This aint no beauty treatment

As far as I can remember no one every told me that having kids would do wonders for my complexion.  This being said I would distinctly remember if some one would have told me that I would be getting on the road to looking like Danny Devito.  Sorry to you Danny, but you would make an ugly drag queen.  

Lets see here...I gained an obscene amount of weight and then couldn't get the last ten pounds off after each child.  So there is 20 extra pounds towards Danny-dom.  

Around the time my son was 4 months old I started losing my hair.  That's right, male pattern baldness, up front.  I know, everyone goes through periods of hair loss, but not like this.  I am talking hand fulls of hair falling out here.  Even my hairstylist said something to me.  You know its bad when the woman who does hair for a living thinks that something is wrong with you.  

Yup, it ain't no beauty treatment.  Lack of sleep and worry causes dark circles, wrinkles, and grey hairs (if you have any left).  I don't get to wash my hair, let alone style it, as often as I would like.  My hands are peeling from washing and washing from all the diaper changes and boogery noses.  It looks like someone drew all over my rump with a red Sharpie- oh the stretch marks, what I affectionately like to call "kid graffiti".  I am developing a Maddox wrinkle between my eyes.  This is a wrinkle caused specifically by my son when he does something that makes me frown or worry.

Don't get me wrong, I love my babies more than my life, let alone more than my vanity.  However.... it seems unfair that while I continue to spiral down the fun house slide of sagging skin, botox, grey hair, and I'm not just a member I'm also the president of baldness, my husband continues to get carded for lottery tickets.  Punk.

Six Random Things

So my friend M.  tagged me in her blog, http://talledega.blogspot.com/and named six random things about herself and I am supposed to do the same.  Hmmmm, you wouldn't think that this would be so difficult.  Okay, here it goes Six Random Things about the Mommy....

1.  I still sleep with my baby blankie.  Yup, you heard it right, I never gave it up.  My husband and son have learned to accept it and know not to touch it.  I snuggle under it every night.  The flannel side has to be facing me and blankie must be tucked under my chin before I can sleep.  I don't travel with my blankie for fear of it getting lost or stolen.  That's right people...the maids at hotels are always on the make to steal a 30 year old ratty blanket.

2.  I am a plan-faker.  Let me define that for you.  I love to make plans!  I make all kinds of plans to go out.  It could be dinner, shopping, drinks, a party....you name it and I am game.  Well, right up until the hours before hand and then it is all down hill.  I would rather stay home... I could be using the evening to clean the baseboards, or to organize my collection of BH&G magazines.I start thinking of anyway of getting out of going.  Don't get me wrong, I always end up going and having a great time.  I just have to go through the motions first.

3.  My New Year resolution is to have an clean kitchen sink.  Since I hate doing dishes there is constantly a pile of them in the sink and that is just gross.  Not to mention unsanitary.  Oh, crap I just broke my resolution....there are dishes in there now!

4.  I think life would be much better if it was a musical.  There it is....I am a closet singer.  At home, in the car, the shower, while making dinner.  My poor husband has learned to turn a deaf ear.  Maddox however would like me "stop singing Mama"!  Bodhi Mae likes it though and will go all giggly when I break into "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera.  Maddie just smiles when while brushing his teeth I sing to them.  I sing all day long, most of it off key.

5.  I have weird allergies to all sorts of things...latex, penicillin, codeine, beer, milk, Jamaica, sodium lauryl sulfate- which is in everything from toothpaste to face soap and shampoo  (I do use toothpaste- but it has to be low foaming and stupidly expensive because of it, otherwise my lips and gums threaten to fall off).

6.  I hate surprises.  I can't stand not to know.  Anticipation is the worst, whether it is something fun or daunting.  Anticipation makes me sick to my stomach regardless of what I am waiting for.  Wait- maybe I am just impatient???  Crap! Okay so instead of clean dishes maybe I need to learn to be more patient.....

Waiter there is a kid in my soup

The other day my girlfriend Christine and I took the kiddos to lunch at an Applebee's down the street.  While I am not a huge fan of this restaurant it is kid friendly and they have lunch specials.  While Christine's son Evan sat quietly eating everything put in front of him, my child struggled to get out of his seat, wouldn't eat any of his lunch (I don't know why I bother to order him food at restaurants.  I think I just like to throw money down the drain...) and started screaming at the top of his lungs when I informed him that No he couldn't get down every one else was still eating.  

Please be aware that I carry what I like to call a boredom kit in my baby bag.  We are talking coloring books, crayons, stickers, books, trains, cars, you name it and I have it in that damn bag.  But was he interested in any of that? Noooooooo!  He wants to get down and inspect the fake tree behind the table.  I know what you are thinking, let the kid down for a second, look at the frikkin tree and be done with it.  But the kid was being so annoying that people at other tables were telling me to slip him a mickey.  It was happy hour after all, 2 for 1.... hmmmm a margarita for him and one for me....

Don't bother calling CPS, I didn't give him a drink.  Wanted to, but I didn't.   Instead when Evan was allowed out of his seat and standing nicely at the end of the table Christine suggested that I allow Maddie to join him.  Thinking that they would stand there together and play I relented and unleashed the beast.

BIG MISTAKE!  

And we're off!  It's Maddox out in front!  He's running down the middle of the restaurant, past the waiter....Mama is following close behind, oh poor gal looks pretty harassed!  And its Maddox making a right hand turn into the kitchen!  You heard right- the Kitchen!  And it is Mommy close behind, and she has a hand on his collar and the chase is over!  

Let me tell you the kid is fast!  So, there I was red faced saying hello to the kitchen staff as I struggled to pick Maddox up and get out of there.  

Note to self- Maddox is not to be let out of the high chair.  We may even have to wait a few years before we take the lil monkey back to a restaurant.

It is tough to keep him entertained anywhere but the Hotdog Hut at this point.  Mmmmm, I do love the Hotdog Hut.  So I guess that's okay too.

Munchhausen bi-mommy

There is a funny balance between being a concerned mother and being the frequent flier at your pediatrician's office.  I find myself being of the latter kind.  I don't hesitate to pick up the phone and bug the kid's doc, in fact I am on a first name basis with the reception crew.  I know that they are annoyed by what some would call my "new mommy syndrome".  My husband says that I see pneumonia in every cold, and a genetic disorder in every growing pain.  I probably am over cautious when it comes to my babies, but they are my babies and I make no apologies.  I will gladly shell out that co-pay in exchange for some peace of mind.

So, when recently Bodhi Mae caught a cold and developed a nasty cough on the tail end of our family vacation I knew we were going to end up at the doctor's office.  Her cough worsened and she started sounding wheezy while in the air.  As soon as our plane landed I called the pediatrician and got her in.  

Let me first say that I love the kids doctors.  They are always open!  24 hours a day, 7 days a week!  They even have a mini E.R., so if the kids need IV fluids I can go there rather than the hospital emergency room.  This was a Saturday so it was wonderful to not have to worry about taking her to a walk-in clinic but to be able to see one of her regular doctors.

Taking Bo in I wondered if this was another case of my over reacting.  Would they tell me it was nothing but a cold and tsk, tsk, at my over reaction.  We have been sick in this family one way or another since October and I was starting to worry that they might think I am a Munchhausen mommy with these kids.  Like I said, my co pays are keeping this office open.

Well, as it turned out Bodhi had bronchitis and was really very ill.  Her doctor spent quite a bit of time listening to her lungs and turned to me and surveying me over his glasses said in the most condescending and disapproving tone, "This baby has bronchitis!  She is very sick!"

Well, no sh*t!  Huh, I brought her in on a weekend after traveling for hours for the fun of it.  This is exactly what I wanted to be doing after being away for 9 days and dragging two kids through two airports.  Why do you think I brought her in if it wasn't for thinking that she was probably really sick.  

 He then informed me that she had a fever and to be honest I couldn't tell.  It was 100.2 and the best part is if I had called and given them her symptoms and told them her temp they would have told me to watch her and that her temp was within the normal range- call them back if it went over 101.  Where is my happy medium?

My rant boils down to this- you are either too concerned and they wonder if you are a problem mommy, the over-reactor, or you are not doing enough and your kid is going to fade away under your care.  So, over reacting mommy signing off in the hopes that my kids can stay healthy long enough for me to forget what the inside of my pediatrician's office looks like.

Who wears the pants in the family??

For some strange reason I cannot keep pants on my son. I think I may be raising a nudist. Is it still a nudist if he is wearing a shirt and socks? The disturbing thing is, and he will kill me later for relaying this, Mad has discovered his junk and will not leave it alone. I call it his "junk" because I am not one of those moms who wants to hear anatomically correct terms coming out of the mouth of a three year old. It bothers me. Maybe it is the high pitched voice?
Around here we call them balls, my sister's kids call them jimjim's (don't ask, I don't know why). We call it a corn hole, my sister's kids call it "the wrong spot" (I told you not to ask, I still have no clue over here). Call it whatever you like, I just wish I could get him to leave it alone or at the very least go someplace private inspect the junk and then remember to wash his hands before touching anything in my house.
Today I found him have a raucous time dancing naked from the waist down in front of the mirror in Bodhi Mae's room. The Junk was swinging and Maddox thought there couldn't be anything cooler than the peepee two step. And it must have been cool because I had the fire going I was so cold and I had my pants on.
My biggest problem is how am I to keep this kid from getting sick or giving the rest of us pink eye when he has his hands down his pants, or more often than not, is pant less and discovering his junk? Do you think I could tape mittens to his hands? Ah, who am I kidding. My husband discovered his junk ages ago and he still likes to do the peepee swing dance. Don't kid yourself ladies, you know your man likes to show you the peepee shuffle on the way to or from the shower. Come to think of it...they never stop putting their hands down their pants. Think Al Bundy. They all love to sit on the couch with one hand down the front of their pants watching football. The longer I raise my son the more I realize that while they get taller they really, truly never grow up. I don't care....I am fighting the good fight against the inevitable. Now where are his damn pants?!

That aint no dog that's my baby!

When I first got my dog Lucy it was love at first sight.  She was wall-eyed and tiny, a face only a mother could love.  I did absolutely everything for that dog.  When my husband, my then boyfriend, moved in to my place he was astonished to find that the dog could not jump up onto or down off of the couch.  I had always picked her up and tended to her every whim.  Needless to say out went the pink bejeweled collar and the spoiling of the pooch.  But she was still my baby.  When my sister talked about how much she hated her cats I was shocked.  Those animals had previously lived a life of luxury as the babies of her household before my nephew Jack was born.  Now she couldn't stand the sight of them.  They shed, the litter box made a mess, and  the Doctor blamed them for Jack contracting thrush.  The list of why she detested them was long.  

When Jen very gently tried to tell me that when I had children I would feel the same way about Lucy I balked!  How dare she!  My love for this dog was unfathomable.  I loved my dog just as much as she loved her son!  She obviously hadn't loved those cats as much as I loved my Lucy.  I told her as much! I told her this in no uncertain terms and not quite as nicely as I should have.  

So when my son was born I was determined that Lucy was going to keep her place as our first born.  Yeah, the best laid plans.... 

She had always barked when someone knocked on the door, but now it woke up Maddie after I had to rock him to sleep for an hour.  She had always shed something terrible, but now it ended up in my newborn's mouth.  She had always slept on my lap but now I just wanted to be left alone- I had been holding a baby all day long.  She thought all stuffed animals were hers, and now she was using my baby's toys to chew on!  She was digging in the dirt after grasshoppers and it was no longer cute how dirty she was.  Bath time was no longer fun- no, now I had to bathe a filthy dog on top of everything else!  And then wash all her hair out of the tub while holding a screaming newborn. 

 Lucy's place as best loved dog was nothing but fur in the wind.

The worst part is she knows it.  So when recently I told Maddox to get his shoes on because we were going to Granny and Granddaddy's house Lucy jumped into action.  She loves going to the Grandparents house- they spoil her like I used to.  But this time I couldn't take her with us, we had errands to run and I didnt want to leave her in the car.  After chasing her out of the garage at least three times, we pulled out of the drive listening to the mad barking of a jilted animal.

When we got home instead of jumping up at me and barking hello Lucy went slinking under the coffee table with her tail between her legs.  

"Okay, where is it?" I said knowing there was a little surprise waiting for me.  I checked on the mat by the back door- her go to place when she can no longer hold it.  She doesnt poo in the house often but sometimes the girl just cant help herself if we are gone for long periods of time.  But wait - there was no poo by the back door.  I checked the bathroom...no poo.  Hmmmm, she didnt get into the trash and there is no poo in any of the usual places so.....and that is when I saw it!  

"OH MY GOD! WHAT? WHAT THE? WHAT?" I screamed as I stared, open mouthed, at my kitchen table and the big steaming pile of poo on top of it stared back at me.  That's right, she had pooped where I eat! If that isn't a big F*** you I dont know what is!  I think that if she were capable of jumping up onto my bed she would have pooped on my pillow too.  If it wasnt the fact that she managed to poo on top of a magazine that had been left on the table she wouldn't have lived to bark again.  I honestly would have skinned her alive if I had to get rid of my kitchen table- I just know I would never be able let go of the idea of eating off a surface that had once held Lucy poo.

As it was she didnt come out from under my bed until the next day and by that time I had purchased The Cage.  She now spends a fair amount of time there and to be honest I think that she feels safer now.  Lulu has a place to hide from Maddox and from my wrath which ranges in topics from her shedding, barking, and to her very existance.  Deep down inside she is still my baby and from time to time I find myself feeling guilty- especially early in the morning when she is snuggled next to me all warm and puppy like.  She wakes up and looks at me with that walleyed  face, full of unconditional love, and it is then I remember that at one time she wasn't just a dog, she was my baby.