promised she would take the day off work to witness that one. Thanks, mom.

Mommy, Where's Your Wiener?

I knew this blog was coming. I knew that somehow, some way when I potty trained Colin, there was sure to be a good story, and boy was I right.

We've been gradually working towards potty training for a few months now. I knew he wasn't ready for awhile because he never woke up dry in the morning and just never had the voids that Maddie did when it was time to potty train her. I also feel like I started a little too soon with Maddie and there were more headaches than victories. There may be a slight chance she'll need therapy as a result of my aggressive potty training technique. To my defense, I trained her when Colin was only a few months old, was sleep deprived, desperately wanted to get rid of at least one set of diapers, and many times rushed her along because I was either nursing Colin on the bathroom floor waiting for her to do her duty while he was screaming at the top of his lungs because I had ditched him on the family room floor in order to rush her to the potty.

We have finally gotten to a point with Colin where he understands "Potty Training" has nothing to do with riding a train and he now refuses to wear a Pull Up. A few months, back we started by simply having him pee on the potty before he went to bed each night. This was more out of necessity since he outgrew nighttime diapers and the nighttime Pull Ups don't absorb as much. As a result he would wake up with a wet bed.

He actually had done pretty well adjusting to this routine, except he usually threatens to pee on Maddie as he aims his wiener at her. Then he goes into a soliloquy about how he is "Pee-Pee Guy" and shoots bad guys with his "pee gun." Sigh. Typical boy.

Over the last week or two, I have started putting him on the potty periodically throughout the day in an attempt to keep him as dry as possible. With each trip to the bathroom comes a new discovery. He investigates himself and asks a lot of questions. The questions started simple. "Mom, what is this?" I decided not to use any cutesy words for it, so we call it either a wiener or quite simply a penis.

I then had to make sure that his "discovery" didn't prevent him from aiming it into the toilet. He is like a contortionist and treats his stuff like Silly Putty. It even makes me uncomfortable. A few days later he moved down to his testicles and began trying to figure those guys out. "Mom, what are these?" Again, I tried to be as straight forward as possible and tell them they are his testicles or some men call them "balls." Then he asked me what they were for. A million answers popped into my head, but rather than answer him I told him to ask Daddy.

The latest inquiry came the other day. I have never really been that self-conscious or discrete with the kids since they usually bust open the bathroom door even if I do close it. It never really made much difference to me and I got used to the fact that I probably will never pee alone again. Of course, with Colin's new found curiosity came the realization that I don't have a penis. He was trying to go on his potty chair and I happened to have to go as well. Without skipping a beat, I dropped trou and went as well not realizing what his view from his potty chair was. (Side note: I can't believe I am going into great detail how I went about relieving myself as it pertains to my son. However, this is the reality we live in as parents and there is no such thing as privacy, modesty or a moment’s peace.)

But I digress, Colin caught a glimpse of what I had versus what he had. Suddenly an alarmed look came across his face. "Mom, where's your wiener!!" I explained that I am a girl and girls don't have wieners. “Boys have penises and girls have vaginas.”

He became even more perplexed and tried to get another glimpse. I feverishly pulled up my pants to avoid being the subject of his anatomy lesson any longer. He finally stopped trying to figure it out and proclaimed, "Mommy, you have a wiener but yours is broken." Oh. My. God. I don't even want to know what image in his little mind created that conclusion. Then he told me, "Mom, you better go and get one!"

I gently explained that it isn't broken and that you just can't go out and get one.  I realized that there was more to this conversation that I am sure he can learn on MTV at some point and simply restated my previous statement. "Boys have penises and girls have vaginas." According to Robert Fulghum, everything I learned, I learned in Kindergarten, in this case it was Kindergarten Cop. Then he started asking about various members of our family to take stock of who had what. "Does Daddy have a wiener?"

"Yes, Colin. Daddy is a boy so he has one."

"Does Maddie have a wiener?"

"No, Colin. Maddie is a girl like me. She doesn't have one."

The list continued to grandparents and close friends.

Later that evening I was helping Colin get his bike out of the garage. He looked up at me and proclaimed, "Mom, I think you're gettin' a wiener."

Hmm. Was it my extraordinary man-like strength lifting his bike that brought him to that conclusion or just wishful thinking that maybe I would just sprout one so we could be alike? Whatever the case may be, all I could do was chuckle and shake my head. My neighbor was watching this exchange from afar and inquired why I was laughing and shaking my head. All I could tell her was that Colin was writing my next blog for me.

The next day, Colin continued his inventory of who had one and who doesn't even outside of bathroom time. "Dad, you know Jimmy right? (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

"Yes, Colin. I know your friend Jimmy."

"Do you know his daddy?"

"Yes, I know his daddy. What about him?"

"Does he have a wiener?"

"Yes, Colin. Jimmy's dad is a man so he has a wiener."

"Oh."

Then Colin proceeded to list off everyone he knows. Let's put it this way, if Colin has ever met you, chances are he has inquired whether or not you have a penis or not. And if he isn't sure, he'll come right out and ask you. Case in point, the girl who lives across the street got caught in Colin's crosshairs as they were doing sidewalk chalk the other day. "Hey G, do you have a wiener?" This poor 8 year old didn't know what hit her. She hadn't been informed of Colin's most recent phase and was completely mortified.

Yesterday the kids were at a friend's house for a playdate and he interrupted playing with his toy to turned very nonchalantly and asked my friend, "Hey, do you guys have wieners?" Luckily I was able to explain why my son asked if she and her 6 year old daughter had penises. My fear is that he will start doing this out in public. I can just picture him asking a server at a restaurant or shouting it through the grocery store at an innocent bystander.

In addition to his curiosity about parts of the body, he is interested in all things poop. I can't say I'm surprised since it is his favorite word. He told me a little story the other day about his poop. I asked if he had to go while he was sitting on the potty and he told me that the poops were still in his butt watching a movie about shooting guns made out of poop. Hmm. Very creative.

The next time he told me there was a mommy poop, daddy poop and two poop kids inside his butt watching a movie. He went on to tell another story about what they were doing, where they were going, etc. etc. Honestly, I just wanted his poop family to come out and join us in the toilet so I didn't have to sit in the bathroom any longer. Unfortunately, most times his new friends end up having a party in his Lighting McQueen underpants instead of where they belong in the potty.

Then there is the eternal question--what is poop? I tried to be as honest and intelligent as possible since most of his future conversations on the subject won't be, and told him it is all the food he eats after his body takes the good stuff out of it. I also told him it is called "waste." That stressed him out and he cried, "I don't want to waste!" I further explained that if he didn't poop, he would explode. Turns out he'd rather waste than explode, and he accepted that answer.

As of right now, Colin has mastered the pee thing. He even tells me when he had to go as opposed to peeing under his train table. The poop thing is a work in progress and we are working on bribing him with Matchbox cars to go tell us before he goes in his pants instead of after-the-fact.

I do have to say that Maddie is paying back her debt to Colin for all the times her potty training left him lying helpless and hungry on the floor while I sat with her. Now she sits with Colin in the bathroom and reads him books. It gives me a chance to actually write this entry as opposed to sitting on the bathroom floor discovering how many parts of my toilet I missed when cleaning. I guess it the silver lining to having two kids 23 months apart and all those diapers I've changed over the last five years.

Sh!t, Damn, Motherboard

E.L. James says she wrote Fifty Shades of Grey on her Blackberry, so I guess there's no reason I can't write blog posts on my iPhone, right?

I know that my posts ping-pong between uplifting, positive and motivational life events and the really ridiculous things that happen to me and the things my kids and husband do to make me contemplate picking up and becoming an aerobics instructor at a resort in the Caribbean. Today's post is most definitely the latter of the two.

Let's start of on a positive note, though. Tom and I were fortunate to go on another trip that he won through work. Tom actually came in a very close second in the sales competition, but the winner's wife was having a baby the week of the trip. So, by the grace of God, we were off to the Cayman Islands. Of course, when we arrived the weather report said it would rain for the next 5 days. I said a prayer to my Pa, who usually comes through and delivers great weather for various events. As luck would have it, the weather held up with only a few spotty showered here and there until the day we left and a tropical depression rolled in. The rain was so bad planes were not landing at the airport, jeopardizing our flight home.

At that point I was missing my kids, had done enough damage to my liver and just wanted to get home. I said one more a silent prayer to Pa and within 2 minutes our plane landed. Luckily we weren't delayed for too long and still made our connecting flight in Charlotte and got home right on schedule.

Of course divine intervention came to a screeching halt shortly after we returned home. It took me a few days to get back in the swing of things and regain tolerance for all the whining, crying, complaining and general shenanigans. Maddie graduated from preschool and I had to make sure I had gifts for her teachers since buying them rum from the Cayman's called "Big Black Dick" seemed inappropriate nor was buying them a case of beer like we did for our neighbors who watched our pets.

Of course returning home also meant returning to the reality of all the drama that comes with our children, including the fact that prior to our trip Colin was suspended from the childcare center at they gym for 3 months for biting again.  We were fortunate to get his sentenced reduced to one month as long as when we return we go later in the day to avoid the busy time in the morning when we normally go.  I could go into a tirade about this issue in an of itself, but let's just say after taking him to the child psychologist, it turns out the problem isn't him. 

The day I took him to the psychologist,  I was nearing the end of a 3-day laundry marathon and moving on to all the housework. Unfortunately the maid service I enjoyed at the Ritz-Carlton was a distant memory. Despite the fact I cleaned the entire house before we left, I came home to enough dog hair to create another husky.

Maddie asked if she could play games om disneyjunior.com while I vacuumed.  Let me start by saying we have two other laptops in the house that Maddie can use, but she is a computer snob and insists on using mine.  Of course, being the pushover that I am, have given her permission to do so.  Now, typically if the kids are going to play on my computer I make sure there are no liquids anywhere near where they are playing since it is a brand new Mac Book Pro that Tom got me for Christmas.

Within ten minutes into vacuuming, Colin had already unplugged the vacuum five times. Between vacuuming, yelling at him and putting him on time out, I didn't notice that Maddie had helped herself to a glass of water and managed to spill it all over my laptop.  She was yelling something at me, which she typically does while I am vacuuming despite the fact she knows full well I can't hear her and it took me a few seconds to realize what she was actually telling me.  I screamed at the top of my lungs, grabbed the computer and did my best to drain the water off and out of it.  It was still operating and I simply shut it and put it aside.

Later that day, I opened it up hoping it would still work, but it was dead.  I promptly packed it in rice for the next 4 days.  On Tuesday morning I set it on the table, said an Our Father and attempted to turn it on.  Nothing.  I called to make an appointment at the Mac Store until Tom told me it would actually be better to take it to CDW (where Tom works and where we purchased it) since repair would be cheaper.  I had to drive 45 minutes each way only to find out the next day that it would cost us a cool $1,100 to repair the mother board assuming there wasn't any other damage.  They did determine the hard drive was still Okay, which means at least all my files aren't lost.  I think the proper reaction to this stituation, besides crying, is to use my favorite list of explitives, Shit, Damn, Motherf*%#r! or in this case, Shit, Damn, Motherboard.

Tom said that he wouldn't pay repair the computer.  For that amount we could pretty much buy a new one since there was no guarantee that spending the money to replace the motherboard would be the end of our expense to fix it.  My heart sank. I know that it is just a machine, but everything I do from writing this blog, to preparing music for my cycle classes revolves around that computer.  All my life's passions and goals for the coming year involving my writing, fizzled along with the motherboard. Guess precipitation we were spared in the Cayman's decided to land squarely on the keyboard of my laptop.  And it was so nice and pretty and shiny and only six months OLD!!!  Of course, I then started on the second emotion--self-loathing.  If Tom used the "Love and Logic" method of parenting with me, he would say "too bad, so-sad.  No new computer for you. You weren't paying attention to what our kid was doing, therefore you suffer the consequences."  And that was basically what he was doing and I can't say that I blame him.  I suck.

I flashed back to my childhood and how I was always messing up.  Spilling nail polish remover on the linoleum floor leaving a huge yellow spot, losing things, forgetting books in my locker when I needed them for homework, losing library books, and the list goes on and on.  Even as an adult I am notorious for losing things (like wedding bands and ruby and diamond earrings), to ruining electronics like my last iPod Nano that I trashed when my water bottle spilled in my purse and fried it.  I am surprised my iPhone has lasted this long!  Even Tom has an under-over on how long it will take me to destroy it.  Too bad we didn't invest in Apple Care on the laptop like we did my phone.

Sometimes I wish I could just give it all up--all the phones, computers, iPods, Apple TV, Kindle and all the electronics that we are slaves to and become Amish.  Of course, I'm not sure Tom would make it since he can't grow a beard. 

The jury is still out on whether or not we will replace my laptop.  Tom tried to take advantage of a promotion at work that had special pricing on Mac's, but he would have had to place the order by May 26th and that was the day the computer met it's maker.  He tried to work his magic with his contact at work explaining the situation, but it was a no-go.  Instead we would have to pay an extra $300 for the same computer. Just our luck.

So, here I sit going between typing this entry on my iPhone and my old laptop that is slow as molasses, and the "i" and "x" keys are popped off thanks to Colin. Clearly Maddie takes after me when it comes to her high standards when it comes to technology. Still, I feel like might be better off chiseling this on stone. For this reason, I apologize for any typos above and beyond my usual amount. 

My biggest frustration is with my iTunes.  I have collected so much music over the last several years especially more recently for my cycle classes.  I take a lot of pride in my play lists for class and feel lost without my library.  I tried getting a subscription to iCloud to see if I can retrieve my music, but for some reason it won't let me even purchase the subscription to see if will work.

I've thought about ways to raise money to replace my computer and a few ideas have cropped up--some good, some not so good.  I've decided pole dancing and selling organs are among the bad ideas.  I'd have to teach an awful lot of cycle and Pilates classes at the gym to make over $1,000 especially since I have just about exhausted my free babysitting resources seeing as how I can't bring Colin to the free daycare at the gym.  I suppose I could hold a 5k, but something tells me a race to benefit my technology addiction and snobbery isn't as compelling as Cancer or sick kids.  That thought alone puts me back into "I hate myself" mode. Unless any of you have some sort of job or task you want to hire me to do, my neighbor and I are going to hold a garage sale in a few weeks and we are going to have Maddie set up a lemonade stand and see if we can have a "I spilled water on my mommy's laptop and she's making me buy her a new one" sign to see if we can get any sympathy donations.  I truly am shameless.

Instead I might take a picture of all the Apple products I've bought with the exception of my IIgs that is now in the Smithsonian and send it along with a compelling letter to Tim Cook, CEO of Apple.  I'd tell him how loyal I am to Apple, how I was trying to nuture a future Apple-user by letting my daughter use my computer and beg and plead for them to fix my Mac Book.  Since I don't have my computer to download the pictures, I guess that isn't possible. I suppose I can make a list, or maybe make it even more compelling by having Maddie draw a picture and mail it to him! That would really tug at his heartstrings!!  If that fails all I have left to do is say a prayer to Steve Jobs and hope that he and my Pa have become friends in heaven and he can pull some strings for me.

Dear Mr. Cook,

Recently my 4-year old daughter spillled a cup of water on my Mac Book Pro and it seems it will cost a minimum of $1,100 to repair the motherboard.  Over my lifetime, I have owned at least a dozen Apple products including, but not limited to:

1) Apple IIgs
2) 5 iPods of various generations
3) 2 iPhones
4) 1 Mac Mini
5) 1 iPad 
6) Nike + Pod for running
7) 1, now deceased Mac Book Pro



I also grew up using Apple products  in school, designed my high school and college newspapers on Mac's and wanted to pass on my love of Apple products to my daughter by allowing her to use my laptop when she spilled the water on it.

I am sure you are a busy man, but as a loyal customer, I am asking for you to consider my request to repair my computer or replace it since I know your new model will be coming out soon.  I will tell everyone I know of your kindness should you choose to accomidate my request.

Sincerely,

Michelle Stien


P.S. I am a blogger and write a column for a local magazine that I can utilize to mention Apple Computers and your kindness.

Bye-Bye, Baby!

Well, we made it.  As of today, Colin will no longer be a two-year old. (Audible Sigh)

After a year of biting, kicking, evil-boy antics, poopy talk, destruction and general unruly behavior, I am happy to say Colin made it to his third birthday without me selling him to the gypsies. Of course, I have this lingering--or not-so lingering thought--that the real trouble has only begun.

In the last few weeks, Colin has shifted into full-force trouble mode and I’m not sure if is his swansong as a two-year old or the beginning of a whole new realm of T-R-O-U-B-L-E.  Let’s start with the knives…

A few weeks ago, Tom was with the kids while I was teaching my early-morning cycle class.  Usually the kids hang in our room and watch T.V. with Tom before coming down for breakfast.  Colin likes to head down and grab a snack from the pantry and bring it up to nosh on while he watches his morning cartoons.  He had gone down and was gone for too long and was too quiet when Tom sent Maddie down to check out what he was doing.  She came running back up immediately and announced, “Ummm, Dad?  Colin is in BIG TROUBLE.”  Tom bound out of the bed and down the stairs (wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that one!) and found Colin coming up the stairs with two steak knives in his hands pointing outward.  Tom promptly removed the knives from his hands and hid them along with every other knife in that was tucked in the way back of our silverware drawer.

He has continued his love for sharp objects more recently when he came down stairs and stood in front of me with something held behind his back and gave be a cunning smile.  He pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal Tom’s razor and then gave me a maniacal laugh.  I chased him down—clearly a risky challenge--and had to find a safe place for the razor.

In addition to his love of weaponry, he has decided to take up running and I don’t mean 5k’s.  He is exercising his independence by running away from me whenever he has a chance.  Whether it is to escape into Maddie’s dance class, the parking lot or Sears.  A few weeks ago we stopped at Sears to pick up a water filter for the fridge and he decided to escape down the aisles of the Sears appliance department, then the electronics, then the lawn and garden section, ladies bathing suits, jewelry department and back around to the bedding department.  The whole time I chased him in my wedge sandals proving that there really is no reason for me to ever dress in anything but yoga pants and my New Balance running shoes.

I get my workout every morning I take Maddie to school when he escapes while I help her get her backpack and jacket hung up and hands washed.  By the time I am finished I usually find him in the church attached to the school on the altar trying to play the drums that are set up.  In my effort to track him down one day, I went straight for the church yelling his name only to be greeted by the Pastor trying to set up for chapel.  I was relieved that Colin wasn’t in there doing his best Animal impersonation, but it also left me explaining why I was screaming like a banshee in a sacred place.  Eventually I just apologized, hung my head and turned on my heels to seek out my little trouble-maker. 

Now that we’ve covered sharp objects, percussion and endurance sports, lets move on to his quite simply making mega messes.  He is now into Legos, which means I keep finding those Goddamn little things all over the house and usually dug into my foot causing paralyzing side effects.  These are definitely giving the Polly-Pockets a run for their money as my least favorite toy.

And the mess doesn’t end there.  Every time I make popcorn for the kids, I can bet on my life that he will purposely dump half the bowl out all over the floor and as soon as I vacuum up every last kernel, he does it again.  He also enjoys filling cups of water and dumping them wherever he pleases.  The other day, he trotted into the kitchen, over to the dispenser at the fridge and helped himself to a cup of water.  I was actually thinking how nice it is that he can do more himself now until I heard the sound of water spilling.  I went into the other room and found he had dumped his entire cup of water onto the ottoman.

But the piece de resistance was the other day when I let the kids in the backyard after lunch while I was finishing cleaning up.  Within five minutes he was back in the house informing me that he had stepped in dog poop.  I was annoyed with myself for not remembering to pick it up before they went out there, but it slipped my mind.  As I approached Colin to remove his shoes I caught a whiff and knew immediately this wasn’t your usual run-of-the-mill dog poops incident.  He was covered from heel to head in dog poop.  I immediately stripped him down and promptly threw out everything he had been wearing including the shoes.  I had no desire to salvage a pair of shoes that were $17 at Target.  Once I cleaned him up, I went outside to check out the scene and found that the entire slide was smeared with poop.  I still couldn’t quite figure out how he accomplished this epic display of disgustingness and rather than even attempt to figure it out, I got the hose and started hosing down the entire swing set along with Colin’s Lightening McQueen umbrella that appeared to be his accomplice in the crime.

And to think, my days of picking up poop and pee are only beginning as we start the potty training process.  Colin isn’t really on board with the whole idea. In fact, he thinks that it will involve riding “The Potty Train” as opposed to learning to use the toilet.  We have started having him go pee each night before he goes to bed mainly because he usually leaks right through his nighttime Pull-up.  (he is too big for diapers!)  Of course, he thinks it is funny to point his wiener at Maddie and threaten to pee on her.  It doesn’t help that she thinks this is hilarious and eggs him on.

I put underwear on him a few weeks ago hoping it would entice him to use the potty.  He was intrigued by the opening in the front and before I knew it he had himself exposed and was doing a “Pee-Pee Dance” that even had me cracking up despite my better parenting judgment.  I wanted so bad to video-record it, but knew it was just too inappropriate even if we never showed it to anyone.  Eventually, he forgot he had the underwear and proceeded to take a leak in his bin of cars and trucks.  Good thing I was planning on sanitizing that bin of toys anyway.

So, I’m not sure what the next year has to offer, but I can only hope that I can keep up and at the very least shave some time off my mile. 

Aging Gracefully

Today I turn 35 years old.  How the hell did that happen?

Most people make New Years resolutions, but I always make Birthday resolutions.  Something about having a birthday in spring always has me feeling a need to “renew.”  In my estimation always challenging yourself and always improving is a good way to age with grace.

Last year I proclaimed that I would finally get my Group Fitness Certification so I could teach cycle classes.  The second goal was that I would get published.  By July I was certified and was employed at Lifetime Fitness by October.  I also was able to get my writing published in Kane County Magazine and on the blog for ViviLeDish.com, MamaLeDish.com.  Not bad, eh?

So, it is that time where I make this year’s proclamation.  I find the more people I tell about it, the more likely I am to follow through because I would never want to run into someone who I told and have them ask, “How did that writing thing work out for you?” and then have to tell them I just slacked off and it never went anywhere.

Indulge me, if you will, with my goals for my 35^th year:

1.     I will edit and publish the 70,000 + words I have written since July 2010.  I don’t care if it self-published or picked up.  Somehow my collection of writing will be available for purchase…even if it is only $.99.
2.       I will write a second book with a topic that will be disclosed at a later date.  All I need is a first draft to have accomplished this goal.

     

     I’ll admit I’ve always wanted to be 35 years old.  It might sound crazy, but I always thought that age would be stable and that I’d be established and respected at that by that point.  So, here I am and now it is time to for 35 to live up to my standards. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some editing to do.

My Subommittee

I am beginning to wonder if my purpose on my 5k run committees is even valid anymore since I spend most of my meetings chasing my kids around and telling Colin to stop yelling “POOPY!” at inopportune times.

As I’ve mentioned before, one of the ways I’ve kept “in the game” is to continue volunteering my time on committee for a local 5k race that supports the Raue Center for the Arts in Crystal Lake, IL.  I started on the committee about over 5 years ago and it has been a wonderful way for me to not only stay active in the community, gain great experience, but I have also met some of some of the best people I know through the group.

As a result of the people I’ve met, I am now joining two of my fellow committee members to create a new race to support several non-profit groups all while having participants run in Santa suits.  Of course, while I am excited to be part of yet another worthy cause involving one of my biggest loves, running, it means more time going to meetings.  I usually end up bringing my kids to the meetings since in all reality; volunteer work doesn’t pay the bills or babysitters for that matter.

So, I load up a bag of monster trucks, Legos and cars for Colin and Maddie usually brings her own “treasures.”  I also make sure that I have electronics for entertainment, either my laptop, portable DVD player and iPhone or any variation thereof.  I just wonder what my fellow committee members think when they see my entourage and me walk in.  I try to laugh it off and announce, “I brought my sub-committee!” Somehow, despite bringing a virtual Disney World for my kids, they find a way to get bored, fight over toys, escape the meeting room at Panera and start doing sprints around the baked goods.  Lucky for me, the people I am working with are very kind and accepting of my three-ring circus--at least that’s what they tell me as they smile and reassure me they are just happy I am able to give my time.

At a recent meeting Colin was shouting, “poopy” like he had turrets and Maddie was struggling with a slow Internet connection.  I was trying to concentrate on the budget for the race when Colin made not one, not two, but three attempts to escape the meeting room.  He was successful twice until one of the other women on the committee helped out by grabbing him.  God love her, she has kids of her own and felt my pain.  Finally the kids found a large bag of promotional bracelets for the race and promptly began dumping them out and spreading them across the floor.  I tried to have them pick them up but my dear friend and co-committee member told me just to leave them, at least it was keeping them occupied.  That was until they started fighting over who had more.  Luckily the meeting was coming to a close and we picked every last bracelet up and headed out.

A few days later I had another meeting for the other race and we set up camp in our usual fashion.  Colin had a brand new Monster Truck book and wanted me to read it to him.  Maddie was watching a movie on my computer that would render her paralyzed if we were at home, but had her bored out of her mind knowing that I needed her to remain occupied.  Colin began his escape artist routine and started running through the theatre.   He also kept stealing things out of Maddie’s bag-o-tricks she brought which got her chasing after him while yelling, “GIVE IT BACK!”  Once I retrieved her belongings she whined that she was bored.  Amidst this chaos, there were two little girls whose mom was on the other side of the theatre in a different meeting.  They were a few years older than my kids and were sitting politely and quietly keeping themselves busy with homework and video games.  Maddie was itching to go play with them, so I finally sent her to work her social magic and introduce herself.  Next thing you know, there was a regular romper room going on. 

I finally sat down to try to focus on the committee meeting and when the topic of who was providing food for the race came, it occurred to me that I had completely dropped the ball and forgotten to contact the local grocery store I volunteered to call on at the last meeting to ask.  Apparently, I had been distracted by Colin banging on the floor with his play hammer and by the time I hauled him out of there, my task flew out of my mind. 

Rather than use my iPhone as a source of entertainment for my kids, I figured I would use it for its intended purpose and set myself a reminder. Of course, once the meeting ended, the lobby of the theatre looked like my house on a daily basis-- coloring books, crayons, pens, trucks, airplanes and various other items strewn about.  My kids showed their impeccable listening skills and ignored my requests to help clean up and I ended up doing it as fast as I could by myself.

I finally made good on my promise to contact the local grocery store only to find out I had to submit a formal request and the owners would have to approve it.  This process takes two weeks leaving me to kick myself for not being more on top of things because had I remembered to do it when I was supposed to, I’d be that much more ahead of the game.

Oh well, after following up with the staff at the theatre, she suggested we contact some other resources just in case the other store didn’t come through.  Luckily, I got this email on my phone while the kids were playing at Monkey Joe’s and one of the places we wanted to contact was right next door.  I happily responded that I’d take care of it that day and went back to monitoring the bouncing.  I knew I also had to go grocery shopping, so with any luck I could make my request and then pick up a few things at that store.

Colin had gone off into the toddler area where there were little games and such and I realized he filled his diaper.   When I went to grab a diaper out of my purse, I realized I had used my last one.  I was relieved that I had more in the car and tried to round up the troops and got major attitude from my little princess.  She was having a ton of fun with a new friend she made so I gave her 5 more minutes.  When I finally went back to get her, she continued to stage a protest and informed me that if I made her leave I had to buy her ice cream.  Her behavior was awful and certainly not worthy of an ice cream treat.  I wanted to get out, get Colin changed, go make my request for a fruit donation and get my shopping done.  Maddie said in her most convincing diva performance.  “Fine!  Then you have to buy me a toy at the STORE!”  Here we go with the negotiations.  I stood my ground and gathered up all my strength as not to go bat-shit crazy on her right there in the middle of Monkey Joe’s.  I gritted my teeth solidifying why my dentist suggested a bite plate based on my apparent teeth grinding and flatly said, “Let’s go.”

I got to the car, reached in to the backpack and NO DIAPER---NO WIPES!!!  I tried to put Colin in his car seat and he would have nothing to do with that.  I decided to check out the situation in his pants and was hoping for a rock-solid turd I could extract from the diaper enough to make the ride home tolerable, but who was I kidding—he’s on antibiotics and solid poops are not part of the equation.  I thought, “OK, he’s got a little bit of control, right? “I hoped he could go without a diaper for the 10 minute ride home. But then I had to figure out how to wipe him without wipes.  I was able to wrestle up some tissues I had in the car, wet them down with my water bottle and clean him up.  I made light of him not wearing a diaper highlighting the benefits of going commando in hopes it would inspire him to ditch the diaper permanently! 

So, out the window went my plan to stop and make my request for donated fruit.  Again, my commitment to my committee shot to hell because with my luck if I still tried to still go and make do my deed, Maddie would want me to buy her something and throw a temper tantrum over not getting a toy in front of the store manager while Colin peed his pants.  On the other hand, perhaps the store manager would have pity on my and donate the fruit anyway.

I decided to ditch the potential pity party, take my crabby, diaperless children home and come up with an alternate plan to accomplish the rest of my day’s tasks after everyone had a nap.  Despite the pungent smell of above mentioned dirty diaper wafting through the minivan, we made it home without any accidents (the diaper kind or car crash kind due to me driving while reaching in the backseat to clobber one of my whining children).  After Colin got a proper nap, I finally got my grocery shopping done (although not at the same store I needed to make the request) and arrived back home by 6:00 p.m. to make dinner.   

I had thought I could accomplish my requests over the weekend while Tom was home to no avail.  Finally on Monday when Tom got home from work, I flew the coop and made it to at least one grocer and scored 2 cases of bananas for race day. I went to make a request at a second store and noticed that someone had scribbled on the top of my request letter.  I decided to cut my losses, report back to the committee that I got at least some of the donation request filled and wait until the next day to reprint my letter and head back out again. 

At this point, I have finally managed to drop off all the letters I needed to, which also meant buying some minty-chocolates out of the bulk bins at Fresh Market and bribed the kids with lunch so they wouldn’t complain about driving 30 minutes to drop off race flyers.  Now that I think of it, I probably could have used those funds towards a babysitter after all.

Very PINTERESTing

My most recent column in Kane County Magazine:

http://www.kanecountymagazine.com/articles/2012/03/30/VeryPinteresting/index.xml