Lucky Sucky

Middle C is on a roll, I need to take her to Vegas. If you live in Texas, you are very familiar with the "Buddy Bucks". They are the grocery stores idea of rewarding kids for good behavior in the store. If your kid is good, you can ask for buddy bucks and your kiddo can put it in the machine and "win" points. The points can be traded in for various crap made in China. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea and my kids love getting the sticker points. There is however, the slim possibility of being an instant winner.  The odds are slim unless you are Middle C ,your sister has a poopy diaper, and is screaming... that is apparently the lucky combo. Last week, I went to the store to grab four quick items.  Baby A was having no part in the quick trip.  She pooped in the 5 minutes it took me to grab my stuff and get in line.  She was being good for sitting in her own stink, and Middle C was on her best behavior.  I requested a buddy buck for her...she put the money in, and pushed the button.  I had already made it almost to the exit, when I heard the shrill scream of victory.  "I am a winner mommy!"  I whooped and hollered for her.  A screamed and attempted to head butt my chest in desperation.  C skipped to the line we had to stand in to get her prize.  The line was 7 people long waiting to pay electric bills, get money orders, and who knows what else.  A was losing it as each minute ticked by.  She yanked out her hair band, threw her socks and shoes, and then proceeded to attempt in take off her diaper.  Middle C was oblivious to my pain. She was skipping in a circle chanting, "I am a winner, I am a winner."  After 15 minutes in line, C pranced out of the store with her coloring book and lollypop.  I followed with crap on my shirt, snot in my hair, and a pissed off baby.   Today I went to the store again, A pooped (must be something about the grocery store that brings on bowel movements) started screaming, and lucky ducky C was an instant winner yet again. joy

Shiny Happy People Pooping Beads

Middle C likes to put things in her mouth. She is four, but still has some sort of oral fixation going on, my fault I'm sure. I am constantly telling her to not put things in her mouth. The other day we watched the Magic School Bus meets Digestion. It was all about what happens when you eat. Middle C, glances over at me and asks,"So what if I swallow a quarter?" I told her that it could hurt her delicate insides since it was so big, and she would have to go to the Doctor. After discussing the quarter, she continued to assault me with question after question of objects that she could potentially swallow. The following day she slinks into my bedroom and tells me that she is a scientist and she is "having a secret experiment". I kiss her on the forehead and mummer, "that is awesome that you want to be a scientist." I suppose that I should have probed for more information... That evening she excitedly waddles into the living room, with her princess panties around her ankles. "Check out my poop mommy, my experiment worked, I pooped out a bead, and it is still a shiny, sparkly, green. It did not even hurt, I am a real scientist now!"

Baby Daddy

I love that all three of my girls look different. We have a brunette, blond, and redhead. The other day, I had to take all three to the dentist. Yeah, good times. Middle C was in the chair giggling because she burped in the face of the dental hygienist. E was studying the pictures of decayed teeth and making gagging sounds, and baby A was squirming and head butting me in the hopes of getting put down. The hygienist is smiles and pipes up with, "Your girls all look so different, do they have the same father?" I'm sure the look on my face was priceless... Bless her sweet little rude heart.

Humility

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Last Sunday, I was so proud of getting all three girls off to church on time, hair done, matching outfits, feeling awesome. The sermon was on humility, about halfway through the sermon, my one year old vomits all over me. I humbly walk out of the church mid sermon covered in vomit, avoiding eye contact. Awesome, thanks for the lesson.

She said what?

I know that I have not posted in awhile. It has been a wild and crazy month and a half. E started Kinder, Baby A started walking, and Middle C is exploring her boundaries. Baby A has been once again honing in on her artistic talents by creating yet another Poo masterpiece. She is experimenting with corn and feces, very Avant-garde. I am thinking scholarship potential!
Yesterday was a day that made guzzling a whole bottle of wine seem pretty darn tempting. Everything was going wrong, hubby and I are arguing, Middle C is popping serious attitude, E is losing it over the fact the there is a eraser streak on her homework, and Baby A is getting 4 new teeth. ( I also have PMS) Why, oh why, did I then decide to go to the grocery store under these conditions...wine. Yes, I threw myself into the fire for a simple bottle of 4 dollar wine, and milk, and eggs, and toilet paper. The store was out of the "fun" car carts, you know those germ infected, grimy carts with the bum wheel that make going straight a near impossibility. The one that parents attempt to push around while their children a) attempt to chew on the steering wheel, or B) bolt out at the sight of candy. Baby A was screaming, and the girls were in the cart arguing who was "steering". I pull up next to a sweet 80 year old woman, who smiles at me with sympathy as I attempt to force baby A into a sitting position in the cart. Middle C jumps out of the car cart to help calm down A. She pats baby A on the bum and says, "Doesn't she have such a cute little bottom" The woman grins and says, "Well yes, yes she does." Then Middle C pipes up, "She has a really cute vagina too!"

Kotex and Kids

I try to avoid the grocery store when I have all three girls with me, but sometimes necessity trumps sanity. Necessity equals milk, mini pancakes, and tampons. I piled up all of the kiddos into the swagger wagon and off we went to my arch nemesis, HEB. I scored an awesome spot and the cart with a bench attached. Things were looking good. E and C were perched in the bench seat and baby A was strapped into the front seat. We were off, I was rounding the corner at impressive speed to locate the tampons and realized that since I had been to the store last, it was now under a complete remodel. I had no idea where anything was. I stumbled across the tampons where the bread use to be, and then wandered around attempting to find the pancakes. Since I was trying so hard to locate my items, I was not really paying attention to the girls. I stopped walking to peer down an aisle when a woman tapped me on the shoulder. "Excuse lady, you are shedding tampons." What the.... I looked behind me and there was no question where we had been. Tampons strewed hap hazard down the aisle. I turned to shoot daggers at the older girls, but stopped when I noticed baby A happily gnawing on a wrapped tampon while her chubby hand thrust into an almost empty box, routing around for another kotex to toss. Do I gather up all of the tampons and purchase the box, or do I gather them up shove the open box back on the shelf and get a box that had not been handled by baby fingers? I ended up roaming the store picking up the renegade tampons avoiding making eye-contact. I bought the opened box and after making it home counted the remaining items. Apparently there are about 5 tampons unaccounted for. So if you are at HEB this week and find a sealed tampon, it is mine, I already paid for it so you can keep it.

Bosom Buddies?

OK, I must admit I have not been a fan of Victoria's Secret since they discontinued my bra size and stopped sending out free pantie coupons. After taking to a friend of mine I was surprised to learn that my bra size is back in stock! VS finally realized that not all of us were going to get implants. I visited the store last week to see about this new amazing 2 cup bra. Sadly, it still took two associates to find my particular size,and that was after an associate measured my bust just to make sure I was right. I was offered a comfortable padded bra and the super +++ padded bra. OK, for 48.00, I am getting the best boob for my buck. I loved it and was feeling great, until I walked to the register to buy my "organic material" boob job. The adorable girl with a perky chest and skin tight white t-shirt flashed me a smile and chirped,"Did your friend like, come in here yesterday?" "Ummm..no I don't think so." I replied. "Oh, because a girl just about your age was in here and bought two of these 32 A bras. She said they were amazing, are you sure she wasn't your friend?". OK, thanks for saying my sad size out loud, so much for Victoria's SECRET! Apparently, those of us in the ittiy bitty committee are all BFFs?? My shopping experience was not helped by the fact that my four year old managed to almost strangle herself with a thong. As I was attempting to pull the leopard print pantie off her head she squealed, "Mommy you need to get one of these so you can play animal with me." I was temped to tell her where the thin black lace string that was now wrapped around her pony tail was suppose to be. One more thing, I do want to make sure that everyone knows that I do NOT discriminate based on chest size.

Painting with Pooh...I mean Poo

I am thrilled to announce that we have another artist in the family. Now two of my children, have chosen an organic medium to explore. Let me explain... It was a glorious day. My older children were out with daddy and baby A was asleep. I was making good headway on the three baskets of clean clothes that I had been ignoring for the past week. Sure enough, 3/4 of the way done I heard baby A babbling over the monitor. I figured that she was content, so I continued to fold. Baby A's babble turned to squeals of joy, I smiled as I folded the last pair to pet shop panties. I grabbed a basket of clothes, and trudged up the stairs. I pushed open A's door and my olfactories were accosted by a distinct odor. I sighed, as I quietly padded into her room. I wanted to see what she was so happy about...that's when I saw it. A soiled diaper lay mostly empty in the middle of her floor. Her beautiful pale pink gingham crib bumper was now streaked with a hideous shade bluish brown (thank you blueberries). I gasped as soon as I saw baby A's little head pop up. My sweet little redhead now resembled a brunette. Begrudgingly, I peered into the crib to examine the magnitude of the smelly mess. There it was, an amazing piece of artwork streaked across the wall. My little avant-garde artist stared at me quizzically while I gagged. This was not my first child to attempt to be Poo-casso. Sadly, I have considerable experience attempting to clean a textured wall that has been smeared with Doo Doo Brown. The irony of it is, is that the only stuffed toy that she chose NOT to artistically embellish was Pooh.

Whatever it is ….my sister did it

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Sisters...I never had one. I have a brother 10 years younger than me, so I am completely unprepared for the sassy sisterhood that I am witness to every day. My 5 year old E,has an adorable sprinkling of freckles on the bridge of her nose. My middle daughter is freckle free and I am well... splattered with them. Growing up I hated my freckles until someone told me that freckles were angel kisses. E is thrilled when she finds another tiny freckle on her nose. She sings about it, she draws pictures about it, and she makes sure C knows that she is chosen one, and C is not. The other day she was dressed up in her fairy dress singing,"The angels love me can't you see! They don't like C. They only love me!!!" This of course caused C to become hysterical about her lack of angel kisses. "The angels don't love me, they only love E." This week however brought with it some excitement. C streaked out of the shower giddy with joy. "See Mommy, angels do love me, I have my first kiss." "Awesome!", I said until I noticed her shaking her little fanny around. "Where is this new little freckle?" "It is on my bottom Mommy, angels love my bottom!!" she shrieked with joy. E stumbled out of the shower in search of all of the celebration. C began chanting, " Angles love my bottom, Angels love my bottom." E rolls her eyes in disgust, "You are so gross C". C starts to sob and then pipes up in her shrill little voice, "You are just mad because Angels don't like YOUR bottom because it is stinky!" Now both girls are crying and my little 11 month old crawls into the room and whacks her head on the chest of drawers, she joins in on the wail fest. I just hope C doesn't decide to show of her angel kiss at Sunday School.

By the way, following my epic fail at the car wash, it did in fact rain 2 inches that evening. Those of you in Texas that enjoyed the rain, your welcome.

Epic Fail Mommy Moment

In the past three weeks, I survived a 3,000 mile road trip and little C's tonsillectomy and recovery. Who knew that today, the summer solstice would bring with it an epic mommy fail moment. I was rocking it today. It was one of those days when things were getting done and the kids were cooperating. I was feeling great about my mommy skills. I even listened to the Vacation Bible School CD four times in a row, that in itself deserved a few gold stars. One thing I have learned about parenting is enjoy the moment, because it could all go from calm to insane in no time flat...hence my epic fail mommy moment. It was another blistering day of 100 degree heat. The meteorologists were, excited yipping about a 15 percent chance of rain. At some point in the morning, they mentioned that we should all wash our cars to bring on the rain. My 4 year old heard this and begged me to get a car wash after her post op Dr. appointment. Sweet, if that can be the bribe it is a win win as far as I am concerned. I filled up my car with gas and got the receipt with the code printed on it. I should have been suspicious when I realized that the code was 666. Baby A was happily babbling in the car and C was chomping at the bit waiting for the rainbow colored soap. We slowly drive the swagger wagon in. Savoring the moment when the under carriage is being washed. I remind C to make sure that her little pop out window is in fact, closed. She cheerfully yells, "Check!" Just as the car wash begins to really get going, baby A begins to scream, not a fan of car washes. Little C is giggling and singing, "At The Car Wash doobie doobie doo....MOMMY, my window is open I am getting wet!!!" I launch myself over the seats until I am at the back of the van and pop the window back into the locked position. C finds this whole thing hilarious and is laughing, baby A is screaming. Since I am in the back seat, I attempt to calm her down and give up when she hurtles a book at me. The little sign in the car wash now flashes CRYSTAL CLEAN RINSE the last cycle, so once again I scramble to get to the front seat. Due to the diaper bag in my way, I crash over the front seat arm rest bonking my head somehow on the door control button. It was like slow motion... I hear C scream, "The door Moooommmmmmyyyyyy." Next, I feel a fire hose force of water pummeling the inside of the car. Baby A is wailing. I fumble to find the button to close the door. Screw the dry cycle, I floor it out of the wash and pull into the parking lot. I'm sobbing, baby A is screaming, and C is laughing out loud. I get out and open the door. Baby is is soaked from head to foot. Her hair is wet and dripping down her face. The stack of diapers I had at her feet are now bloated with water. I unbuckled the poor water logged baby and attempted to calm her. We are all fine, however I am sure some how down the way baby A may be in therapy for suffering from a debilitating car wash phobia. Now it had better rain damn it!

Wicked Queen Foiled Again

Here I sit amongst yet another pile of laundry, my 10 month old grins at me as she tumbles over my leg with a dirty sock in her mouth. I think to myself, perhaps I can teach her to fetch the pairs of boxers that seem to pile up next to the shower. In my attempt to make my life easier I have decided to distribute chores and demand help from my little minions. Little C's idea of cleaning her room is shoving everything under her bed, when I reprimanded her for it she placed her little arms on her hips and stated, "I am a princess and you are the Wicked Queen". My response was a bit juvenile, "If I see anything left on this floor I will cast a spell on you." I popped back in her room a few minutes later, the floor was spotless but every piece of furniture had something picked up from the floor on it. There she sat, the little princess with a smug little grin on her four year old face. Foiled again, apparently the Wicked Queen needs to work on the delivery of her demands. I so need a drink out of my 30 proof caldron.

In other random news...I have embraced the swim dress, no maintenance needed. I really can't deal with another chore.

Kibble in your Bits

I think the problem with three kiddos is that I never seem to be GREAT at anything any more. I look back to when I was a mother of one. The floor was void of any potential choking hazards, the house was clean, laundry was done. My little one was always in the cutest outfit, her face was clean, God I was good. Fast forward five years. My sweet baby A, number three is crawling around in her diaper, her hair is dangling in her eyes, her little nose is dripping as I am attempting to sort the pile of laundry on the floor. I hear her banging around in the kitchen, I sort a few more clothes before I check on her. There she is, happily munching on dog food. I calmly extract the kibble from her mouth, sigh and relocate her to the pile of laundry. I glance over at her and she is munching away on kibble again. I once again extract the food and attempt to get back to my chore. Now I notice a kibble trail and stop what I am doing to observe. Baby A has managed to stash away fist fulls of kibble in her diaper. She roots around and her chubby little hand comes out with a morsel or two. She grins at me. I pick her up and attempt to find the squirreled away food. She has kibble in her bits! Not only has she stored the food in the front of her diaper, the little pieces are also tucked away between her little bottom cheeks. I calmly collect the food and toss it into the dog bowl. Yet another proud moment in the motherhood.

The case of the phantom poo

I woke up today and noticed an all too common offensive odor wafting in from an unknown location, Poo. I first checked the downstairs changing table. I have at times, been in a rush and forgotten to throw a diaper away, because I am so awesome. I got on my hands and knees and sniffed around the room, but I couldn't find it. Was a renegade dirty diaper playing with me? After a good five minutes of sniffing, I was forced to give up. Really? I don't have time to search for the phantom poo. I took the older girls to school and walked back into my bedroom. BAMM!! The phantom had returned with a vengeance. My hubby who works from home, was hold up in his office on a conference call, couldn't be him. I checked the bottoms of my shoes, nope. Baby A was sleeping in her room upstairs. Tired of sniffing, I lit a few candles and sat down to check my email. Sniff, sniff...good Lord,there it was again! I finally put two and two together, it must be the dog. I think I just threw up in my mouth, our dog has some truly heinous anus! I will never buy generic dog food again. The case of the phantom poo solved.

Potty Play by Play

Yesterday we went to a local taco eatery to celebrate E's last soccer game. For those of you that don't know me well, I suffer from IBS (I Be Sh*%ing). Well my IBS chose to rear its ugly head, no pun intended. I considered waiting to go home to feel better, but my gut had other plans. I quickly stood up to rush to the facilities. Little C asked where I was going, so I told her. Needless to say, she had to go potty too. I grabbed her little hand and we scurried to the bathroom. Luckily, it was a clean two stall bathroom. I encouraged C to go to the next stall so I could have some privacy. I was praying that no one else came into the bathroom. Then I heard the door open and two women walked in. Just then C announced, "Hey, mommy I am going poo poo just like you. We can be stinky together." I kept my mouth shut and I should know better than to ignore C, she raised her little voice to make sure that I heard her,"Mommy are you wiping now? Are you still poo pooing? Want to have a wipe race? Mommy? Mommy? Mooooommmmmmy? You can't talk while you are pooping? Can you hear me?"

There is nothing like the just stunk up the place walk to shame. Thanks to C I couldn't blame it on her. The women breathing through their mouths waiting for the stalls refused to make eye contact when I attempted to smile at them. My face was burning with embarrassment as I helped my daughter wash her hands. C looked up and said, "Mommy your

There is nothing like the just stunk up the place walk to shame. Thanks to C I couldn't blame it on her. The women breathing through their mouths waiting for the stalls refused to make eye contact when I attempted to smile at them. My face was burning with embarrassment as I helped my daughter wash her hands. C looked up and said, "Mommy your face is red, do you need to squeeze some more?"

Sassy But Classy

Little C is at it again. The other day during "quiet time", she was being really quiet in her room. Mom's, we all know really quite is code for TROUBLE. I walked into her room to discover a pair of scissors, a roll of tape, and a "new skirt". "Claire!", I screamed "What did you do??" "Um...I made a skirt, don't I look trendy?" she squealed thoroughly pleased with her creativity. After further investigation, I noticed that she decided to become a fashion designer and cut up one of her shirts and used tape to fashion it into a skirt. Did little C chose a cheap Target shirt, or a hand me down Tee? Nope, only the best for my little designer..God forbid her creation not be quality. She chose to cut up a non sale Gymboree item. You know what I am taking about, one of the cute little tops that you splurge and gag when you hear the price. Yet, you justify it because it can match about three other items that you already have. I was ticked, but I had to give her credit for her creativity, she did do a fairly good job. Perhaps a career as a clothing designer is in her future, a hair stylist is not. Yes, she snipped away at her hair too...

Panty Check!

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I am back! I am finally to the point that I can blog. I have missed my time to think back over the day and laugh. I am now a mommy of three little girls, 5, 4, and 10 months. My now middle child continues to push me to my limits. Let me preface this by saying C never wears panties at night. She claims that she needs to "breath". Being the awesome mother that I am, I had not noticed that she had been going commando during the day until it was called to my attention by one of her teachers. C was sitting quietly wearing her favorite lime green dress listening to a Bible story. C is 4 year and has not quite mastered lady like sitting. Needless to say, the poor teacher reading the story was brought back to the days of Adam and Eve when she glanced over at my daughter. C unaware of the social no no reserved for only Lindsay Lohan was "breathing" (her words not mine). Not quite sure what to do after the incident the teacher convinced her to put on a pull up to go to the playground. She told C that she really didn't want wood chips in there. We now have a panty check before leaving the house and C understands that she only needs to breath at night.