October 31st.

Happy Halloween, bitches!

Halloween, circa 2006. Deviled Egg vs. Stuffed Wolf.

Dear Chicco ... You Suck.

So ... I'm in the market for a new stroller system. 

The handle snapped off mine today, randomly, in the middle of a major excursion at an outdoor mall. It may or may not have been caused by the overly-large, overly-heavy diaper bag that has been hanging from it since 2008.

Luckily, I was with my friend Anna who also suffers from the same Curse of Weird Things that has seemed to plague me since birth. She thought nothing of it. 

In fact, she loaded her daughter (pictured here) into my dilapidated stroller and rolled her ... how I don't know ... so that I wouldn't have to. 

With a baby strapped to my chest, completing simple tasks is a challenge. Maneuvering a handle-less stroller would not have worked for me.

I can barely maneuver a fully operable stroller, on a good day. I think we can all agree it's best to know your limits. 

Weekly Update.

The other day, I said I was going to take up couponing. I managed to purchase a binder and a hole puncher thingy ... and that's as far as I've gotten.

Here is what I HAVE managed to do:

1. Spend $41 at Bath & Body Works online. I had a coupon code ... so ... I did save money. And our house NEEDS to smell like "Leaves" (the wallflower scent) as soon as possible. Because I am overly paranoid that it still smells like poop after what went down the other night.

2. I took both of my kids to the mall, by myself. I do not own a double stroller, although I cursed myself several times during that outing for not having one. I stuck TWO in my Ergo carrier and ONE was in the stroller. We lunched in the Food Court. People stared. I stared back.

3. I taught my three-year-old the words to Adele's Someone Like You. Not really on purpose, more like I was sick of listening to screaming so I turned it up and sang it over and over again until I realized someone was singing with me ... that would be ONE.

4. I drove across town to the cheapest drycleaning service I know of and dropped off ONE's poop-infested comforter. It wouldn't fit in my washing machine. It cost me $2o. I don't plan to pick it up until ONE starts begging for it back. Right now he has sheets over his windows where the curtains used to be. I don't plan on putting those back for awhile, either. I didn't feel like ironing the damn things anyway.

5. I stopped caring about weight loss and exercise. All I cared about this week was getting through the day. Next week might be better. I am so stressed out I can't eat anyway. I am now 16 pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight. I wish I could bottle and market the diet I'm currently on. I would then have enough money to pay for Mother's Day Out. Or a membership to a gym. ONE THAT HAS CHILDCARE.

Up Shit Creek.

It's dangerous to assume the following:

1. Your kid "knows better."

2. Your kid "would never do" X, Y, or Z.

3. Your kid is asleep.

Yesterday was a very nice, lazy day. None of us got out of our p.j.'s. No one got spanked or even went to time out. We all just cuddled in the living room in front of the TV. I NEVER do that, but I didn't feel great so I decided to take it easy.

At bedtime, all hell broke loose. TWO started crying. I tried everything. Finally, I stuck him in his swing, kissed his little head and told him I was sorry, but I had to put his big brother to bed now, and I would be back. He responded by screaming loudly.

I took ONE upstairs and read The Cat In The Hat Comes Back before tucking him in. I'd like to state here that I used to love Dr. Seuss, before I had children and actually had to read his works aloud. Now I loathe him. Loathe. 

During the whole bedtime routine, TWO screamed downstairs. I ignored it. I took my time with ONE. I hugged and kissed and listened to him talk about his day. When it was time for me to go, he fell apart. This happens every night, so I steeled my will, and left him to scream in his doorway. Now I had two screaming children in my house. Awesome.

It took me forever to calm down TWO, who had worked himself into hysterics. After awhile, the house quieted. TWO was asleep in my arms, and I assumed ONE was asleep as well. So I did what made sense. I turned on Project Runway.  

An hour later, my worst germ-related nightmare came true. I heard a crash and went up to check on ONE. I found him naked except for his diaper and he was absolutely caked with poo. He had used his own poop to paint the carpet, the double-lined Pottery Barn curtains, the chair that my dad covered with custom fabric, and his lamp. When he heard me coming, he jumped into his bed, so obviously it was all over THAT as well.

I have never in my life been more grossed out or outright FURIOUS. I had to bathe him immediately, and of course at this exact moment TWO woke up because it was time for him to eat. I felt like my head might explode. I felt like just walking out the door and sitting in the driveway until Husband came home. It was 8:30 p.m. and it had been a long ass day. Now I had one kid crying from hunger and another kid crying because he was sitting in "poo water."

I am a praying person, but since I had TWO I have begun to pray almost constantly. Having another child has been wonderful for my relationship with God. I don't discuss it much here, but without the help of the Good Lord I would be up shit creek.

No pun intended. 

Today it is building my character to be nice to my older son, who I am still mad at. I will be doing laundry for a very long time. I have to iron every one of those f#cking curtains after I wash and hang dry them. I am pissed. But ... but. I have to keep reminding myself that this life we are living isn't easy. No one said it would be. One day I'll look back on this and laugh ...

Right??

 

Open Letter.

Dear Husband,

Today I found a screen open on our computer, which showcased this t-shirt. 

I accept that I am a League of Legends widow. However, I have to draw the line at THIS. 

This is bad.

If you choose to purchase and wear this item (shudder), I will still love you, but I won't be seen in public with you. Also ... we may have to seek counseling. 

I never thought I would say this, but I would actually prefer that you wear this shirt instead. Something about it is strangely virile.

Thank you/Love you,
Harmony

I'm Just Saying.

All I have to say is, if me, ONE, and TWO make it through the next year without one of us getting seriously injured, I will consider myself a mothering success.

I didn't mention Husband, because if he is seriously injured it will have been my doing. Probably because I punched him in the face in the middle of the night. Or maybe in the kitchen.

Couponing.

Ugh ... money. We don't have much of it. It's such a downer.

I have no choice but to learn to coupon and I can't even tell you how overwhelming it is. I watched the show Extreme Couponing to try to get myself excited about it, but I came away from it thinking that those bitches are a special brand of crazy. A brand I don't care to become.

I hate, hate, HATE:

1. Math.

2. Things that require too much thought.

3. Standing behind someone in line who has coupons. 

I used to work at a grocery store, and I hated couponers. They would happily hold up the line over $0.35. Or they would stand in line at Customer Service forever waiting to get a rain check for an item we were out of. It just didn't make sense to me. Time is money. It seemed like they were wasting a lot of their time. And mine.

I guess I shouldn't have ridiculed couponers for all these years, since I am grudgingly going to become one. It's out of necessity, not because I have a sick need for a "stockpile," let's be clear about that.

Now I have a stack of unclipped coupons sitting on my kitchen table ... and they are mocking me. I am mocking myself. I might as well go ahead and use all the money I save on my next shopping trip to buy a pair of mom jeans and a purple hair scrunchy.

(source)

My new goal: to make couponing cool not entirely dorky.

Trick or Treat.

ONE just found a bunch of feminine products and mistook them for treats. As in candy. 

He threw a FIT because I took them away before he could open, and presumably eat, all of them. Never in my wildest dreams would it have occurred to me that while being at home with my boys, I would have the following conversation:

Me: Give me those, ONE. Those aren't for you.

ONE: No! They're MINE. MY TREATS.

Me: No ... they aren't treats. And they aren't yours.

ONE: (throws a fit)

Me: Here, let me show you. See? Open it up. It's not candy.

ONE: What is it?

Me: A tampon. 

ONE: What it do? 

Me: I'll explain it to you when you're older.

After I opened it to prove it wasn't edible, I figured nothing was wrong with letting him have it. As I write this, he is wearing the cardboard part of said tampon as a mustache. So to the people who ask me, "aren't you bored being at home all day?" THIS IS WHY THE ANSWER IS NO.

What Was I Thinking.

Against my better judgment, I bought ONE a pair of kiddie scissors. Because there aren't enough hazards in my house. And because I wanted to have yet another reason to worry about leaving him in a room by himself.

While I wrote this, he tried to sneak them upstairs to his room not just once ... but twice.

I'll let you know how this turns out.

Pumpkin Pecan Cheesecake.

Southern Living magazine

Hello, my delicious friend.

I'll be making you for Thanksgiving ... provided I'm able to bake in peace by then.

Otherwise, I'll be forced to bake you in the middle of the night while my family sleeps. Who knows what I might jack up if it comes to that.

I've never made cheesecake before. Most certainly, attempting to do so on very little sleep, in a fragile emotional state, makes the most sense.

Happy Friday!

My name is TWO. I can't stop smiling.

I shat on my mommy this morning. It was epic.

An Honest Exchange.

I find that I can get more done in 15 minutes in my car than I can all day inside my house. I can pay bills, make phone calls, write out lists, organize coupons (HATE), and most importantly, primp in natural sunlight.

I sat in a parking lot this morning with my children in the backseat waiting for me to finish a bad job of plucking my eyebrows. ONE asked me when we were going to get out.

Me: We'll get out as soon as I get myself together.

ONE: Oh.

ONE: (five seconds later) Are you together yet?

Me: No. 

ONE: Mommy? 

Me: Yes?

ONE: How do I look?

Me: You look fine.

(silence)

Me: How do I look?

ONE: Ummm ... not so great. 

 

Remember when I said TWO's smiles come and go so fast I can't catch them?

Negative Nancy.

This week, Husband and I had a series of arguments. Of course, I felt like he was wrong and I was right ... until he told me he felt like I had been acting like a "Negative Nancy." Burn.

Apparently, instead of telling him all of the cute and fun things I experienced in a day, I ranted about how effing hard it was. This made me pause. I don't consider myself to be a negative person at all. In fact, I pride myself on my inner strength and ability to handle difficulty. The problem is, Husband is one of the people who gets to hear me whine about it in person ... daily. The rest of you get to read about it.

If I were Husband, out working hard all day, I wouldn't want to come home to THAT. What he said made me mad at first, and then it got me in check. I spent all of yesterday getting my shit together.

I read (in a book written by Dr. Laura -- she may be crazy, but I like her work, and I find her encouraging) that as women, it is our responsibility to "shield our families" from our issues. They don't need to know about our every insecurity, pain, struggle, and problem. That is why we have been blessed with mothers and girlfriends who will listen to us vent and offer advice. 

This struck a chord with me. I realized I can't vent to Husband without him feeling like he needs to fix it. Unfortunately, he can't fix the stresses I am under at the moment. He can offer encouragement and that's about it. Luckily for me, I have a network of girlfriends who are in similar places in life and they have been an invaluable source of advice and support.

Today, I am thankful for those women. I am also thankful for my Husband, who finally decided to tell me what he felt about something instead of just staring blankly at me.

Here is a quote sent to me from one of my friends. I just might post it in every room of my house. It's so easy to lose sight of what really matters when I haven't been allowed to poop in peace for several days in a row.

 

Motherhood.

Life is hard. 

I am in the midst of one of those days weeks months where I feel certain that every member of my family is purposefully trying to piss me off. Or at the very least, drive me insane.

I thought about taking this opportunity to vent about Husband and ONE and yes, even TWO (he has colic, you recall). They are all being difficult in their own special way. I was gearing up to pound out a post about my problems.

But before I could get to that, TWO started to cry. I was sitting in his room, rocking him in the quiet and begging him to sleep, when he suddenly stopped screaming and smiled at me. He has a big, dimpled grin that just melts my heart. I'd post a picture, but it's so fleeting when it happens that I never have time to get the camera.

It was in that moment, when his big eyes were looking at me and his face dimpled, I realized that all of my problems can be dealt with. This is the part of motherhood that makes me a better person. 

Every day, I think to myself, I can't possibly go through another day like this. But then I do. I have no choice. You can't throw in the towel on motherhood. You press on, minute by painful minute, until it gets better.  Sometimes, an infuriating moment is immediately followed by a beautiful moment. I am here 24/7 to soak all of them up, and hopefully, by some miracle, I will survive it and I will be better because of the lessons I have learned.

Now, if you'll excuse me ... both of my children are crying. Simultaneously. 

Boo.

I love my little dragon.

I felt guilty that I took exactly zero pictures with TWO, but he was asleep in the stroller the whole time and there was no way I was going to mess with that.

Hankering for some exceptional people-watching? I suggest you head on over to Boo At The Zoo. I was impressed, mostly because of the number of adults who made us question -- are they, or aren't they in costume? HMMMMM.

Saturday.

Today, I am envious of women whose husbands work normal schedules.

Freaky Friday.

Just went through some pictures on my Facebook. Realized there are some seriously unattractive ones. 

I call this one "I Love Cake."

(In my defense, I was pregnant here.)

This Week.

If I am going to blog, does that mean I have to invest in a fancy camera? Because I definitely take all of my pictures with my cell phone. And I am fine with that ... until I go to other blogs and see all the pretty pictures there. 

That prompts feelings of inadequacy that I do not enjoy. But I don't have the money to spend on a fancy camera. And if Husband secretly saved up a stash of money (this likely will never happen) to buy me something with, I would NOT want a camera. I'd want clothes and undergarments that actually fit me correctly, because let me tell you, that is something I do not have.

This week, the following took place: I took TWO to the chiropractor. I had a horrible fight with Husband and I called him a sucklord. Not to his face. 

I cooked dinner for the first time in months. I think I expected everyone to be more excited than they were. Then I realized that must be why people always say that motherhood is a thankless job. Because this week, I have also managed to stay on top of the laundry and put it all away by myself -- all whilst balancing colic and three-year-old brattyness and general havoc. No one said thank you for that either. So I thanked myself.

No, there isn't whiskey in my coffee cup. 

But if there was ... would that be so wrong?

Also, I find myself wondering if I will look back on these chronicles of TWO's early life and wonder why I thought it was appropriate to post pictures of myself on the internet, looking a hot mess. I likely won't remember doing it. 

I have a feeling that I won't remember this phase of my life at ALL.  It will just be a blur. Well ... except for this blog. 

Which is proof of what really went down.

Leggies.

Disclaimer: here is yet another boring mommy post. I know ... I know.

I found it. The answer to my problem. "Leggies" in combination with the swing. This product line called The Woombie has been a Godsend. I feel like I am going to break us just trying to get the colic under control.

I guess I'd rather be poor than crazy.

Yesterday, the mailman brought me the "leggies" I ordered in my latest purchase of desperation. They offer the benefit of being swaddled, but the legs are cut out so we can strap him into the swing, the car, etc. $26 was a small price to pay for hope. I HOPED IT WOULD WORK. And it did! This marks the first evening in recent history where there wasn't constant crying.

The downside: TWO didn't want to go to bed until midnight, apparently from napping so well in his new Hannibal Lecter outfit. Also, he doesn't seem to enjoy the new hypoallergenic formula I put him on. Okay, I'll be honest. He hates it. He EATS it, slowly, with a look of disgust on his face.

Well, I'm sorry TWO, but Mommy is losing her mind. So you're going to have to get used to eating that shit that cost me an arm and a leg. 

And I mean that in the nicest possible way.

Yep.

Last night I was in my bathroom, pouring sterilized water into a bottle of powdered formula when I suddenly dropped the bottle. It had no lid on it yet. 

It slammed onto the counter, and water and unmixed formula powder shot out of it like a volcano, soaking my hair ... my face... my bathroom ceiling ... walls ... mirror ... you understand.

There is nothing sexier than rocking crunchy, soy formula hair. I'm sure Husband loved it.

Just SLEEP. Please.

They say not to, but I put TWO on his tummy to sleep. Why? Because I am desperate. That's why.

 

Sort of like how I have thrown most of my parenting standards out the window for the time being.

 

Chiropractor, Don't Fail Me.

Fact: I'm taking TWO to the chiropractor on Wednesday. For an adjustment. Apparently colic is sometimes curable by such ... and I am desperate. 

The crying was, at one point, all day long. Now, it's just 4-5 hours per day. I feel like I might be balding. ONE has taken to chewing on his shirts, grinding his teeth at night, and has developed a fear of the dark. I know it's stress. I mean, hearing a baby cry for that many hours per day is extremely taxing. 

I will not ask my doctor for medication. 

I will not ask my doctor for medication. 

I will not ask my doctor for medication.

Anniversary.

Today is our 6th wedding anniversary.

I nearly forgot about it. 

Some very sweet friends came over and watched ONE and TWO for a few hours so we could go to dinner.

Dinner without children.

We pretty much ran out the door.

 

The Richard of Oz.

Oh ... my.

Yesterday, I got a much-needed, much-deserved, probably-overdue break from being a mommy. I got to be a normal girl again, just for a few hours. It was divine.

My (super fun, super cute, super generous -- love her!) aunt and I went to Richard Joseph Salon yesterday and It. Was. Awesome. 

This particular salon is in a shoo-shoo part of town ... where the other half lives ... and consistently gets hailed as the best salon in Birmingham. And rightly so. I haven't gotten VIP treatment from anyone in a very long time. There was food and drink. They carried my purse for me. I got a complimentary hand massage. They even cleaned my wedding rings for me while I got shampooed.

I mean REALLY.

Richard himself cut my hair. He reminds me of The Wizard of Oz. I think it was his perfectly coiffed appearance. Or maybe it was the flourish with which he cut my hair. At the end, he cut the last snip and kind of threw the pieces into the air like confetti. I was fascinated. I also found myself wondering if I should adapt the confetti throw. Surely, I can work it into my normal life. I shall look into that.

I returned to my children feeling much more equipped to deal with their foolishness. I also made up my mind that I have no choice but to get creative and utilize all of the resources available to me, because I AM DYING HERE. I have researched MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers). I need a support group.

My grandmother lives nearby and offered to watch TWO so I can do things like go to the grocery store without taking both of them with me. I did that on Friday and I don't ever plan to put myself through that ridiculousness again, if I can help it. No amount of milk or eggs is worth feeling like I'm having a nervous breakdown.

Not that anyone involved except my aunt will read this, but I'd like to extend a big thank you to everyone who helped me relax yesterday. Especially the hand massage lady. 

My Kids Are Trying To Kill Me.

I think the word "smug" perfectly describes my former, one-child self. So I plan to continue using it.

I never understood women who allowed themselves to go without showering or basic hygiene because they were too busy with their children. I never got why some moms looked like train wrecks all the time. Did they just not care anymore? Is that what happens once you become mommyfied? It seemed to me a horrible mystery that I didn't care to solve. It was actually one of my very worst fears after having ONE that I would become permanently wrecked and incapable of doing simple tasks like shaving my armpits. 

As it turned out, I did manage to uphold a low standard of decency ... but only because I had one kid. I showered and primped while he slept. I SLEPT when he slept. It wasn't that bad, really. I didn't see what all the fuss was about. I stupidly assumed I could handle a second child without too much of a problem and here I am now, with two kids, drowning.

On a related note, I secured birth control yesterday. But I'm not sure if "99% effective" is quite effective enough for my liking. Quite frankly, the mere thought of the possibility of having another child at this point HORRIFIES me. Husband just may be out of luck.

You may be wondering how it is that I find the time to blog about how I never have time to do a damn thing. You see, writing about how my kids may be conspiring to kill me makes me feel much more sane. So I am happy to let one of them scream furiously for a few minutes while I do this. It's either that, or someone gets locked outside.

Goodness Gracious.

Getting out of the house is the only reason why I haven't thrown in the towel yet on this mom thing.

Here you can see TWO sleeping peacefully while ONE screams crazy talk at me. Had we been indoors ... well ... it would have sucked.

Verdict: Awesome.

I love my Ergo.

That is all.

Boring Mommy Stuff.

Yesterday, I sat in a park holding TWO and watching ONE play in the sandbox and wondered to myself if I am going to become one of those women who only talk about their kids.

As beautiful and wonderful as they are, I hope that is not what I am headed toward. Really. I have so many other things to discuss. Pretty much every time I go in public something happens that makes me think to myself, this needs to be on the internet. Like yesterday, while at said park, a stranger mom confessed to me that she had suffered a panic attack just the day before. She didn't even buy me dinner first. She just jumped right in.

Although ... and here I am going to do it again, talk about boring mommy stuff ... my Ergo carrier was delivered yesterday, and the level of excitement I felt when I took it out of the box was a defining moment. I was more excited to get that package than I was to receive my last order from Sephora. And that is saying a LOT.

I can't wait for TWO to wake up so I can put him in our new fancy carrier, and he can scream, and I can hate myself for spending so much money on something I hoped would make my life easier. I will keep you all posted. I know you are on the edge of your seats.

Twilight.

I just ordered tickets to the Early Access Breaking Dawn Midnight Premiere on November 18.

That's right.

Me and my friend Anna (thankfully, she loves Twilight as much as I do and WEARESOEXCITED) are going to hang out with a bunch of other moms in our own private movie theater, have cocktails, and wait for 12:01 a.m. to strike so we can see Breaking Dawn before the rest of the town.

Hopefully, no hardcore breast feeders, if in attendance, will recognize and berate me in public. Give me a break, people. Does natural birth not count for ANYTHING?

Romance.

I love Husband.

He can be SO infuriating. He has no sense of urgency. He's a slob. He is extremely tall and takes up a lot of space when he sleeps. But ... I love him. So much. Just like he loves me despite all of my aggravating qualities. 

Ever since we started having kids, our relationship has changed. It scared me to face this fact, having read many articles about marriages that fizzle out once children enter the picture. I was terrified that we would no longer have fun, or like each other, or have time for anything other than bill-paying and child-feeding. Because, frankly, we were pretty awesome before we had kids. And no one wants to be lame.

Things change, and thankfully, we adapted. Our definition of romance has morphed into something I would have laughed at several years ago. I have learned to recognize that while he might not bring home flowers, he does take the time to kiss me when he walks in the door. He takes the baby so I can have a break. He shows me he loves me in unconventional ways ... which isn't so different from the way things started out.

One day, the kids will be gone and it will just be us again. I hope that the efforts of today pay off and we will still find each other interesting.

Revelations.

Husband took over baby duty last night so I could sleep (he offered! I didn't even have to ask -- major points), and then when my family woke me up this morning I was a complete bitch. So did the extra sleep do any good? 

I think it only gave me extra energy to be rude.

Currently, I'm drinking my first batch of coffee and working on my attitude. I think I just need some time to myself without anyone talking to me through a locked door. Husband seems to understand that about me -- my need for autonomy. I am a very independent person. It's wearing to have little people clinging to me all day, even though I love them. He works long hours. I think he realizes I have taken on quite a task here. Hopefully, I can find balance to my new life so that I don't continue to behave irrationally.

But ... there is good news. I am down 28 pounds! I have a LOT more to go before I'm at my "goal" weight, but it's an excellent start considering I am not dieting or exercising. I am simply caring for two small children which is a diet and exercise plan in itself.  

Too bad I gained twice the recommended amount during my pregnancy, otherwise I'd be done with the pregnancy weight and could move on to other things. Like working on my six-pack. 

Look out, Fergie.

(source)