Monday, September 30, 2013

Halloween Woes...

Chris has been asking to do Star Wars themed costumes for three years now.  Cash would be Yoda, Chris would be Hans Solo, and I would be...

Princess Leia.


While I've been able to fight off his idea for quite some time, my brother is having a party this year and has asked if Declan can come as...



Off I go to Amazon.

Hans Solo costume.  Check.

Princess Leia costume.  Check. (And no, not the Princess Leia Jabba the Hut Slave one you pervs.  I just had a kid.  I'd look like Jabba the Hut who ATE Princess Leia)

Ewok costume.  Check.

Yoda.  Check.

Check Out.  Click.

Chris leans over my shoulder. "Where's my gun?  My costume comes with a gun right?"

"The gun is $13.  Can't you go without it?" I ask.

Chris looks at me like I just asked Michael Knight to show up without Kitt.

Gun.  Check.

"And my holster.  Where is the holster?" he asks.

"Do you really need the holster?!?!"

"No.  I could hold my beer in one hand and the gun in the other buuuuut, that limits the amount of help I can be with the kids if both my hands are full."

Holster.  Check.

"Honey, those stupid accessories pushed your stupid costume to $60.  That's outrageous!  We can't afford that much!"  I griped.

"Sweet!  Looks like we have an excuse to be the Star Wars family for the next THREE years!!" he said with a grin.

I hate Star Wars.  I really HATE Star Wars.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

And the Bad Mom Award Goes To....

Beach camping.

Long days spent on the sand, basking in the sunshine.

My favorite time of year.

Or it was...

until I had a two year old who decided 6AM was an acceptable time to wake up.


Turns out, my internal dialog has a potty mouth when tired.

"Bite mommy!  Candy?" he begged.

He has my number.  My tired, tired number.

I throw a handful of chewy Sprees at him, turn on Curious George on the iPad, and go back to bed.

He silently chews his candy, huge grin on his face, and watches his movie.

His future? Diabetic with bad teeth.  Mine?  Sleep.  Glorious sleep.

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

One Kid? Oh yeah!!

My mother in law offered to watch Cash while I finished packing and running errands for our beach camping trip last week.  Shopping with one child somehow feels infinitely easier than shopping with both my boys.  I'm sure shopping with two kids would feel like a vacation if I had three kids and three kids easier if I had four kids...

Hold on, I had to quit laughing at the thought of me having four kids.  I already have a limited grasp on my sanity.  Four kids would seal my fate in a sanitarium.

I forgot how easy errands could be.  Shopping without a two year old is positively delightful.  I had to hold myself back from dancing like Julie Andrews while singing the theme song from The Sound of Music.

It's not that I don't love him, I just don't love shopping with a 34" tall kleptomaniac.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Breaking and Entering...

Most days, when I empty our trash into the large bins in the front yard, I let Cash accompany me.  I was packing for our camping trip and hadn't gotten around to dress him (or me) and he was shoeless so I decided to leave him inside.  I closed the security screen door behind me saying, "Stay there bub.  Mommy's going to be right back."  I could hear him angrily pounding on the metal door behind me as I tossed the bag into the large bin.

I hurried across my yard, praying none of the neighbors would see my braless nightdress and flip flop combo.  Safely under the porch, I grasped the door handle on the security door and twisted..  and tried to twist again.

Cash had successfully locked me out.

At first, I leaned in, unable to see through the security door, and whispered through the tiny holes, "Hey bub, can you unlock the door for mamma?"

Silence.  Was he even there?

"Buddy?  Mamma needs back inside" I said a little louder.

"Hi Mommy!" I hear him say loudly on the other side of the door.

"Sweetie?  Can you try to twist the lock for mommy?  Pretty please?" I beg.

I hear his chubby fingers play with the door handle "I done no mommy" (I don't know mommy).  He makes another attempt to twist the door and I hear his feet start to walk away.

"Cash buddy, you need to come back right now bub" I try.

His feet pause, then I hear his foot steps as he starts to walk away.

Our street is a hub for morning walkers.  Not a high traffic area, wide sidewalks, safe.  I see a man approaching a little ways away, "CASH IF YOU DON'T GET BACK HERE TO OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW, I WILL END YOU!!!" I say as quietly and somehow as loudly as possible through gritted teeth into the metal door and then look to the man with his dog to smile and wave, careful to not expose my bralessness.  

I hear Cash's feet come back to the door and then hear the slow creak of our heavy wood front door.


Door slams.


Negotiations are over.

I never leave doors or windows open but there happened (thankfully) to be a wonderful breeze that morning and I remembered I had opened the kitchen window when I woke up.

Now all that was left was to scale a 6 foot fence... in a dress... in flip flops... with no bra... and try not to get caught by the neighbors.

I drag the chair from our front porch over to the fence and attempt to lift myself up 'push up' style like in all the movies.

Apparently I need to do A LOT more push ups.

I throw my leg awkwardly over the fence and shimmy on top of the wall.  Resting for a moment to catch my breath on the ledge, the dogs run over and start barking viciously, like I'm not the one who FEEDS them EVERY DAY!!

I half jump (mostly fall) off the top of the fence onto the concrete dog pad and ungracefully climb into the kitchen window (because I've been SO graceful up to that point).  I angrily march into the living room where Cash is smiling, watching Curious George, eating licorice.

I think he planned the whole thing.

Not sure I'm going to survive the terrible two's with this one...

Monday, September 9, 2013

I'm a 17 Year Old Boy...

Rumor has it, you eat a lot while pregnant.

Yeah.  You do.  But not nearly as much as you do while nursing.  Not only am I nursing, I'm pumping an extra feeding or two a day for my at work stockpile.

It doesn't help that Declan was the size of a 4 month old at 2 months... and continues to grow at a rapid pace.

I eat like a 17 year old boy during hell week.

They say not to grocery shop while hungry.  My 'not hungry' window is approximately 12 1/2 minutes.  Grocery shopping has been quite expensive lately.

I can hardly make it through cooking dinner without jabbing a fork into food still cooking.  I'm thankful I haven't been visited by the salmonella fairy because, yes, there has been a time or two that I've taken a forkful of pink chicken.

9 more months?!?  Looks like I need to adjust our grocery budget... and avoid Costco indefinitely.