Intervention needed please.

"Welcome to Starbucks what can I get you?"

Mmmm, I'll take  a triple venti, two splenda, soy, latte and an intervention please.

Okay, so you know it is bad when your 3 year old pretends to drive his little car around the backyard while holding an imaginary cell phone to one ear and places a perfect Starbucks order to an imaginary Starbucks employee.

Yeaaaaah, I am going to want to put the phone down while driving and ween myself off the lattes.  But I warn you it isn't going to be pretty.  I am going to suffer withdrawal symptoms.  Bad.  Withdrawal.  Symptoms.  

This is seriously not my fault though!  Those Starbucks people are putting an addictive additive into their coffee.  I know what you are thinking.  Yeah, its called caffeine dummy!  No, it is more than that!  I think it is akin to crack!  Those  people are putting crack rock in their coffee!  I crave it.  My own coffee tastes nothing like it.  If I don't get it I still end up thinking about it all day.  I even have that stupid VIP card they offer.  Just so I can feel better about saving 10% when buying a $5 latte every morning after my workout!  Holy Hell, I am spending $5 every morning in addition to my gym membership!  My husband is going to kill me!

I would give up the coffee altogether but then who would take care of my children when I couldn't get out of bed?  It has gotten to the point that I drink that shiz all day long just to function.  And if the pot goes cold, well yippee we have iced coffee for later.  Oh, lord!  Is there a twelve step program somewhere?

"Hello, my name is Kari and I am addicted to Starbucks, my cell phone and the computer (damn you Facebook!).  While, I should be cleaning my house and making sure my son isn't stuffing rocks up his nose I am checking my email, drinking coffee and talking to my sister on my cell phone."

Like any good addict I am not going to go into the glass of red wine that has a standing appointment with me everyday at 5pm just so I can make it till Daddy comes home and not end up twitching and muttering to myself in the corner while my children set the house ablaze.....

Dear Walmart,

I am writing this letter to let you know that if I didn't have to shop at your store I wouldn't.  I am feeling  malice beyond the usual love/hate relationship that I have with you normally.  Please allow me to tell you why....

It isn't enough that you never open up more than 2 lanes even though your store is slammed.  And it isn't enough that you put all the As Seen On TV stuff and candy at the cash register for my child to man handle and beg for.  Nooooooo, you went ahead and put candy, gum, and crappy toy machines at the bathrooms.  Not only that but you put the bathrooms in the TOY SECTION!!!!!

Walmart, you suck.

Obviously you have never taken a 3 year old freaky lil monkey through the toy section when he already is cranky and about to pee his pants.  Yes, he would rather pee himself if it means he can catch one more feel of that Sponge Bob toy. 

How could you?  Oh, wait....I know how you could.  Because somewhere in some glass encased office at the top of some building your Exec's are sitting there in their really expensive suit and it came to them.  

"Hmmmm, how to get more kids into the toy aisle when their parents don't want to take them?? Well hell, kids always have to pee the minute they get somewhere!!!  We'll put the bathrooms right there in the toy section!  I am brilliant!  I think I will give myself another $500 thousand dollar bonus for screwing the parents shopping at  Walmart!"

Well, if it wasn't for your really good bargains and the fact that you carry just about everything so I can do all the shopping in one go (yes, I love being able to buy my spray paint, avocado's and shotguns all at the same time) I would never see you again.  

Sincerely,

One P.O.'d Mommy

PS  

I will see you tomorrow.  I forgot to pick up toilet paper.

PSS

I still hate you.

The Replacement

It has happened.  The thing I feared.  I am no longer the boy's BFF.  I was so touched when he looked at me with those deep brown eyes and said "Mama, you're my best friend."  I felt so special.  Yet, all at once it is gone. 

We were outside swinging on the play set (Auntie Lala- that is the rocket ship to you) and Maddox saw the kitty wander by and said,

"Hey, Linus!  You are my best friend in the whole world!"  Somehow that minimizes my best friend status.  Stinking cat.

Pee Pee Predicament

Okay, so the Boy has been using the potty for almost a year now and it has been really great to be diaper free.  I celebrated, hell, I took pictures when he first took a poop in that darn potty seat.  Why?  He was the most miserable kid when it came to changing his diaper!  I would let him get to the point where that bad boy was swinging between his legs it was so full.  I would literally have to sit on him and hear him scream bloody murder to get him to let me change it.  Freaky Lil monkey.  I mean who wants to sit in a poo filled diaper?  My son evidently.

So, like I say, I was ecstatic to be rid of the diapers.  That is to say I was ecstatic until about a week ago.  That is when Maddox started peeing the bed.  At first it was just an accident, but after the third night of wetting the bed all night long (and completely soaking through the pad that is supposed to stop this from happening) and not waking up I knew we had a problem.  So now his room smells like pee.  Fun.  I tried spraying the mattress with cleaner, sprinkling it with baking soda and nothing has worked.  But the bigger problem is Mad is no longer waking up in the middle of the night to pee.  He is sleeping right through for some reason.  Hence we are back to the Pull Ups.  Ugghh.  I am struggling with this hard core.  I feel like I am taking a huge step back here.  He knows it is not a diaper and I tell him "do not pee in this!  This is just in case you have an accident."  And he did wake up last night and go pee but that damn Pull Up was already soaked at 1am!  Why!!!  I thought it was annoying that he woke me up five times a night to use the bathroom.  Never mind that he uses it on his own all day long without me.  At night the boy wants an audience.  But this is just so much worse.  

The day I finally broke down and went to Target and bought more Pull Ups was the day he woke up having peed the bed all night long again and was so wet with pee that he had developed a rash where the elastic on his pants was rubbing.  I mean for crying out loud boy!  Don't even get me started on how he doesn't want to take a bath first thing in the morning.  Soooo, my choices are a 7 am bathtub wrestling match or smelling him and his stank (because at this point it stinks so bad it is like a separate entity and we should probably name it....I am thinking Duane sounds good or maybe Neville- those sound like nice stinky names)  until.....oh, about 10am when he finally acquiesces to being scrubbed!  Yeah, that's right, if we don't have anywhere to go some times I will let the boy smell like pee until I have had at least two cups of coffee and can face the screaming mimi that will be the morning bath. 

But, oh for the love of all that is holy, what am I going to do about the bed wetting!!!  I just know that Pull Up is going to be soaked......

Calm and Serene? Who me?

I was having a play date with a girlfriend and her children the other day at a hellish place called Ollie Koala's (basically a local kid spot in the Chucky Cheese vein) while I tried to eat and feed my daughter my son ran around completely not listening to me.  He would not come sit down and have lunch.  I cajoled, I ordered him, I was stern.  Finally I dragged him over and listened to him scream and try to scramble out of the booth.  I knew it was just going to get worse the longer he went without food.  But does he want to stop to eat?  No.  It got so heated that I had to take him to the bathroom to talk to him.  Okay, so I talked and he screamed at the top of  his lungs and flung himself around a public restroom.  By the time he finally calmed down enough so that I could take him back to be around normal children I was an inch away from having a panic attack right there in arcade hell.   
This is not me. Panic attacks, my blood pressure rising to the point I think my head is going to explode.  Are you kidding?  When I had my daughter I had some pretty strong postpartum depression and went on Zoloft.  It helped a lot.  I stopped feeling empty and distant from my baby and felt like me again...and then the panic attacks started.  I started getting up at 5 am to work out- thinking that exercise would help release some of the tension.  Sure I fit into my pants better but I am still struggling to stay calm in the face of my son's temper tantrums or constant whining, tormenting the dog, whatever it is all while the baby is crying.  It takes everything I have to not scream most times.  

I am telling my girlfriend this as my son freaks out on our play date and she sagely tells me-

"I don't believe in calm and serene without medication"

I love her for telling me I am being too hard on myself.  So, both she and my prescribing physician tell me that I need to adjust my sense of normal.  That there is a new normal now, one that involves two kids who are needy.  One that involves twice 

the amount of laundry, dishes, mess, and attention.  That is not to say that he didn't adjust the milligrams of Zoloft I am taking, he did.  But he also let me know it is okay to want to scream and freak out on the boy when things have been especially hairy and he is out of control.  Now I just wait to see if the meds will work and try to cut myself some slack and learn how to take deep breaths again.  That is after I drag my son kicking and screaming out of Ollie Koala's with one hand while carrying my daughter and a giant diaper bag with the other.

I gotta get me some Big Love

I was watching Oprah the other day and she was visiting the Waiting for Zion Ranch.  You know that polygamist ranch out in Texas that the government raided because of all the suspected underage marriages.  While at first the idea of polygamy is disturbing, it did get me thinking- as I folded my five hundredth load of laundry and surveyed my own little compound, which was littered with toys and magazines, the sink full of dishes and dinner waiting to be made.  I stood there all greasy and wishing for a shower, tired from dealing with a psychotic kid and a needy baby and I started thinking that it would be kinda nice to have another wife around this joint right about now.  Well certainly there would have to be some ground rules.   No long dresses and poofy hair- I don't know what that is about.  And then there is the issue of sharing my husband with another woman- hmmm, that probably should have come before the dress and the hair?  Anyways, the second wife would have to remember that I, as first wife, have hierarchy in Chez Jenkins.  Second Wife would get all my least favorite house chores- she would have to fold and put away the laundry, mop the floors and do the dishes.  ALL THE DISHES!  I on the other hand am happy to clean the bathrooms, dust, cook and basically do everything else.  But think about it- you want to go get your hair done during the week- that's fine, make Second Wife watch the kids.  You want to go out on the weekend for drinks with your girlfriends?  Vacation with your husband?  Oh, Second Wife!  

I am serious, if the mere thought of having to share my husband with another woman didn't make me want to bury him and the imaginary Second Wife under a concrete slab in the backyard I would so do it.  As it is I am thinking I am going to have to wait for someone to invent me a robot like our girl Rosie from the Jetsons.

A long time coming

I have been putting off writing this post.  I might even say that I have been too afraid to write it.  

But here it is, I am saying it out loud for the world to hear. 

 I HAVE AN EATER!  MY DAUGHTER EATS EVERYTHING SHE CAN GET HER LITTLE GRUBBY HANDS ON!  

Whew!  

I will admit that, not unlike one of those Chinese mothers from a Pearl S. Buck novel, I have worried that if I say that my child is a wonderful anything that the Gods will smite me. 

 "No, no, she is an awful eater, so skinny.  She hates everything." (Just a little protection, you know, in case those spiteful Gods exist.)

 After dealing with the starving Marvin that is my son, I am in awe of a child who actually enjoys eating.  Maddox would rather not be bothered.  If it didn't hurt to be hungry I truly believe he wouldn't eat.  In fact he largely finds any excuse not to.  I would find this strange except for the fact that my husband feels the same way.  Did I ever mention that there have been times after my pregnancies that I couldn't wear his t-shirts or boxers cause they were so small.  He's 6 foot and about 150 lbs soaking wet.  I'm 5'3'' and I couldn't get those boxer shorts above my knees.  Ouch, so not fair when your hubby's thighs are more slender than your own.  Did I also mention that he doesn't seem to age?  That he gets carded for lottery tickets.  I could buy a fifth of tequila and no one would bat an eye.  But I digress....back to my wonderful eater....

  

I worry that now that I have announced that Bodhi Mae is the best eater I have ever seen that I am tempting the Fates.  

So, with my own twisted neuroses, I am throwing caution to the wind and am going to write all about it....

Let me first say how much I love to watch her eat.  I love the little "Mmmmmm..."  sounds she makes as she stuffs her mouth full of peas and carrots.  I love that I have yet to find food that this kid will not eat.  Broccoli, collard greens, yes collard greens, asparagus, brown rice, chicken, cauliflower...the list goes on and on.  I love that when she is close to running out of food and is still hungry she squeals and starts banging her little fists on her tray until you give her more.  Did I mention that she only has two teeth?  She eats everything with only two little teeth!  

Bo refuses to be fed, she wants to do it all on her own.  And I must say she is quite adept too.  I wouldn't have believed it after Mad.  The boy who wouldn't feed himself until he was at least 2 years old.  But that girl can drink out of a water bottle and hold her own sippy cup already.  Give this child one of those Gerber cheesy puffs and she is happy.  

As a result of all this wonderful eating I have a chubby little princess.  Her chunky little butt just cracks me up as she hangs onto the side of the tub while I am getting her bath ready.  Maddox had no booty to speak of- when he was her age the skin hung off of it like a 90 year old man he was so skinny.  

It is such a simple yet amazing thing to have a kid that eats and is happy and interested in it too! I am sure my girlfriends and family are sick to death of getting phone calls that are singularly about what my daughter is eating..."Yeah, you heard me, she is eating pineapple!  I am watching her put it in her mouth by herself! Oh my god!  She just ate a carrot chunk!"  

I have been blessed.  I think that those sick and twisted gods must have given me Maddie and his sad eating habits so that I would sing hallelujah when my daughter came along.  What ever the reason I don't care!  I am thrilled to find new things to feed that kid!  Next on the menu...Thai food!