No Place Like Home

I just go back from a trip to Phoenix, AZ where I traveled alone with the kids to visit family.  Talk about fodder for a blog about being a mom...yikes.

We started off last Thursday morning.  We had to leave the house by 7 a.m.  We had to drive to my mom's, who lives near the airport, and have her drive us in the minivan to the airport and then park the van at her place for the next 6 days.  This way, Tom could take the train to my mom's house, which is walking distance from the train station and then pick us up with the minivan when we returned.  Why the elaborate "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" scenario?  Well, let me break it down:

1) Taking a limo 40 miles is expensive, assuming you can find one that provides car seats, which they charge extra for.

2) The same goes for a cab.

3) Parking at the airport is frickin' expensive, unless you do remote parking and schlepping two kids on the monorail from remote parking would add just one extra step to an already potentially exhausting day of schlepping.

OK, leg one complete.  We pull up, put kids in Sit-and-Stand stroller, and get our luggage checked.  Miraculously, we only needed one suitcase and it came in under the 50 lb. limit...but just barely weighing in at 47.5 lbs.

With one less heavy item to lug, we make our way to security.  This is one of the most challenging aspects of traveling alone.  Luckily, I had already done this once before.  On our trip to Disney World in the September, I had taken the kids through security by myself while Tom parked the car in remote parking and met us at the gate.

So, here's what has to happen.  Step one; remove carry-on bag from the stroller handle that happens to weigh more then Colin.  How do I know this?  I learned the hard way when I put it on the stroller before putting Colin in and it tipped the stroller.  Then remove every one's shoes, jackets, laptop, cell phone and put in appropriate bins.  The last thing I do is remove Colin from the stroller to avoid having him run off.  Luckily friendly stranger number one has already stepped in and asked how he could help.  I took advantage of this and asked the man behind us to simply hold his hand and make sure he didn't run off.  From there I folded up the Sit-and-Stand and put it on the conveyor belt to be scanned along with a Princess wheelie backpack, my purse, the 35+ lb. carry-on and 3 bins full of miscellaneous shoes, jackets and electronic devices.  They even had to scan "Bubba," which caused a slight temper tantrum.  All the TSA workers and surrounding travelers stood at the other end of the X-Ray machine waiting for it to give birth to "Bubba" and we all cheered as he was reunited with Colin.

On to the gate.  Luckily we didn't have far to go and we got there with plenty of time to spare.  Next priority is to get Colin some breakfast and coffee for me. I had already given him a cereal bar and banana en route to the gate, but an oatmeal cookie rounded out the meal nicely and Maddie scored a chocolate chip cookie too.

It turns out that despite the fact I picked our seats out when I booked our flight online, our tickets show that Maddie is sitting in the back of the plane while Colin and I are in row 6.  The same thing happened the last time we flew.  I went to the ticket counter and they said the flight was full and there wasn't much they could do.  So, for those of you without children who have ever been approached by a frantic mother on a flight to switch seats, have a heart and switch with her.  She may look like a crazed lunatic who is far too frazzled to be organized and book her seats properly, but I can assure, it is likely the airline's fault.  OK, said my peace.  Luckily they were able to seat us together...in the last row.

I let Colin out of the stroller to run around the gate for a while, knowing he would be strapped down for the next 4 hours on the plane.  He drove his cars around on the ground, watched the planes and crawled under the seats where he managed to find a peanut M&M, which he promptly put into his mouth.  I was able to sweep it out, but pretty sure the damage was already done.  Then he made sure he licked the window just to make sure he got his daily allowance of germs.

OK, time to board the plane.  Everyone and everything is loaded on my semi-tractor trailer (AKA the stroller) and we head to the plane.  We get to the end of the Jetway where I have to unload the kids and stuff one more time.  Two women behind me offer to help.  They were both moms, so they understood what I needed. I tell the best thing they can do is make sure Colin doesn't run off while I fold up the stroller and gather our stuff.  The one learned very quickly why I asked this of her as Colin started to run towards the plane ahead of me.  She looked at me seeking my permission to touch him and I just said, "Go ahead and GRAB HIM!" She smiled and managed to get a hold of him before Colin could fly us to China.

We board the plane and as we walk down the aisle all the way to the back and Colin tests out every seat along the way and almost ends up in the lap of a guy in First Class to get a peek out the window.  I tell Colin we didn't pay for First Class and have to head the cheap seats.

We get settled in our seats and I begin by apologizing to the man who is fortunate to be sharing our row.  He assures me it will be fine and promptly puts his iPod earbuds in.

We haven't even left the gate and Maddie asks if we are flying yet.  She asks this approximately 15 more times before we actually take off.  Finally we are in the air and I can turn on the sacred portable DVD player.  Colin is not 2 yet, so I don't have to buy him a ticket, but that means he gets to sit on my lap for the next 4 hours.  After a few alligator rolls on my lap, I situate him between Maddie and I and they watch their movies.  The other key to having them behave is to continuously feed them.  They dined on cereal bars, Goldfish, fruit strips, pretzels, suckers, M&Ms and Colin ate half of my sandwich.  After a major carb load and nowhere to burn it off, they settled into a nice food coma and they didn't make a peep for the rest of the flight.

I kept thinking Colin had a dirty diaper, but realized it was just the smell coming from restrooms we were practically sitting in. I did have to maneuver the bathroom with both kids at one point to change Colin and make sure Maddie went potty too.  I wish I had a video of that because I still can't believe I was able to change him, have Maddie go and then go myself and wash our hands without someone getting sucked into the "Wild Blue Water."  I did have to send Maddie out of the bathroom before us so I could flush since she is afraid of loud noises.

After asking 347 times "Are we there yet?" we finally landed and now it was time to get off the plane.  We waited 15 minutes to exit and then it was time to get the stroller, load it up and head for baggage claim to get our suitcase.  I promptly went to the gift shop and bought Maddie a stuffed animal and Colin a toy plane for being so good on the plane.

From there we had to get on a shuttle bus to go to the rental car depot located 2 miles from the actual airport.  Again, I had extremely nice people assist me in getting Colin out of the stroller once again, loading the luggage and said stroller and make sure Colin didn't run away.

A woman on the bus was traveling with her husband and two young children and essentially told me I was crazy.  Oh well. What doesn't kill ya makes you stronger, right?  Unfortunately, my trip was only beginning and there was still a good chance it would kill me.  Right before we got off the shuttle I found a penny, heads side up, and had Maddie pick it up.  There may be hope after all.

We get to the car rental depot and just for effect, will mention that I had to unload the kids and all of our luggage and stroller and load everyone and everything in it and on it while dragging my 47.5 lb. suitcase.  The Hertz counter has a line a mile long and Colin has now fallen asleep in the stroller.  Suddenly a Hertz employee approaches me and asks if I am traveling alone.  After I tell her I am, she leads me to the elevator downstairs, takes my credit card and driver's license and goes ahead of another line of about 10 people and checks me in immediately.  Afterwards she hands me my paperwork and points to the brand new Camry with both car seats sitting next to the car that is only steps away from where I am standing.  I was expecting to have hoist two car seats off of a giant rack and then schlep them 14 rows to get to my car like we had to do in Orlando.  Lucky penny?  Travel Gods looking down on me?  Whatever the case may be, I almost cried and hugged this woman.  Once I installed the car seats, we were on our way.  We arrived at my brother's house 25 minutes later. 

At this point, I had been traveling since 7 a.m. and it was now 3:20 p.m. Mountain time.  I've been traveling for over 9 hours.

I have to admit; I had a little bit of anxiety about how the kids would adjust to being off schedule for the next 6 days.  I am somewhat addicted to routine and having the kids veer from their normal sleeping and eating schedules gave me the hives.  The first day, both kids napped for no more than a half hour and since we were all sleeping in the same bed, and Colin normally sleeps in a crib, the first night of sleep was "interesting."  We survived, but were slightly sleep deprived in the morning.  Between lack of naps and a poor night sleep, it took several days for the kids to adjust.  Luckily they still fared pretty well and Colin only got thrown out of the gym daycare once for being super crabby, out-of-sorts and hitting other kids.  (Yes, I was fortunate enough to find a Lifetime Fitness in the town my brother lives in and yes, I did workout while I was on vacation.)

After 6 days of hanging with family and soaking up some sun and enjoying 78-degree temperatures, it was time to head home.  I started to get anxious the night before as I began to pack.  Collecting all of the "paraphernalia" including baby monitors, stuffed animals, shoes, blankets along with the idea of setting out to do the whole trip home was enough to give me a panic attack.  I am shocked I actually slept that night, but I think I was so tired from worrying I managed a respectable 6.5 hours of sleep.

As I was packing, I realized that I forgot to bring something very important on this trip, my Ruby Slippers.  All I wanted to do at this point was click my heals three times and say, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home." 

I collected all of our belongings and headed off to the airport at 7 a.m. and ended up hitting traffic due to an accident on the freeway.  I was stressed to the max knowing that once I got to the airport, I would have to go through the whole rental car return followed by a 2 mile shuttle ride before I could even check in.  Luckily nice stranger number 6 stepped in. He said he had 3 kids and simply asked, "What do you need me to do to help you."  I put him in charge of making sure Colin didn't run in front of a bus.  He simply said, "Alright, guys let's go!"  When I got on the bus he had Colin on his lap and Maddie sitting quietly next to him like he was long lost Uncle Joe.

By the time we got to the ticket counter, I only had 1 hour and 10 minutes before my flight left.  With 25 people in line at the ticket counter and my inability to weave throughout the serpentine line with my Mac Truck of a stroller, 47.5 lb. suitcase, princess backpack, purse etc., I sought out a U.S. Airways worker.  She looked at me like I had 7 heads, but sent me to a line with two people in it.  Unfortunately for me, one of those people was moving to Poland with her 18 month old daughter and was checking 3 gigantic bags, a car seat, stroller and had also failed to realize that despite she was a lap child, she had to pay 10% of the ticket for an International flight.  The other person in front of me was paying to check his bags in Pesos.

At this point, I had 9 minutes to check in and I frantically looked around for someone to help me.  I saw a U.S. Airways employee directing people in the regular line that had I weaved through, I would already be checked in.  I told the man my situation and said I didn't realize I had been put in the International line.  He gave me a dirty look and said, "You weren't put in the International line. You were put in that line because you have too much CRAP."  The only response I could manage was, "I have two kids. What do you want me to do?"  From there I burst into tears.  The man snatched my credit card and driver's license from me and went to the computer.  I grabbed my stuff and tearfully made my way to the counter.  I managed to call the guy an asshole to the nun in line behind me.  Oops.  Although I am pretty sure she would agree.  Maddie saw me crying and then she started crying and wanted to know what was wrong.  At this point Mr. Asshole didn't know what to say especially after his coworker explained why the line was moving so slowly and that most of the "crap" he assumed was mine, actually belonged to the woman in front of me going to Poland.  A couple who was also traveling with a young child stopped me and said they heard what the guy had said to me and filed a complaint for me.  I got my tickets and my belongings and trucked off to security. 

Shoes off.  Stroller unloaded and folded.  Nice women behind me helped control Colin.  Sippy cups tested for potentially lethal skim milk and we made it through security.  We got to the gate with just enough time to hit the potty and grab some food for the plane ride.  We started down the Jetway and were greeted by a flight attendant.  She asked if I was "Mrs. Stein."  At that point I chose not to correct her and just said "yes."  She said she had heard we had a hard time checking in.  I was waiting for her to upgrade us to First Class, but all she could offer were stupid stories about her four boys and how poorly they behaved.  Little did she know my kids misbehaving was not an issue, it was the Asshole at the ticket counter who misbehaved. 

The only thing they did was let the kids in the cockpit to meet the pilot and Colin promptly pushed every button he could.  They told me to get my camera and take a picture of him sitting in the captain' seat.  Really?  You expect me to dig through my bags right now and find my camera for this photo op?  I managed to find my phone and got a picture.  After 10 annoyed people behind me made their way around my stuff to get to their seat, I just wanted to sit down.  We made our way to the LAST row.  I could tell all the people watching us board were hoping and praying we weren't sitting next to them.

We finally sat down, took off and I happily turned on a movie for the kids.  Colin fell asleep and I read my People magazine.  Three-in-a-half short hours later we landed and I was never so relieved to see my minivan pull up outside.  More importantly, I have never been so relieved to see my husband. 

So, we survived.  All I can say is thank God for portable DVD players, M&Ms and the kindness of strangers, especially one's with kids who didn't hesitate to lend a hand.  I wish I could say the same for the U.S Airways employees who will prevent me from ever flying their airline again. 



Chunks

I had a hard time deciding if I should title this blog "Chunks,"  "Barf-o-Rama "or "Birth Control."  I figured most of my blogs could be titled "Birth Control," so I went with "Chunks."

Yes, a stomach virus has hit our home and as of right now, Colin is the only victim.  I am just waiting for one of us to be next.

I already know I jinxed myself because last week I told my brother, who lives in Arizona, that this Winter hasn't been "that bad."  I continued by saying that we've had snow, but nothing that major.  Of course now we are under a Winter Storm Warning/Watch/Advisory, whatever you want to call it.  All I know is we are in for at least a foot of snow if not more.

The next day, I was talking to a friend of mine who said she had a really bad flu bug or virus and it was so bad she was hospitalized.  I said how we have been relatively fortunate that we have had mainly colds and no "puking" incidents.  Jinxed.

Day 1

It was Sunday night and I was catching up on my "Jersey Shore" and relaxing.  I started to think about the coming week and that I needed to get a bunch of stuff accomplished before the storm hit on Tuesday, including grocery shopping.  I also wanted to go to the gym and then take the kids swimming at the health club since we'd likely be cooped up the latter part of the week.  I also was thinking that Tuesday morning would be a good day for us to meet up with my friend and her son at Monkey Joe's for the same reason.

Next thing ya know, I hear choking and gagging coming from Colin's room.  I walk in to find him lying in a pool of "chunks."  Let's just say we won't be having Johnsonville Cheddarwurst for a VERY, VERY, VERY long time.  Great.  What could have caused this?  Did he eat something bad?  Find a stray sippy cup hiding in the cushions of the couch with sour milk?  He got a flu shot.  Could it be from licking the window at Maddie's dance class last week?  The possibilities are endless when you have a kid who, as I've mentioned, has also been known to play in the toilet.

I grabbed him and threw him in the tub where I stripped him down and scrubbed the vomit out of his crew cut.  Poor baby was gray and shivering.  I got him into a fresh pair of feetsie jammies ASAP and handed him off to Tom while I stripped the crib and worked to de-chunk his sheets.  His sacred "Bubbas" were soiled, but the official "Lion Bubba" was clean enough after a quick wipe down to comfort him in his time of need.

I finally got things cleaned up, sprayed some Lysol and hopped into bed with a stack of towels.  I knew we were in for a long night.  Luckily he fell asleep in our bed and only got up 2 times to throw up.  Both times I played good defense with the towels and avoided having major clean up in our bed as well.

Day 2

Morning came and he woke up in a good mood. We got a lot more sleep than I had thought we would.  He started playing and seemed hungry.  I started to feed him breakfast.  He ended up eating some banana and some Cheerios.   I ran upstairs to rip the sheets off of our bed, because while I was pretty successful with the towels, I was pretty sure there were some stray chunks somewhere.

As I finished pulling the last pillow case off I could the dreaded gag, choke, cough followed by liquid hit the floor...twice.  I ran down the stairs to find Colin standing in the foyer.  Oh thank GOD...most of it was on the Linoleum and only a little on the carpet.  Bubbas did not fair so well this time.  I grabbed the towels from the night before, a new batch of towels and the Bubbas to throw in the wash.  I think I was officially on my 3rd load of laundry that day and it was only 8:00 a.m.

I went back upstairs to get my sheets and Colin followed me.  I got him dressed and then threw my bedding down the stairs.  Colin got tangled up in the sheets and ended up tumbling down the stairs.  Great.  Now he's going to end up with a concussion and I won't know it because he is already throwing up.

Luckily the pile of blankets and sheets broke his fall and after a few tears, he was fine.  So fine, he managed to write on the kitchen chair with a pen and then crawl on the kitchen table to draw on his sister's picture. I finished disinfecting the foyer and cleaned the part of the carpet that got hit and set off to try and go to the grocery store.  I wanted to avoid giving Colin anything else to eat so I could get through the shopping trip.  Unfortunately, I walked in the kitchen and he had helped himself to some graham crackers from the pantry.  Thankfully those seemed pretty benign and crossed my fingers.  Meanwhile, Taz was barking at the back door and I asked Maddie to let him in for me.  I didn't realize until he traipsed around the entire house, that he was full of mud and snow.  I pushed the 4 laundry baskets out of the way and started to Swiffer the floor.

I talked to Tom who tried to discourage me from going promising he would take the 4:45 train so I could go later.  His intentions were good, but that would still get him home after 6 pm and with dinner and the potential for more clean up, that just didn't do me much good.  Did I mention our snow blower was broken and Tom needed to fix it before we got 50 feet of snow?

The shopping trip went OK, except he kept asking for his Bubba and crying the whole time.  I headed to the baby section and tried to find a replacement.  I figured it would be a good investment to have an spare since I had already washed his other ones 3 times in the last 24 hours. I also got some Pedialite hoping that if nothing else we could avoid a trip to the ER due to dehydration.  My question is, why can't they make flavored Pedialite without color?  The last thing I want to do is clean up orange or purple puke and I know they make the clear, but it has no flavor...but  I digress.

I ended up running into a friend of the family who must have known by the dark circles under my eyes, no make-up, hair in a messy bun, kid screaming and look of sheer exhaustion that I was having "one of those days."  My response, "you have know idea."  Of course, lucky for me, she did...she has three kids.

I also made sure I had ample supply of Clorox Bleach Spray, Antibacterial Swiffer solution and diapers in case things started coming out of both ends. Of course, the lines were a mile long because everyone else was trying to stock up before the storm and I just prayed he didn't blow chunks all over before we could get out of the store.  I was stocked up and survived without any major eruptions.

We got home and as I started to unload the groceries Madelyn realized that I didn't buy her a "Bubba" like Colin's.  She was too distracted by Skittles in the checkout line to notice I had put the stuffed bear aside to avoid paying an extra $15 bucks.  She started melting down and I tried to explain that he got one because he is sick and needed an extra one because he kept puking on his other ones.  She proceeded to try and make herself throw up so they would be on level playing ground in order to receive gifts.  Ugh.  I finally bribed her with 4 points which meant she gets to pick out a toy. (We were working on earning ten points if she listened.  She already had 6.)  I also gave her a bunch of Skittles.  Problem solved.

I was able to get some Pedialite and some crackers in him. I was afraid if I gave him much more he wouldn't be able to keep it down.  Unfortunately, he was hungry and kept going in the pantry to grab snacks.  I let him have some Goldfish Crackers to appease him and that seemed to do the trick.  He was able to get a good nap, but as soon as he woke up he got that look in his eyes and before I knew it, the Goldfish were swimming in a pool of Pedialite on the foyer floor.  (Yes, I grabbed him off the couch and brought him over to our new favorite puke spot).

No more puking that night.  Once the kids went down to bed I was able to fold the 13 loads of laundry I had done throughout the day.  I looked down at my hands between the excessive hand washing and Clorox wipes, I looked like I lost a match of bloody knuckles.  I was worried I would bleed all over the whites.  I also caught a whiff of puke and realized that despite rinsing and then washing the jammies he'd been wearing the night before, they still wreaked.

Day 3

Next day, we still couldn't go anywhere since he hadn't been puke free for 24 hours yet.  The snow started to come down and by 3 pm, we couldn't go anywhere even if we wanted to.  Tom got home early and I made dinner.  All was good.  Nice dinner, no one seemed to be sick, Tom wasn't going to work tomorrow and we were well stocked with wine to celebrate Blizzard 2011 once the kids went to bed.  Then began the negotiation for Maddie to finish her dinner.  At this point all she had eaten was one bite of chicken, a bite of rice, two carrots and some grapes. Despite this, she requested dessert.  I stood my ground and said no, unless she ate more.  She refused and Tom sat there coaching her through 3 more bites of chicken and a bite of rice.  She refused, but continued to cry scream and ask for dessert.  She arrived back at the table to eat enough to earn her dessert, but was so worked up at that point, she threw up all over the kitchen table and her remaining dinner.

I took a deep breath and began cleaning up the chunks. The rest of the night, all I could smell was the lingering aroma of puke despite changing clothes.  I also realized that Colin's head still smelled like a combination of Cheddarwurst and stomach acid even thought I had given him two baths.  Also, my guess that things would start happening on the other end was correct.  Despite a reprieve from chunkage, I had several blowouts to change.

I touched base with my friend who we were supposed to go to Monkey Joe's with and told her we needed to reschedule for next week.  She commented on how she was dreading the day she would have to deal with throw up since her 2 year old has yet to have a bought with a stomach virus and at least I was "good with puke."  Hmm.  Maybe I could put that on my resume in the future? I'm not sure what kind of job that qualifies me for, but my friend assured me she'd hire me.

Day 4

I woke up to 5 foot snow drifts in my yard and the cabin fever was really starting to set in.  At least the kids seemed healthy today.  It took Tom about 2 hours to plow our driveway (yes, the snow blower was fixed in time).  I brought the kids out to play in the snow, but Colin looked like he was ready to curl up in a ball and take a nap on the laundry room floor while I was putting his snow pants on.  We went outside for a total of 5 minutes before Colin fell in the snow and instead of getting up, just laid in the snow.  My attempt to socialize with neighbors and soak up some sunlight was foiled.

I started preparing beef stew for the crock pot.  I warmed up the garage, put the kids down for naps and hopped on the elliptical machine for about an hour.  It was the closest thing I could get to "escaping."  Then I came inside and Maddie woke up from her nap and we baked chocolate chip cookies.  She was off to watch the 15th Disney movie this week and I baked some Beer Bread.  Wondered if anyone would notice if I just drank a beer at 3 pm?  Never mind, it would just make me tired.

I thought we were out of the woods until I heard Colin in the middle of the night.  It was faint, but I knew exactly what it was...more chunks.  Tom later asked how I even heard him.  I told him that only a mother could wake up out of a sound sleep even from the most stealth vomiting.  I got up, got him cleaned up, handed him off to Tom and stripped the sheets. The first night he was so miserable he just curled up and fell asleep and only got up to puke. This time he was all over the place.  We weren't as sympathetic this time and he only lasted about 10 minutes in our bed before I just put him back down in his crib. 

Day 5

I had to get out of the house.  Come hell or high snow drifts.  I was going crazy.  Plus, I was running out of wine, bananas and milk.  The three staples I cannot live without.  Luckily Tom stayed home from work an extra day and I went to the gym and Target.  I also needed to buy supplies to make Gumbo, thanks to Disney movie #12 over the last few days, "Princess and the Frog" set in New Orleans. You would have thought I won a trip to Hawaii.  I was so happy.  I even got a nap in the afternoon and we went out to dinner.  It was nice not to feel like a shut-in.

We are now 36 hours puke free and I am hoping things get back to normal **knock on wood**  Wouldn't want to jinx myself again..  Here's the upshot, none of the rest of us got it **knock on wood** (unless you count drama induced puking) and I learned to make a pretty mean gumbo.

Chef Boy R Me

Perhaps one of the most stressful aspects of being a parent, at least at this point, involves what the kids eat, don't eat and what I feed them.

I always had these ideas that I would be the parent to make sure my kids had a healthy diet.  I wouldn't feed them junk food, would only have fast food on a rare and special occasion and even attempted to make my own baby food at the beginning.

All sounds good in theory, until they are actually alive and present and you realize what a daunting process the simple task of feeding your family really is.  Also nice to think that your kids won't know what a Happy Meal is until you find yourself having to squeeze a doctor's appointment, grocery shopping, a trip to the dry cleaners, pick up a prescription at Walgreen's and eat lunch all before nap time.  It is then you realize life would be so much easier if you just went to McDonald's and didn't have to worry about making lunch when you got home especially when you have to unload all the groceries and put them away.  Then you see the sheer joy on your child's face as they dip their fries in that special McDonald's ketchup and their eyes light up like Christmas morn when they get their toy.  And you know full well "they" (meaning the Marketing Department at McDonald's) has you hook, line and sinker.

From the day they were born, I was concerned with how many ounces they took in, were they going to spit it up, whether they had reflux, gas or constipation.  I had to make sure I ate enough to produce enough milk and then I had to make sure that I ate healthfully, yet avoid foods that could affect their tummies. I had to continue to take prenatal vitamins and DHA to ensure proper brain development.  Then, I had to give them vitamin D supplements, since apparently I wasn't providing enough through breast milk.  I think I covered the additional trials and tribulations of this phase in my prior post "BOOBIES!"

We transitioned well into the whole cereal, fruits, veggies and oatmeal phase.  Like I said, I tried to be "au natural" and make my own baby food a food mill.  No matter how hard I tried, I could never get the right consistency. I decided either I would keep nursing or make my own food, but not both.  I did opt for Organic baby food, but even that was lost on poor Colin. It was easier to pay double for baby food when I was still working, but I couldn't really justify it once I was without an income.  

It goes without saying; Maddie is my "picky eater." Introducing solids to both kids came with a lot of gagging, spitting up and puking.  Colin got over this pretty quickly once he realized how much he loved food and wouldn't dare throw it up.  Maddie, on the other hand, completely skipped over the "Stage 3" foods that had little bits or chunks of veggies, pasta or meat. She lived on slices of American cheese and Puffs for awhile and I was lucky she continued to eat baby food until well after her first birthday. I would also have to put the food on her tray in "shifts" starting with the healthiest foods first and then working my way up to the foods with less nutritional value.

She can essentially look at a food item and decide in advance whether or not she will try it. The kid will not eat peanut butter and jelly or any "sandwich" of any kind except grilled cheese.  No hot dogs, lunch meat, pudding, yogurt, Jell-o, bananas, cooked carrots, she refuses to put milk in her cereal, no Spaghetti-o's or Chef Boy R D product of any kind (a blessing in disguise, if you as me). Pasta sauce is only acceptable on pizza.  Makes packing a picnic lunch, well, anything but a picnic. 

Her daily diet rarely ever veers off course.  Breakfast is waffles or pancakes and eggs with cheese on them.  I take some extra time making breakfast, because it is one of the meals she actually eats.  Lunch is usually "long noodles" (aka, spaghetti with butter, Parmesan cheese and little garlic salt), Mickey Mouse Chicken Nuggets or soup along with a fruit or vegetable. Dinner, of all things, is Tortilla Encrusted Tilapia from Costco 65% of the time.  Thankfully she will also eat pork chops, steak and grilled chicken as long as it is well seasoned and I do a great deal of convincing, bribing and negotiating. She will eat raw carrots, corn, but only on the cob, cooked green beans and another oddity, edamame.  Fruit is much easier, like strawberries, apples, grapes, pineapple, etc. She does, however consider salt a major food group.  She insists on watching me put it on her eggs, on her edamame and likes that disgusting butter salt for popcorn.  If I tell her I already put it on, she doesn't believe me.  She needs to see the crystals on her food.  This kid is going to have high blood pressure at the age of 4.

Looking at this list of things she does eat, I realize she has come a long way, but just when I think I've made something she likes, the next time she turns her nose up at it. Or, there are "old standbys" like grilled cheese and her Tilapia, which she eats to the point where she gets sick of them and the novelty wears off.  Kind of like working in an ice cream shop and getting to the point where the thought of eating ice cream makes you ill.

I got my hand slapped by my pediatrician when I went for her 2-year check up.  He told me the two biggest No-No's in feeding a toddler are 1) Do not make them something different than what the rest of the family is eating and 2) Do not try to feed them something else if they refuse what you made for dinner.

Guilty and Guilty.

I did stop trying to force a Kashi Cereal Bar on her before bedtime if she didn't eat dinner like I used to.  I always feared she would wake up in the middle of the night screaming because she was starving.  Turns out she would wake up screaming for a variety of other reasons, but never starvation.  I still make the kids a variation of what we are eating.  I know full well my daughter will not eat Shepherd's Pie, a Turkey Burger, Lasagna, Enchiladas, Stuffed Chicken, a Pulled Pork Sandwich or any variety of other things I make on a regular basis.  Even when I have tried to force her eat them she either refuses or gags on them and spits it out.  I honestly cannot deny her a meal when I know there are things that she will eat if I just make them.  So, give me a parenting demerit, but I will be a short order cook if it means my kid eats.

Colin is definitely easier and he usually gets whatever we are eating and then some!  It is amazing how much less stressful it is to feed him.  Mealtime is much more Zen, until he takes the leftover food and starts flinging it.  Luckily, there usually isn't much to spare.  The rest of the time I spend negotiating with Maddie with "3 more bites of meat and 3 more beans."

I bought all the books like Jessica Seinfeld's "Deceptively Delicious" and "365 Foods Kids Love" that have recipes where you puree veggies and fruit and hide them in food.  Even those foods are not things Maddie would eat even if she couldn't detect the healthiness. I don't know who these ladies are trying to kid, but  foods like Green Eggs, Oatmeal, Avocado Spread, Meatballs of any kind and Beef Stew, would not fly with my texture-sensitive child.  Besides, my days of "pureed food" are over and while it seems so simple just to put healthy fruits and veggies in a blender or food processor, I find it to be more work than I can handle.  Don't get me wrong, I love to cook, but not with the kind of food they give patients at a nursing home.

And to add insult to injury, I have a husband who is probably just as picky, if not more-so than my kids.  He doesn't like to veer from the norm and about the only vegetables I can get him to eat are green beans, edamame and corn.  Sound familiar?  He doesn't like onions, so most recipes are out of the question.  He still doesn't understand why they are essential in making pasta sauce.  I try hard to mix things up and try new things. I also try to make healthy food, and limit the amount of processed food I serve.  I even went so far as to buy "Eat Clean Diet" cookbooks.  Most of the food was fairly straightforward and is food I would eat, but serving to my family was a whole other thing.

I try as hard as I can to make meals as healthy as possible and buy healthy snacks, or at least things that aren't "so bad."  I say that because I know most snacks that are touted as "healthy" are really just crap repackaged. I don't ever buy regular chips.  I opt for Baked Chips, Veggie Straws, Pretzels and Light Popcorn.  Even our Goldfish are Whole Grain, for what it's worth. I use Fiber One Pancake Mix so they get extra fiber and get the Nutrigrain Eggo Waffles.  They barely drink juice and if they do it is reduced sugar. They are good at drinking milk and the rest of the time they drink water. They are only allowed to have pink lemonade on very rare occasions.  I always use 100% whole wheat bread, tortillas and pasta.  I use 2% Cheese and Promise Light instead of Butter.  I don't worry about Organic, because like the baby food, it ends up costing just too damn much, especially when you have a son who eats you out of house and home and you find half-full sippy cups of milk laying between couch cushions that have been out several hours.  I refuse to dump milk down the drain that costs $6.50 a gallon.

The other day we were at the gym and we got a snack in the Cafe. Maddie was busy eating her pretzels and Colin was eating an apple and was sharing my protein shake with me. I looked over and saw Maddie pouring the salt from the bottom of the bag into her mouth.  Hand hit my forehead. Now I am worried that one kid will be healthy while the other will either starve or become a future contestant on Biggest Loser because she lives on Chicken Strips, French Fries and pizza.  I know, that is horrible to think, but as someone who is very health conscious and does everything in her power to eat healthy, (except when it comes to my sweet tooth) I feel guilty every time we go out to eat and I order them chicken strips and fries and watch them pull the chicken directly out of a boiling vat of oil, plop them on an equally greasy pile of fries and bring them to the table for my kids to consume.  Then, have them dunk everything in ketchup and ranch.  I really think these two condiments should be added to the food pyramid.  Unfortunately, for my kids, it should be that long thick band on the bottom rather than a little point at the top.  But ketchup is made out of tomatoes so it is a vegetable, right.  Or is it a fruit?  Either way, I am pretty sure corn syrup is neither a fruit nor vegetable.

Most of this is my own issue.  For most of you that know me, I am your typical "Sally-On-The-Side" when it comes to ordering at restaurants.  Tom always says the kiss of death when we go to restaurants is when I utter the word "substitute."  This is one area where my "Type A" personality comes out; my desire to control everything I put into my body. In a perfect world and if I had a million dollars, our family would eat the best organic produce. Our meat and dairy products would be hormone free and all of these things would come from local farms.  I would be able to pronounce every ingredient on my food labels. We would never eat fast food and if we did eat at a restaurant, I could order them "Grilled Chicken Fingers" and a side of apples, carrots or broccoli off the kids menu and they wouldn't complain.  But I am also realistic and know full well that I am doing better than most. I have created a "Prayer of Serenity" specifically for feeding my family:

God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change about my family's eating habits;

courage to change the recipes to healthy ones when I can;

and hope they won't know the difference.

Living one meal at a time;

Enjoying one bite at a time;

Accepting chocolate chips as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as my Mom did, this sinful world of processed food and preservatives

as it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that Flintstone vitamins will make all things right

if I surrender to Happy Meals;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life

and supremely happy when my kids eat green vegetables

Protein and Whole Grains.

Amen.

There really is only so much you can do when it comes to feeding your children, as much those smiling ladies on the covers of those books tell you.  My rule is McDonald's no more than once a week and when we do go, one gets apples with their Happy Meal and one gets fries, and divide each between the two.  I still say, “Everything in moderation.”  I still think kids deserve to eat McDonald's once in awhile, Dum-Dum suckers are sometimes the only way to get through certain situations and chocolate chip cookies, quite frankly, are good for the soul.  I guess I will just have to do what I have learned to do with most things in life since having kids...lower my standards and expectations just a bit.

Mighty, Mighty Boss Toe

The whole concept of this blog centers around all the times I call my mom to tell her about the funny, annoying, exhausting and downright ridiculous parts of my life.  However, the main theme in most of my calls to her involves "I'm Sorry."

I remember a good portion of my childhood and I know full-well, that I was a typical little girl, followed by adolescent, followed by teenager and well, you get the picture.  I am the youngest of three children and the only girl.  I whined, I cried, I threw temper tantrums when I didn't get what I wanted.  I didn't understand the concept of sharing my toys because my brothers never cared much about my Strawberry Shortcake house or Barbies (unless of course they were popping their heads off.)  Worst of all I was dramatic, stubborn and bossy.

Fast forward to today and my daughter, Madelyn and well, ain't payback a bitch? I joke that she and I are already developing a tumultuous mother-daughter relationship at an early age.  It all started the day she was born, really.  I looked at my beautiful daughter and investigated her every feature.   She was so delicate.  Those tiny fingers and tiny toes...and then BAM!  There IT was.  The "Boss Toe."

You know, when the second toe is longer than the big toe?  The medical term for this condition is "Morton's Toe" and it could cause a lot of pain and discomfort as well as foot problems.  All I know is that it means you are going to be the "boss of your family."  I know this, because I have the same toe.

I've always tried to think of myself not so much as bossy, but more of a leader.  The responsible one who can take care of things that need to be taken care of.  But, who am I kidding?  I am quite simply a bossy know-it-all and can truly appreciate this aspect of my personality better because I have created a little clone of myself.

When it comes to playing with friends, she goes back and forth between leading the poor neighbor girl around front yard telling her what to do, to following random girls around at the playground desperate for them to notice her and play with her.  She takes great delight in meeting "new friends."

We have been trying desperately to teach Madelyn to always say "Please and Thank You" since she was a baby.  Before she could talk, she did it sign language.  Now that she talks (and boy does she talk!), we insist she ask for things politely.  Instead, it goes something like this:
Madelyn: Get me some milk!
Me: What do you say?
Madelyn: Please?
Me: How about you start over and ask the right way...Please may I have some milk?
Madelyn: Please have I may some more milk?
Good enough.

But 20 minutes later, she will yell "I want crackers!"

And the list goes on and on
"Mom, I'm awake!" When she gets up in the morning.  Despite the fact she is in a "big girl bed" and has the ability to get in and out, she will not get out until I come get her.

"Mom, I'm done going potty!"

"Where's my food?"

"Turn my show on!"

I am, for all intents and purposes, an indentured servant.

Now, she is picking up on several sayings that I know full well she has picked up from me.

Like, "OK, here's the deal.  You put Colin to bed and then I can get ready for bed and come back downstairs for a little while."

Or my favorite was the other day when we were taking down the Christmas tree.  I told her if she found "the Pickle" I would give her a treat.  She was pulling of ornaments and garland like there was no tomorrow and for the most part was being "helpful." However, she was getting a little over-zealous and I was worried she was going to break something.  I kept trying to distract her with the pickle hunt so I could finish without her breaking something.  She finally said, "Mom, will you chill out.  I will find the pickle. OK?"

Oh, sweet Jesus.  Did my baby girl just say that?

When our little arguments about whether or not she will go potty, eat her dinner, or get moving so we can leave the house, get heated I always remind her that "I am the boss" and she quickly retorts, "No, I am the boss."

At least she is willing to share "the boss" duty with me when it comes to reprimanding Colin.  He was getting in to trouble the other day and she was right next to me telling him to "get off of the dog!" and informed me that both she and I were the boss.

I am fairly certain that little girls develop some sort of "cycle" early on, because her, shall we say "bitch factor" intensifies every couple of weeks.  And let me just say, she needs a good dose of Midol this week.  It all started on Tuesday when I met a friend at Monkey Joes (one of those bouncy places).  She immediately found a new friend and they played nicely together for the whole time we were there.  From there we went to McDonald's and somehow she convinced me to go into the Playland.  After noticing the Nintendo game console located in the Playland that Colin was licking was crusted with about 10 years of grime, I decided we had enough germs for one day.  I told her she had one more minute.  Finally, Maddie came down from the tubes and said she didn't want to leave and then noticed the video game too.  There was already a girl on the game and Maddie went into full meltdown mode.  It was like a scene from the Exorcist and I don't know if anyone else saw it, but I swear her head spun.   I hauled out the serious "Mom Voice" got down close to her face and told her to knock it off and that we were leaving.  I clinched my jaw and talked through my teeth like all the best moms do. I tried not to raise my voice, but despite this, I could feel everyone staring at me.  Oh, come on.  Judge me if you want, ladies, but you all know full well you've had to surgically remove your kid from the tube/slide apparatus at some point in your life. Somehow I got her into the car despite the kicking and screaming and strapped in her in her car seat.  I sat at the steering wheel and just took a deep breath.  Thank God for nap time.

Then yesterday, she made up for it by being a good girl all day.  Then came the after-dinner fizzle.  This the time of day where I have the hardest time keeping things under control.  They are both a combination of wound up and tired and I need to find something to do to occupy them until bedtime.  Longest 3 hours of my life, especially since Tom is only around for about an hour of that time.

Maddie was using her new notepad with lines on it intended for practicing her letters.  I showed her the sample of D'Nealian Alphabet and she immediately picked up on the fact that there were two "o's" her favorite letter.  I tried to explain to her the difference between upper and lower case and attempted to show her on the paper.  She threw a fit and said "NO, NO, NO! I am trying to do something!!!"

Five minutes later she was cutting a piece of paper and I noticed she was cutting with her thumb down.  Her teacher had noted this during our conference, so I tried to correct her.  More push-back.

Ok, fine.  I backed off.  I tried to tell her that I was merely trying to teach her something and if she didn't let people help her learn, she would flunk out of Preschool.  Over exaggerating? Oh yeah.  Tom got home and tried to help her with her letter writing skills, and he saw first hand what I had just experienced. 

Then came some "quiet time" on the couch.  Maddie was playing with her new Leapster and I offered to help her play games so she could "unlock" more colors on the sketch pad.  Hard to explain, but let's just say, once again, she didn't want any help what-so-ever and it ended with her and I playing tug-o-war with the effing Leapster.  I finally ripped it from her clutches before the stylise was yanked from it's cord and sent her up stairs for bath and bed.  Even Tom raised his voice at her (which rarely happens) and from there she was in hysterics.  I plopped her on the pot and she proceeded to cry so hard she puked.

More sobbing, more tears and finally she settled down and said she was sorry, without prompting, to both Tom and I.  I felt better about my "flunking out of Preschool" comment when Tom told me he talked to her and said if she acted that way she wouldn't have any friends. 

Bedtime could not come soon enough and by the time I had her feetsie jammies on her she was calm and loving.  We made up and I reminded her that when I try to tell her things, it is almost always to help her.  I also reminded her of the "Golden Rule" and that she should treat others the way she wants to be treated.  She smiled nodded and gave me a hug. 

I have a feeling I am in for a long road with this child. If 3 years old is this hard, I can only imagine what 13 will be like.  I can only hope she finds a nice, patient man like her father to put up with her the way he puts up with me.

Women Who Talk to Elves.

I find myself having a "love-hate" relationship with our Elf on the Shelf.  Half of me is pissed because I had one of these elves when I was a kid and it didn't come in a pretty box with a storybook and he never reported to Santa on whether or not I was being good.  He just hung from the light fixture over our kitchen table.  We actually had two and they were by far my most favorite Christmas decoration of my childhood.  I just wish my mom had been a little more creative and, at the very least, told us the elves were watching us at dinner to see if we ate our vegetables.  But I guess that is expecting a little much since I only believed in Santa until I was four.

I can forgive the fact that my brother blurted out "There's no such thing as Santa, stupid," while we were shopping in Jewel when I asked my mom "how many more days 'til Santa?" I can forgive the fact that I am not making millions off of the marketing juggernaut that is "Elf on a Shelf” all because I can use this little guy to my full advantage for the duration of the Holiday Season.

For those of you who aren't familiar with the concept, you get this Elf in a box along with a book that in a nutshell says you are supposed to name this elf and he will watch over everything your kid(s) do and each night report back to Santa if they have been good or bad and then reappear the next morning.  Part of the fun is hiding the elf in various spots in the house and having the kids find him.  We only started that part of the tradition this week.

We named our elf  "Bubble Pop."  So, since December 2, I have been threatening my daughter with Bubble Pop and it has worked out pretty well, most of the time.   All those issues I've mentioned in previous blogs about trying to get out of the house, all I have to do is tell her Bubble Pop is watching and she quits her lolly gagging and puts her boots on, coat, gets in the car, whatever the case may be and I have shaved an average of about 3 minutes off my departure times.

This week has been particularly challenging, as we get closer to the Christmas.  I don't know if it was all the excitement of her school Christmas Program, followed by a party, followed by a large bag of candy and treats, but Madelyn has been extra "Sassy."  There has been a lot of obstinance, foot stomping and my favorite, sigh of disgust.  (Can't imagine where she learns these things?)

Yesterday, it went something like this:

Me: Madelyn, go potty.

Madelyn: No, I don't have to go potty.

Me: We are going to the store and you need to go potty before we leave.  Please, go potty.

Madelyn: I DON'T HAVE TO GO!!! (Foot stomp)

Me: Seriously?  For a little girl who wants Santa to bring her lots of presents this week, you aren't being very nice.  Now, go potty. Bubble Pop is watching you!

Madelyn: I SAID I DON'T  HAVE TO GO! (Double foot stomp)

Before my blood pressure rose and smoke came out my ears, I turned to my old pal, Bubble Pop.  Luckily he was on the shelf behind me. And there I was, talking directly to Bubble Pop. I was tattling on my 3 year old to a frickin' elf.

Me: Bubble Pop, Madelyn is not listening to me.  You need to go back and tell Santa that she has not been a very nice girl...

And before I could finish, I heard the sigh of disgust and a "fine, I'll go potty" she was off.  Thank God, because I could hardly keep a straight face. 

I have to admit, I feel kind of guilty...but only a little.  It occurs to me that this whole Christmas thing is really a racket.  Come to think of it, if I was a government official, I could probably be impeached and sent to jail for my actions.  Let's start with the lesser infraction of tattling.  Not something I encourage unless Colin is pulling down a lamp, art on the wall, our dogs' tail or is in some other grave danger.

Then there is forgery.  Every time I write a label, "To: Maddie From: Santa" I feel guilty.  Thus far, have been fortunate that Madelyn a) can't read and b) wouldn't know my handwriting or printing for anything. But she is getting older, smarter and above all else, has a phenomenal memory.  I worry more that she will recognize the wrapping paper Santa uses as the same paper I bought at Target last week.

I think it goes without saying that adultery should be added to the mix.  After all, I was caught "Kissing Santa Claus," wasn't I?

Bribery seems to be the gift that keeps on giving and is one I use all year-round.  I am also happy to know that I am not the only parent who does this seeing as how I heard a woman yell at her son from across the store, "I will buy you a Snickers bar if you get over here right now!"  I personally keep Target Corporation in business one dollar at a time due to their "$1 Bins."

In the end I feel like a big fraud.  By definition, fraud is deceit, trickery, sharp practice, or breach of confidence, perpetrated for profit or to gain some unfair or dishonest advantage. Deceit? Check.  Trickery? Check.  Breach of confidence? Only when they learn the truth, I suppose.  Dishonest advantage? You bet.

Other definitions say fraud is a "deliberate misrepresentation, which causes another person to suffer damages, usually monetary loss." I guess in this case, my kids certainly aren't "suffering" based on the number of presents they will receive this year and the only monetary loss is from our own checking account.

Ok, so I am not going to jail for pretending to be Santa or for telling my kids that this little plastic elf is going to report to Santa and if they are bad, they won't get presents.  But all this lying is a lot of work and requires creativity and will only get harder as they get older.

My biggest fear, however, is the week after Christmas when I can no longer use Bubble Pop and the threat of returning all their toys wears off.  I guess maybe I should start developing a prototype for an Easter Bunny on a shelf?

I'm Late! I'm Late! For....Pretty Much Everything.

I have always been chronically late, but now I have an excuse.  I have 2 kids.

I remember as a kid, especially in high school, my mom yelling at me to get out of bed. She would even go so far as to rip the covers off me to get me "up and at 'em."  I would usually push it to the last possible moment and then run around the house trying to get out the door and to school on time.  My mom always noted that I had no "routine" in the morning and never did the same thing twice.

Some things never change.  Oddly, I have become quite the morning person.  I often get up at 6 a.m. to make sure I can eat my breakfast, check my email, Facebook, watch the news and write my blog.  I eat the same thing every morning and have a very specific routine.  When the kids wake up, I try to have a system for getting them fed and dressed in the morning, but somewhere along the way I always misjudge how much time it takes to get them ready and out the door.  On top of all this, I married another chronically late person.  Not only do I have to battle my own punctuality demons, I have to compensate for his.

I really started to beat myself up over our constant frantic pace and started to really pay attention to what holds us up when we need to be somewhere.

Here's a typical day.

I run upstairs to get Colin's shoes from his room and notice that he had stepped in dog poo in the yard yesterday and have to use an unfolded paper clip to clean the poo out of the grooves.

I get downstairs and realized I forgot to close the door to the laundry room and find Colin eating dog food, putting handfuls of it in the dogs' water bowl and then splashing in the water and based on the fact his socks are soaking wet, I am assuming that he also stood in the water bowl.  Too bad he didn't have his shoes on, he could have cleaned them off for me.

I go on to get Maddie ready and have to tear her away from what she is doing to get her dressed.  She dances around and does everything but focus on the task at hand.  I go to put her socks on her and she complains that she doesn't want the Princess socks, she wants Cars socks.  She doesn't want to wear a pink rubber brand in her hair, she wants a blue one. I try to explain that the blue pony holder doesn't match her pink shirt and the blue socks with a giant red Lightning McQueen on them really don't go with her black Mary Janes.  I give up and embrace our Polish heritage and allow her to wear a hot pink shirt, blue pony holder, purple pants, bright turquoise socks and black shoes.  The illustrious pony tail comes next.  This is a self inflicted obsession I have.  Maddie has really thin, fine hair and I do my best to make it as neat and tight as possible.  Regardless of my efforts, she often ends up looking homeless.

Ok, now for coats.  Maddie is trying to learn to put her coat on herself, and she lays it on the floor and then lays on her back on top of it and tries to put it on from there.  Seems good in theory, but her coordination, or lack thereof, makes it a daunting task.  Her teacher requested the kids learn how to put their coats on themselves to make getting ready to go outside easier and I suddenly picture her placing her coat on the floor of the hallway and sprawling out.  Something tells me that this method will do nothing to aid the teachers in their efforts to get the kids ready faster.

Colin is a whole different beast, and I do mean BEAST, when it comes to putting his coat on.  He hates it and bucks and cries and buckles at the knees while I am trying to put it on him.  OK, everyone is dressed and ready to go and I made the mistake of putting my coat on first, so I am dripping in sweat.  What's that smell?  Colin has poops.  I refuse to take his coat off to change him, and I battle to get a clean diaper on him while he twists and turns and tries to get away, grab a toy or worst of all, the poopy diaper I just took off of him.

Time to finally get the kids in the car.  While he I put Colin in his car seat and he starts crying because I forgot his "Bubba" (stuffed lion).  I tell Maddie to get in her car seat while I run inside to get Colin's animal.  Grab it, run out, put Maddie in her seat.  Both want a milk.  Run in get sippy cups filled with milk and realize the dogs are outside.  Let them in, but have to clean off their paws since it is wet outside. Run upstairs yelling "Nite-nite, Kira" so I can lock him up in our room. Then realize I had put a load oft laundry in earlier in the morning and forgot to switch it to the dryer.  Stop everything, switch laundry.  Get in the car.  Now I have really worked up a sweat.

OK, the goal is, or should I say was, to get to the gym for a 9:00 a.m. cycle class.  It is 8:59 as I pull down the driveway.  We get to the gym at 9:04 and I grab the kids and my stuff and race in.  Colin has not quite grasped the concept of wrapping his legs around me when I carry him, so he is essentially dead weight as I carry him in.  Look for my gym pass in my purse which also acts as my diaper bag.  Somewhere buried in their amidst the smashed Goldfish crackers, wipes and cars and trucks is my card.  Checked in and on our way to the childcare center.  Get them checked in and Colin spots a truck in my purse that he HAS TO HAVE!  I worry it will be gone and lost forever if he brings it with, but am willing to spend the $8 for a new one to get to my class before it is half over.  Both kids have their Bubbas which require extra name tags so they don't get lost and at this point I think I have already burned about 600 calories from all my running and schlepping of a 30 lb. 18 month old.  I manage to get into my class and on a bike by 9:10.  Late. Again.

Lucky for me I already got my warm up, right?  At 9:45 one of the ladies from the childcare center comes to get me because Colin has a dirty diaper (they don't change those) and I have to hop off my bike to go change it.  This happens about 85% of the time.  I know what you are thinking.  Didn't he just poop?  Yup.  He's what I call a "two a.m. pooper."  At least he's regular.  Anyway, I have determined that this process burns exactly 45 calories, including hand washing.  I make it back to the class in time for the last 5 minutes before cool down.  I keep cycling my life away to get my full workout in and feel everyone looking at me as they stretch like I am a nut case.  I wish I had a t-shirt that says, "Cut me some slack, I have a 2 kids under 4...we go nowhere fast."

The amount of effort it took us to get to my mom's for Thanksgiving before Christmas dinner (not a typo) was served required a flow chart,  a project manager and a foreman.  I will admit, I did what I usually do and try to squeeze in a workout before the onslaught of gravy.  I wouldn't be so concerned, but we do 2 Thanksgiving meals.  I sweat gravy and pumpkin pie on the car ride home. 

I get back from the gym and need to shower, get the kids showered and then pack the car and get to my mom's by noon.  Lunch/dinner is at 1:00.  Right now it is 10:30 a.m.  After basic hygiene matters were under control, we got everyone dressed and I even remembered to put deodorant on.  Nothing is worse than sweating gravy without remembering your Secret.

"Maddie, you have to go potty before we get in the car." I tell her.
"But I don't have to go, momma!" she replies.
"We have a gong drive and you need to go."
"I want to wear these necklaces," as she hands me two tangled necklaces she unearthed from her room.
I spend a good 8 minutes trying to untangle the mess while getting her to go potty. Finally she goes, I get at least one necklace free and convince her that she only needs one since the other one is still in knots.


11:20 a.m. and I still have to throw together a greenbean casserole.  I get it half made and pack it up.  Then, I have to pack a lunch bag with an ice pack for some Tortilla Encrusted Tilapia for Madelyn.  It is one of the few things she will eat on a regular basis and after 3 years of holidays where she eats French Silk pie for dinner, I have learned my lesson.  Bring the old standby.

Go through the dreaded pony tail, shoes, coat routine and we get the kids in the car. Then, we have to get Bubbas and blankets for both kids because they are going to have to nap at my moms. Bubbas and blankets, check.  Pack n' Play in the car, check.  Fruit salad, check.  Kira locked up, check.  Sippy cups, check. Diapers, check. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse in the minivan DVD player, check.  My purse, check. This is actually a short list compared to the days when I used to have to bring baby food, breast pump, bottles, etc. etc.

We finally get in the car and our on our way to my mom's.  It is now 11: 50 a.m. How the hell did that happen.

I get a call at 12:35 from my mom as we approaching her house and she passive aggressively asks me if I need to put anything in the oven when I get there.

"Yes." I say flatly.  "We are pulling up right now and I am sorry." 

She brushes over my apology half saying she understands because of the kids and half because I am me and some things never change.