Go suck an egg Monday-I hate you

 I feel like crap on a stick today.  I skipped my dance class this morning because I am coughing up a lung and got no sleep.  Instead of coming home after dropping off Middle C at Preschool, I thought I would run to Big Lots and buy two lawn chairs that I saw were on sale.   Baby A was not in a good mood, she was having some really bad gas.  I plopped her into the cart, buckled her in and started hunting down the chairs.  Once I found them, I struggled to get the two awkwardly packaged chairs into the cart while the "employee of the month" looked on.  While trying to get them into the cart I smashed Baby A's little chubby finger between the cart and the chair.  She let out a high pitched wail and attempted to bite the offending chair.   I tried to calm her with a bag of cookies that I hastily grabbed off the shelf.   She quieted down a bit, and I wheeled the cart to the check out line.  It was about three people deep.   I waited and I waited.  Baby A was about halfway through the bag of cookies when the cashier croaked, "Next".  I asked if she could possibly scan the chairs without having to pull them out of the cart.  She blew a bubble, popped it and said, "Nope".  I hoisted the chairs out of the cart, one at a time trying hard not to smack Baby A in the head.   The cashier gave the the total, and I started to root around my giant purse.  Crap, there was no credit card.  Then it dawned on me, I did not put it back in my purse after ordering pizza the night before.  Just as I was about to tell the cashier never-mind, Baby A grabbed a handful of cookies and threw them on the floor and screamed, "OUT"!  I started apologizing for not having my credit card, when the cashier got on the microphone and bellowed, "Need a Void,  Customer can't pay".  By then, there were several people in line behind me, obviously annoyed.  I could feel my face burn with embarrassment and my antiperspirant start to fail.  Then I remembered, as wet gnawed on cookie sailed past my cheek, I still had to pay for the #$%#$%$ cookies.  I started pawing through the discarded receipts, crumbs, and  wrappers looking for 1.25 in change.  It was at that moment, that Baby A began to grunt, crinkle up her little sweet nose, and turn red.  The stench that permeated from her diaper was beyond heinous.  A woman standing behind me whispered, "Good Lord!"  Then out of the depths of my purse I spotted a few more quarters.  Done!  I high tailed it to the car with my stinky baby, cursing under my breath.  I guess I will never get those chairs, there is no way I am going there again.  Go suck an egg Monday, I hate you!

Sorry about your Porsche...

First of all I would like to make a blanket apology to whom ever drives a black Porsche that was recently detailed and parked in front of Target. Yesterday, I scored a rock star parking spot at Target, right near the door.  As I was pulling into the spot, I noticed the shiny new black Porsche parked to my left.  "Must be nice", I muttered as I put my swagger wagon into park. Baby A was in the back seat chomping on a banana and a baggie of almonds.  I opened her door and proceeded to do my usual task of emptying her car seat of discarded snacks.  I usually dump them on the ground, because I figure that is environmentally friendly. Surely, some famished bird needs a snack.  As I was picking things out of her seat, Baby A felt it would be a great time to spit mashed bananas and chewed up almonds on my hand.  Without thinking, I shook my hand out the door and flung the chewed mess.  I promise I was not intending to soil the perfectly detailed Porsche.  When I saw what I had done, I glanced around and discovered no one had been watching. I looked at the car, a lump of almond encrusted banana was now slowly sliding down the driver side window.  I grabbed a baby board book out of the car, and attempted to flick the glob of mush off.  It worked, however now there was a beautiful slimy trail of goo left behind.  I grabbed a baby wipe and very gently attempted to wipe it off.  This just spread the mess over more of the window.  I was scared that the damn car alarm would go off if I scrubbed too aggressively.  I was just about to give up, when a piece of sticky, slobbered on fruit snack sailed past my head and landed on the front windshield.  I did the only thing I could think of, I got the hell out of there.  I threw my swagger wagon in reverse and went to Wal-Mart. 

Subjective Glimmers of Brilliance

I often have these glimmers of "brilliance" in the middle of the night.   I want to remind you that brilliance is subjective, that being said...  this idea was brought on by a situation that sadly has happened more than once.  If you have a toddler, or any crotch level kiddo you can relate.  This is my infomercial.  We first see a mom pulling on the typical mommy uniform, black yoga pants and a t-shirt.  She attempts to slather on some lip gloss and check her hair in the mirror when a toddler with a snotty nose runs full force into her crotch, giving her a full on leg hug.  This child is sneaky, and subtly wipes his little button nose all over his mommy's black yoga pants.  Mommy grins, picks up her little cherub and plops him into his highchair, where he devours a bowl of yogurt.  She picks him up, sets him down and turns to find the washcloth to clean him up with.  The little angel, with an adorably yogurt  smeared face goes in for another leg/crotch collision hug.  Next scene, the Mommy is waving goodbye as she drops off her toddler at school.  The camera zooms in on her crotch area which is now smeared with crusty white yogurt and flaky snot streaks.  Mommy is completely oblivious, until she walks into a department store and she notices people staring, one utterly creepy guy gives her a wink and a thumbs up.  Now we hear the voice-over.  "Ladies, are you tired of the crusty crotch?  Are you ready to wash that snot right out of your pants?  Now introducing Le Crotch Bib.  Your children have a bib to protect their clothes, why not wear a bib to protect your crotch?  Tie one on when you get dressed in the morning, and then take it off after dropping off the kids.  Le crotch Bib, get one today!"

What do you think, other than I really need to be sleeping more?  I am sure the person that invented the snuggie had insomnia too!

Tit for Tat Screw That!

I feel as if all of my children are going through some sort of phase right now.  Baby A only wants to be held, Middle C is embracing the FU fives, and E has morphed into little Ms. Tit for Tat.  My easy, breezy first born has traded in her hallo.  If I have to hear "That's not fair", one more time I just might give myself a swirlie.  She counts and compares everything, chomping at the bit to discover an chance of injustice.  Today, I was playing around with the girls and I semi depantsed Middle C.  She was giggling, then out of the blue I heard a shrill panicked scream,"That's not fair Mommy, I want to have you pull my pants down too!"  I couldn't help but laugh, which really sent her over the edge. "You never laugh at Middle C, it is not fair."  The evening went down hill after that.  I swear E counted how many individual pieces of macaroni and cheese she had versus her sister. How many times do I say, "life is not fair"?  I might have to start charging her 10 cents for every time she utters the words "not fair".  I could use the proceeds to purchase a nice bottle of whine, I mean wine.

Caught Bubble Handed!

 Middle C why must you test me, and why can't I help giggle at your antics?  Middle C was ordered to take a bath after getting covered in mud.  She found the only puddle in miles with about a tablespoon of water in it to frolic in.  I suppose that is some sort of talent.   I had her strip and get in the tub.  What was I thinking having shampoo on the edge of the tub?  Of course she would empty out the whole bottle of Aveda Shampure in the tub to make a frothy mess.  There is no way she would have grabbed the HEB generic shampoo to play with, she has standards after all.  Grrrrrr!

 

Wax...Relax

The idea of relaxation changes with age and the number of kiddos.  I used to say that an hour massage was the key to a stress free life, and then it was a pedicure, and now it is a toss up between the dentist and a brow wax.  My needs and expectations have hit an all time low.  Today I had a few kid free minutes, and needed to get a brow wax.  I am not picky, I am all about convenience.  I went to the little shop a few doors down from my daughter's dance studio.  Let me preface this by saying that it was only eight dollars.  Ok, so I am escorted into the little dark, dank room that smelled faintly of burned hair.  I glanced around at the dust that has accumulated on the light and notice the crock pot with what I think is hot wax?  Perhaps a normal person, or the person that I was several years ago would have bolted.  Nope, I was so happy just to lay down on the table and close my eyes for a bit waiting for the brow lady.   I was rudely awaken by the "relaxation" music.  I'm not quite sure who thought that bagpipes would be a good choice, but whatever.  My eyes flutter open and I get my first glance at my brow lady.  She was wearing an eye patch and it was not because she was trying to be a pirate.  Honestly, I didn't even think twice about her ability to craft my bushy brows into a arched work of art with one eye.  I just closed my eyes and literally slept through the whole ripping out my hair ordeal.  I was woken up by a grunt and someone attempting to thrust a hand mirror in my face.  What can I say...I am now in fact a fan of the one eyed, crock pot wax woman.  It was the best nap I have had in awhile.  Sigh...

Open Mouth Insert Glass

On Easter Sunday, there was no Sunday school or nursery at our Church.  We had all three girls in a packed pew for an hour and a half, the longest service EVER.  I attempted to be prepared, however the snacks were all discovered and devoured within the first fifteen minutes.  As the service progressed, Baby A was rooting around in my purse unwrapping a tampon, Middle C was scratching her bum and wiping her hand on her sister.  When it was time for communion we passed another friend of mine.  We made eye contact, our once perfectly coiffed hair now a  tangled mess, our pressed Easter dresses looking like a wrinkled road map, and the children we were carrying were attempting pull our dresses off our shoulder.  I am still a bit shell shocked after enduring the service.  So the other day I ran into a Dad who attends our Church.  I don't know him all that well.  He asked me about our Easter.  I said, "It was good, but my God...that was the longest service ever and to not have child care.  I swear I was tempted to take the whole tray of wine from communion and down it."  He politely smiled, chuckled and walked away.  I was only half kidding...

And so it begins...

Yes, it is that dreaded time of the year again...the hunt for a swim suit. The mere thought of it turns my stomach. The three way mirrors, the "hygienic" sticker on the crotch, trying to cram your underwear into the bottom half of the suit. YUCK!   I thought my first stop would be the internet. I can get it shipped to me and try them on at home. My first stop the Victoria's Secret site. There is free shipping for items over 100.00. I figure I get a few, try them on and send the majority back.
Decisions, Decisions, decisions... Beach Sexy, Miracle Bra, Very Sexy, or Body by Victoria. Let's see Beach sexy, I will be running after three kiddos on the beach, sand always seems to gravitate to the crotch region, my youngest has a fascination with straps (she prefers them off the shoulder). I'm going to have to say no to the beach sexy or very sexy. That leaves Miracle Bra or Body by Victoria. I am excited about this Miracle Bra idea. I have been clinging to my A+ since adolescence and I would really love a miracle. The woman wearing the suits looked to either be blessed by God or a surgeon. I don't think that Victoria has the power to work a large scale miracle. I loved some of the tops, but I just can't envision my mini miracle in there. On to the body by Victoria...please. My body is Body by E, Middle C, and Baby A. So the search continues.

Pooptastic!

I swear, I couldn't make this up if I tried.  The other night I started coming down with a nasty cold.   I woke up @ 1:00 am and  took some sinus medication and passed out on the couch.  I got up at 6:00am in a medication stupor to get E up for school, then I fell back to sleep.  I woke up at 8:45 and realized that I had 15 min to get out the door to take Middle C to Preschool.  I threw some clothes on everyone, and headed off to school.   Baby A always has snacks hidden in the crevices of  her car seat, so I didn't think anything of it  when I looked in the rear view mirror and saw her munching on something.  When we got to school, I threw the swagger wagon in park and preceded to get the kiddos out of the car.  I notice Baby A has a little chocolate smeared on her face and fingers, whatever we were late! We jogged into the building.   I sign Middle C in while attempting to hold on to the wiggling, screaming, Baby A. Tired of her thrashing, I set her down and let her meander down the hallway.  I spy her halfway down the hall "chatting" with a little old lady from the Church.  I smile to myself and then I notice the woman is not really chatting she is scrunching up her nose in disgust.  Really?  Baby A is so sweet and friendly.  The lady calls out to me, "Is this your child?"  I smile, and nod.  "Well," she continues, "I think someone has been playing in her feces. She is really smelly and has some on her face."  With that Baby A, wipes her little chubby hands on the door and grins at me.  I apologize profusely, begging the woman to understand that I have a cold, can't smell, and I thought my daughter had just eaten chocolate.  The woman shook her head and walked away.  "Don't worry, I will clean it off." I called out to her.  Feeling like a winner of a mother I rushed home to give Baby A bath.  I kept having to call my hubby over to give her a quick smell to make sure I got rid of it all.  Once again I am that mother...
***  The photo is not of Baby A eating poop, just mud.********