If you were a tiny baby still inside an egg, I'd eat you up

How could it be possible to eat so much food on Thanksgiving that a person is "Beyond stuffed", and then day after, to eat so many leftovers that a person feels "Like I'm going to explode" and still lose 5 pounds in 3 days?

A while back I told you that Lennie was on a mission to drop his football weight now that his playing days are supposedly in the past. (If I was a more attentive blogger, I'd provide a link.)

Ok, I caved. Here's the link. I was complaining that he lost something like 18 pounds in a week and a half or something like that. Yeah, well stretch that out a bit longer, and dude has lost 75 pounds in 2 1/2 months. What the hell?

Now, he is a totally different man, and I sort of feel (at certain not-to-be-mentioned times) like I am cheating on old Lennie with new Lennie. Granted, he worked his ass off, literally. But to lose 5 pounds over Thanksgiving weekend? I'm going with tapeworm on this one.

Here's a side by side comparison of the transformation:

Football days Lennie (9/08)............... Nowadays Lennie (11/08)

And, no he did not decide to change careers and become a Scottish golfer. He just looks cute in that hat. And while I miss those arms, there is a bright spot in this new deal: six pack abs.

If you were wondering about me by the way - aww how sweet, thanks for asking - I'm racing along at a speedy 2 pounds a month since Ella's arrival. Don't be jealous.

Oh yes, you may be wondering what's with the title of this post? These are the things my children tell each other while playing board games. We should totally not play board games anymore.

From My Family to Yours....

Bag Tag

Ok, I've been bag tagged by Dorsey. This requires me to:
A. Dump out the contents of my purse onto the floor. No problem there, this happens on a regular basis anyway.
B. Photograph the goods. Never done that before, but I am game.
C. Describe the contents of my purse to the Internet & answer questions. Awesome.
D. Tag 4 other victims bloggers. Done. If I have to go through this then so do 4 of you. MUA HA HA HAAAA!



Here's the reason why my left shoulder hurts all the time:



I can't even believe some of the shit in here. We'll just go clockwise here starting from the bottom left. Take for example:
1. The "I Voted" sticker from 21 days ago
2. Two separate forms of Benadryl for Connor in case he eats a food he is allergic to. And of course, the EpiPen that I've thankfully never had to use but ALWAYS carry just in case. Uhh, EpiPen? Where'd you go? So, I have enough Benadryl to drug Connor into a coma, but no EpiPen, niiiiice. (Note to self: put EpiPen in purse and stop telling Internet how bad I suck as a mom)
3. Sunscreen Spf 55 because I like to have that beachy fresh glow.
4. Hair clip
5. Cell phone
5. Mac powder. LOVE it.
6. 3 lipsticks: 2 Avedas and 1 Clinique Black Honey (a favorite since college)
7. Tide stick
8. Starbursts which Lennie mysteriously threw at my head on Saturday
9. 2 packs of gum. Orbit, which sucked and thus has been sitting in my purse half empty for a while. And Extra Banana Strawberry which is delish.
10. Sunglasses
11. 3 pens. None of which are EpiPens.
12. My nursing cover which I love, but still get dirty looks when I breastfeed in public anyway. I think next time, I'll squirt them in the ass after they pass by.
13. Ella's diapers and wipes case.
14. Wallet
15. Minivan keys and Harris Teeter receipt (the snob grocery store, I just can't help myself)
16. A carrot and sweet potato covered bib with 2 dirty spoons.
17. Organic pomegranate lollipop that a random mom at a birthday party gifted me with for Sayde. I'm so keeping it for myself.

That's actually surprisingly little. There's usually a wide assortment of matchbox cars and polly pockets.

Onto the questions:
1. What's the most important thing in the bag? Definitely the EpiPen. Oh, wait.
2. What's the most embarrassing thing? The non-presence of the EpiPen.
3. What's the smallest thing? It doesn't really get much smaller than 'not there at all'.
4. Is there anything illegal? Please don't call Child Protective Services on me.

And now, my sweets, it's time for revenge...on innocent people whom have never harmed me in any way. These beautiful ladies very kindly voted in my header poll the other day, and so I've decided to repay them by swooping down like an eagle on crack and shredding open their purses for the world to see. Your welcome.

Michelle
Jennifer
Ubah
The Nice One

Here's your "I VOTED" sticker

Thank you to everyone who weighed in on the header. It was a very close race and in fact, Sayde and Connor are conducting a manual recount at this very moment to verify the results. But just like CNN, with 0.1% of polls reporting, I'm calling this election for the New Header.

However, a few voters seemed to be quite disturbed by the disembodied floating pea head. Apparently, it speaks volumes that the floating head of my infant daughter seemed perfectly fine to me, but freaked some other folks out. Furthermore, while Lennie originally said he liked the new one because it "suits me" better, he later changed his vote after he actually looked at the new one.

So that actually leaves it at a tie, which by the way was my worst nightmare. But nobody seemed slightly horrified by a cuddly newborn picture, so I think we'll stick with that.

PS. To those of you who hated the pea head, don't scroll down to the bottom.

Yay or Nay

Ok, kids. What do you think of the new blog header? I get a little antsy from time to time. When I was kid, I rearranged the furniture in my room pretty much once a month. But, looking at the beautiful picture of newborn Ella that Helmey made, I get a little nostalgic. So, I'll leave it up to you. If no one votes, I may have a flashback of sitting alone at a cafeteria table in elementary school and cry myself to sleep at night because nobody likes me. But no pressure.

Here's the old one...

Keep the new or bring back the old?

Things One and Two

Ok so this doesn't count as a real post, I realize, but I'm in the middle of cooking dinner so you get what you get and you don't throw a fit.

Things that my kids said in the last 24 hours:

"My Indian name is Goldfish." (Sayde)

"Cool! I just found gum in my neck." (Connor)

Caution: Don't read this post while eating.

The following conversation took place at the dinner table over chicken sandwiches last night:

Sayde: "Mom, when the doctor made the cut to take Ella out, did it go all the way around your back?"

Me: "No baby, it was just a small cut on my tummy, remember?"

Connor: "Yeah, I came out of your cut too. Right, Mom? Because I needed help to get out"

Me: "That's right."

Connor, continuing: "Yeah, because I was a big giant baby. But not Sayde, she was a little tiny baby. She climbed out all by herself. She was little. Like a poop. Mom, did you poop Sayde out?"

Sayde, crying: "CONNOR! I'm not a poop. Mom, did you poop me?"

Me: cleaning up my dinner plate and walking away.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PS The hook was a birthday present to Connor, obviously.

Almost (but not quite)

A mousetrap.

Sitting up.

Excited.

Gentle.

Sorry.

Remember that time I almost killed you?

So this week, Ella taught herself how to suck her thumb and OH MY GOD. Why didn't she figure this out as a fetus? What a difference it has made now that she has a way to calm herself down. She is an all-natural child who hates pacifiers and is enraged by bottles, so the discovery of her thumb fits in perfectly with her organic preferences. This, combined with the little bit of baby food she is eating now, and retirement is on the horizon for my poor tired boobs. They're so excited, they're already heading South for winter.

Anyway, in the car on the way home from Aunt La La's house last night, Ella did not appreciate being in her carseat. And, by unappreciative, I mean she was red faced, toes pointed, fists out, eyes clenched, SCREAMING. Rolling down the windows and driving at high speeds did nothing, and for some reason she could not find her thumb. This prompted back seat Mommy Sayde to shout "SUCK IT, ELLA, SUCK IT! SUCK IT, ELLA, SUCK IT!"

On a totally unrelated topic, I've been "shushed". Yesterday, for the first time ever, we had a photographer come to the house to take a family picture. And while we were discussing what options we might want, Lennie said we were not interested in Christmas cards. As I began to interject that yes, we are interested in Christmas cards, he gave me the old shusharoo gesture with his hands...twice. Fuck. Now I have to go to prision for murder.

Today if you asked Lenie why I have matching zits on each side of my forehead, he'd say they are Devil Horns.

In other news, it is my birthday today.

Time for Some New Tricks

The last few days, Sayde has been complaining about various ailments: my arm is broken, my tummy hurts, my forehead hurts, my ear, floods, plagues, locusts. I think secretly, she is pissed that Connor had a birthday party and got a lot of attention, and her birthday isn't for another month.
So, last night after she sat up in bed *SCREAMING* that her tummy hurt, again, I went up. Without saying a word I got into bed right behind her, put her little head on my lap and stroked her hair. She immediately quieted down, and closed her eyes. (I remember an evening in my childhood where my Grandma sat by my bed and stroked my hair, I kept dreading the moment she would inevitably stop, but she never did. I must have fallen asleep first.) So we stayed that way for a long long time until finally I eased myself out of her bed, kissed her forehead, and quietly slipped out of her room, and right into Ella's to give her one last nighttime meal before going to bed myself.

Not even one minute later, she burst out of the room *SCREAMING* that her ear hurt. This time Lennie went up and I could hear him giving the Calm-Down Spiel that works oh so well with both Sayde and I. "Take a deep breath! You're being ridiculous! Sayde, this is not how we behave! Calm down!" Shockingly, the screaming continued.

As soon as I was done feeding Ella, I went to the medicine cabinet, got the Children's Tylenol and found Sayde sitting up in bed, alone. At that same moment that she was sipping her Tylenol, Lennie walked in with a little cup of Children's Motrin. Except, his cup was filled with water. He was trying to trick an almost 6 year old into believing that a cup of water was cherry-flavored Motrin. We locked eyes, and for a moment, it was extremely hard not to burst into laughter.

When we left Sayde's room, all I could do was poke him in the ribs and say, "Really?"

As it turned out, neither the Tylenol nor the faux Motrin worked because shortly after this, Sayde climbed into bed with us. But I just had to laugh at the Stupid Parent Tricks that Daddy resorted to last night.

Lo Siento, Mama y Papa

There is a great car wash not too far from my house. You know the kind where they not only send the car through the autowash, but on the other side, a bunch of guys armed with towels, Windex and vacuums are waiting to buff the cars back into shiny newness (or in the case of my minivan, a lesser degree of disgustingness).

Well since my parents were coming into town this past weekend, and I knew I had to pick them up from the airport, I figured I'd make the poop-mobile as bearable as possible and take it to the car wash. Words cannot describe the putrid horror of the backseat of the minivan. A few weeks ago, I bought this little nylon garbage bag for Sayde because I was tired of cleaning all the apple cores and gum wrappers out of the cup holder. I thought it had been working out pretty well; she neatly deposits all her junk into a plastic baggie inside this larger nylon bag and no more soft brown apples for me to touch. Yes, I thought it had been working out well until I reached my hand into the black abyss of the nylon bag and it plunged into a pool of slimy foul-smelling goo which I can only assume used to be an apple. At this same moment, I was also engulfed in an alarmingly large swarm of fruit flies. Did you ever see that scene in "The Mummy" where he opens his mouth really wide and all the bees come flying out? Yeah, that was like the little nylon bag, except with fruit flies, and except it didn't turn me into a zombie chanting "Imhotep". It only turned me into a more nauseous and twitchy version of myself, although I do have an unexplained craving for BRAAAIIINNNNSSSS.

After I ran away from the fly swarm, washed the goop off my fingers, and chucked the nylon bag as far across the backyard as I could, I continued to clean out the minivan. Did you know there was a poopy diaper that was hiding underneath the passenger seat? I didn't. But it explains why I go through air fresheners so fast. Also in the trunk, after I removed the stroller and some canvas bags, I discovered that there were several large greenish ovals about the size of a small turd. I knew they couldn't be poop because:
A. God wouldn't do that to me twice, right?
B. They were too symmetrical
C. They kind of looked like multivitamins that had swollen up with water and started to crumble and decay on the floor of the trunk.
So I scooped them out, and because something is wrong with me, I smelled them. Yup, multivitamins.

I also cleaned out all the newspapers, school art, crayons, toys, hats, juice boxes, wrappers, folding chairs, sweatshirts, coffee cups, receipts, barrettes, water bottles, socks, and books that had been riding around North Carolina with us for weeks. And only then, after I considered it fit for human occupancy, did I dare take my minivan to the car wash and allow my shame to be exposed to strangers with towels.

I watched the guys go to work on the minivan, doors flung open, vacuum humming, a cloud of Windex. Then, they opened the trunk. And started talking to each other in Spanish, and pointing, and laughing. And I wanted to run over and say "Es vitaminas, no es poopies!", but I thought they would probably laugh even more at that, and also assume that I was not only the driver of a turdy minivan but also a little loco. So when they signaled that my car was ready I just gave a polite "Thank you", popped Ella in, and peeled out.

To Mom and Dad, who had to sit in the back of the minivan after it had been through the car wash: The 2nd level of Hell doesn't seem so bad when compared to the 9th, does it? Just ask Sayde, she's been sitting back there for years.

Happy Birthday, Connor!

Dear Connor,

Today was your 4th birthday. When I look at you tonight with your chocolate cupcake smeared all over your cute smiling face, I wish Superman would fly around the world fast enough to pause this moment for a while.

When you were a baby, I used to tuck you into your crib with your softest blankie, kiss your face, and sing to you. I loved this so much because you really seemed to appreciate it. You would look up at me with your little baby face and smile a huge toothless grin, and then promptly fall asleep before the sleepy smile had time to fade. Many nights, I stayed a little while longer after you'd fallen asleep just stare at your beautiful baby self.

These days, when it's late at night, I tiptoe over to your bed to give you one last kiss goodnight. Often you will somehow know that I am there without ever opening your eyes. You fling your arms outward and catch me in a hug. And I stay a little while longer after you've fallen back asleep just to try and make sure I'll always remember how it feels to be hugged by your little boy arms.

You are such a comedian. We thought about putting you in Tae Kwon Do a year early, because after watching Sayde for so long, you are tired of waiting. The instructor said that as long as you weren't a goofball, you could start. When I told Aunt Col about this idea, she pointed out to me that your entire personality is a goofball. Oh yeah, that's right. Maybe next year for Tae Kwon Do for you, kiddo.

Sometimes, when you say things like this, I have to remind myself that you did not travel to Earth from some distant planet; touching down from outer space ready to do battle with the Decepticons, while slinging your Spidey webs, sailing your pirate ship, and fighting various T-Rexes crocodiles and sharks with your swords and giant Hulk muscles.

When we moved to this new house and discovered that two little boys just your age lived a couple of houses away, we were thrilled. After 3 years of hanging out with an older sister, you had become accustomed to tea parties and had taken to carrying your matchbox cars around in a pink butterfly purse. When the boys were wrestling and you joined in, you kept looking over at me. I knew you were waiting for me to say, "Settle down, too rough." When that never came, a light came on in your eyes. Somewhere inside your brain, something clicked and the MONSTER TRUCK lurking within was awakened. While I still occasionally witness you tenderly tucking your cars in, and kissing them goodnight, mostly you are King of All Wild Things. Also, everyday I have to wipe the dried pee off the wallpaper in the bathroom. Thank you for teaching me humility.

It may not be obvious to everyone, but you are sensitive. I have learned the hard way not to yell at you. It nearly broke my heart the time I had to put you in naughty room while you were wearing your Spiderman costume. With the Spidey mask on, the only part of your face I could see was two tear filled eyes. All I wanted to do was scoop you into my lap and squeeze you tight. But then you'd learn that the consequence for pushing your sister is a hug from Mommy, so off to naughty room you went (but you were let out early for playing the pity card so well).

Keep on saving the world from bad guys, little dude. I'll keep on kissing you goodnight.

Love always,

Mommy

Who buys this stuff?

After staying up late last night to watch the election coverage, I'm scraping the bottom of the kids' candy bags. All the chocolate and Skittles are long gone, and we're down to Smarties, Tootsie Rolls and gum. How long until that disgusting looking jelly thing shaped like a finger gets eaten? Only time will tell, but I'm guessing sometime soon after the next sugar crash.

Fingerpop, your days are numbered.

A Brief History of the United States of America...Just Kidding, sorta

Did you know that the Democratic Party was at first called the Republican Party? It was founded by Thomas Jefferson, who was in favor of a Republic, as opposed to strong monarch-type federalist governments. Yes ,you heard that right, the Democratic Party was originally for smaller, weaker federal government. It took the name "Democratic-Republican Party "during the French Revolution and it wasn't until the election of 1824 when it finally split into the two party system we have today, with the Democrats backing Andrew Jackson, and the Republicans backing Henry Clay and John Quincy Adams. Don't say I never blogged about anything besides spiders and crack.

George Washington, however, was opposed to political parties and in his farewell address to the nation upon his leaving office, he stated:

"...the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it. It serves always to distract the Public Councils, and enfeeble the Public Administration. It agitates the Community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another, foments occasionally riot and insurrection."

Yeah, I know, I should have warned you to start taking shots of whiskey before reading my post today (well, I kind of did). I had to read Washington's words like 4 times to understand them. But basically, Washington thought political parties inspired anger towards the opposition, mischief and distraction from the real issues at hand. Pretty relevant for something written in 1796.

212 years later, it has devolved into this: While waiting in the check out line at the grocery store, the clerk said they were giving out free baby bibs. She held up two choices and asked which one I wanted. I chose this:





And then was simultaneously boo'ed and cheered by the people in line behind me. Somehow, I think this is exactly what George Washington was worried about. And this?

Most likely not what Thomas Jefferson had in mind.

Halloween Candy is Crack Cocaine

Whooo baby do I feel better! I must be entering the "manic" phase now. Either that, or I'm still riding high on all the sugar from last night. Seriously, I shit Red #40 this morning. And, I'm still kind of pissed that in our new neighborhood, apparently all the Dads get to take the kids out trick or treating, while the Moms stay home and answer the doorbell. What is this crap all about? Next year, I'm setting up a lawn chair and a cooler full of alcohol in the driveway and I fully expect some Moms to join me. And then when we're good and tipsy, we'll be prepared to force our tired little trick or treaters on to just a few more houses for more chocolate we can steal after they've gone to bed. And the Dads can answer the door. Geez.

Besides the massive dose of chocolate, I got off my butt and cleaned the house and it is amazing how far a clean home will go in improving la mood. I even put my slaves children to work and they actually did a decent job putting away their own clutter. And, it's a warm day so the windows are open and the house smells like a mix of lavender (counter spray), and freshly cut grass. Not too bad for November.

I think also the fact that Lennie hopped an airplane to Cleveland this morning has catapulted me into action. I am now responsible for these 3 little ones once again on my own and it has moved me into a state of readiness. Have you ever heard that it is good to be a little hungry? They say that when you are hungry, you are able to concentrate and focus on things better because it is nature's way of helping you maximize your ability to find food. I think when Lennie is away, my energy levels and sense of humor are maximized because it's the only way I can cope with spending all my time with 3 small maniacs. So, anyway, I'm hoping that this is really the end of crappiness, although I've yet to eat any vegetables or run on the treadmill. I have however, applied a nice healthy dose of mascara. One step at a time.