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!

From

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.