The Loo

Privacy? That is so B.C., you know, 'Before Children'. My husband recently asked why I always lock the door when I take a bath. I answered him with a stunner- "Because it is the only privacy I get anymore!"

Yes, I realize the husband would like a peek. But come on people, I poop most days with a child sitting on my lap. Or at least standing 6 inches from me, staring, asking if I am done and what I am going to do next. At the very least, if I lock the door quick enough, screaming ensues from the other side.

There is nothing sacred in the A.D., that would be 'After Delivery' to you.

The munchkins stand outside the shower door. They sit on the counter while you do your makeup, at your feet while you do your hair. When you do have a moment to yourself, perhaps in the car, you may drive a good half hour before you realize that you have been singing along to that Wiggles CD and there is not a child in sight. And for instance there is a child sticking his head up between my hands as I type this, all the while screaming at his sister....and truthfully I don't mind. But the pooping by myself, yeah, that would be nice.

I have arrived.

That's it. I have achieved Stay at Home Mommydom. I just covered my hand sanitizer with pretty paper. I got tired of looking at it so I covered it. I have arrived. I have become one with the crafting cult...I think I like it....kum bay ya.... wait that bad boy needs ribbon!

What a world! What a world! Im melting!

After telling Maddox that I couldn't fix the heel of Bodhi's princess shoe he grabs the shoe and begins to moan "Why, why, why!!" while clutching it. He is serious.

There is a real reason we call him Drama.

Baby's got a new pair of shoes

Is it considered in poor taste to call a 14 month old a "shoe whore"? I thought so. Regardless, that is what my daughter is. Bodhi Mae is obsessed with shoes. Hers, yours, mine, Daddy's, Maddox's. You got em, she wants em. When Bo first started crawling she knew that she liked shoes but didn't quite know what to do with them. So what my baby did was what any self respecting shoe whore would do, she put those puppies on her hands and crawled away. Fast forward a few months and now she is walking. Not only is she wearing shoes on her hands, but now she wants you to put them on her feet. Fine. That is not too much to ask, only she keeps coming back and wanting you to change them out. The most frustrating part for everyone involved is when she is wearing a pair she must find particularly fetching and doesn't want to take them off - she just wants to put on another pair right over them. Sister, you cant wear two pairs of shoes at the same time! Believe me I know the feeling of loving too many shoes, but screaming at the top of your lungs and stamping your feet is not going to help the situation.

It was all pretty cute and funny, albeit a little annoying sometimes, right up until the other night. Then Brian and I became concerned. I was dressed up to go out with some girlfriends for dinner and put on a pair of stiletto pumps I never wear (yeah, my life and heels....hahahaha, not happening) when all hell broke loose. At first I thought, because the sound of the screaming was so loud, that Bodhi had hurt herself. It was only when she had thrown herself on my feet and started ranting and grunting while desperately trying to separate me from my Charles David's that I realized that the little Shoe Whore was trying to steal my shoes. I fought her off for a few minutes only to realize that if she was in the same room as these heels I was going to get no peace until I let her wear them. As she is a little short and not that used to walking for four inch heels I opted for removing them and putting them up until my ride came. Needless to say, my husband and I, are concerned. Well, mainly my husband, is concerned. He foresees much shoe shopping in the future and says can feeling his wallet shrinking already. I, on the other hand, am only interested in one thing in particular. Please Lord, let us end up wearing the same size!

Becoming the Mythical Mother

I wish I could be one of those moms who always looks freshly shampooed, dresses in the cutest, latest fashions, has the cutest haircut (she never has roots). Her makeup is flawless, her car is always spotless and her dog never gets fleas. Her children eat organic. Hot dogs are strictly verboten. She runs her own business out of her basement – selling adorably chic children’s clothes, fabulous handmade jewelry, she has a basement. She has sex with her husband at least twice a week and plans their weekly date night. She works out religiously. Her floors are never dirty and you would not dare find a dust bunny the size of a men’s athletic shoe behind her couch. She always sends a thank you card and has her Holiday cards out two weeks before the event.

Oh, hell I could go on but I am starting to hate her. Mainly because I don’t fully believe that she exists. Don’t get me wrong, I still want to be her. But I have begun to think of her like I think of unicorns and dragons. She is more the stuff of Hogwarts than anything I might find in Gymboree. I think I thought of this woman as my model of Motherhood when I first started out. But I have to tell you trying to live up to that bitch’s expectations is exhausting! Yeah, fine…still want to be her. Okay, is it really bad if I can’t remember when I last shampooed my hair? Does dry shampoo count?

In my personal quest at “becoming the Mythical Mother” I must admit my personal care has been one of the things that have slid sideways…just a bit. Not completely mind you. I am not running around this joint green toothed and a head full of unintentional dreads. But any “Me” time has become the “Don’t want to look like something living under a bridge” time. If I find that mysterious and elusive “Me” time lurking in some dark, dust bunny littered corner, I use it to take an extra long shower. You know the one where you shave your legs, armpits and your bikini line. Body lotion is actually used and I floss. Before kids "Me" time was soooo taken for granted. Now if I am not careful lil' things just start falling away. This blog, well it slacked sideways a bit this summer too. It came last to pretty much everything else and normally I am typing with some pretty fuzzy legs.

Sometimes it is all I can do to keep the kids healthy, clean and happy. Then the housework comes next and so on down the line. If all that other stuff gets done in the name of becoming the “Mythical Mother” and there is still time left this house troll shaves her legs. Don’t ask me how I prioritize what gets done, I don’t have the answer to that, although I am sure SHE would hand you a perfectly organized and monogrammed day planner. I think all mommies have that friend they look at and think “how does she do it?” But I am willing to bet underneath the polished facade and that ever smiling face is one knarly bikini line. I mean nobody is that perfect, right?

Yeah, yeah, fine…still want to be her.

Cheese is the time, is the place, is the motion, cheese is the way we are feeling...

Cheese. Glorious cheese. I buy it in bulk. I am talking logs of cheese that would make a Wisconsoneer, (Wisconsonor, Wisconsonite... what exactly do you call people from Wisconsin? I digress...) proud. Why do I buy cheese in such vast quantities one might wonder. Because it is the mainstay of my son's diet. How the kid is not so bound up as to be rigid, the only fruit he will eat is bananas and apple sauce, is a miracle. But he is getting enough calcium by God!

Cheese is the answer to every question to which you might put to him.

Q. Where are you going?

A. To get some cheese.

Q. What are you doing?

A. Eating cheese.

Q. What do you want to be when you grow up?

A. Cheese.

Q. Why did you hit your sister?

A. She looked at my cheese.

He is a very interesting little boy. I never tire of watching him. Did I mention I am lactose intolerant... I am however looking into buying Maddie one of those giant cheese hats. This way he can not only eat it but wear it. I will be posting a pic as soon as it gets here.

Super Summer Slacker

Yes, I am the super-summer-slacker Mom. Summer has come and I have become incredibly lazy. Instead of keeping up with the blog it has gone the way of the scrapbook- if the computer could be dusty and underneath my bed it would be. Just as it would be used to jot down shopping lists and random phone numbers in the sad way that my journal died. My days have been a blur of slip n' slides, bouncy water slides, beaches and pools. Instead of writing all the silly, crazy, annoying, touching, bizarre things that my kids do I... repainted the living room, redecorated in a beachy theme and partook in midday margaritas while the kids played out in the backyard and on the sun porch.
I love summer. So now that I have rested I here my little update. Maddox and Bodhi Mae are brown as berries and have golden highlights in their hair. They are obsessed with pools and the beach. We touched a dead hammerhead shark the other day. I had nightmares, but for days Mad pulled himself across the floor using only his arms and screaming "I'm a shark! Aaarrrrr!" Bodhi didn't think much of the shark, she likes to eat sand. Of which there is a lot all over the floor of the house, but I am loathe to clean it up. It makes me feel like I am on vacation.

Bodhi Mae started walking shortly after her first birthday and luckily she had her Nonni (otherwise known as 'slave girl') to walk around the house with her in circles. She is saying 'Mama, Dada, woof, Maaaa' (which we think is Maddox- mostly because she walks around the house screaming it when he is from home) and something that sounds like 'thank you'. She is still a very serious little girl and likes to stare. She will look strangers up and down, head to toe, a good four or five times before venturing a smile. She seems to be a very old soul.

Maddox is, well, Maddox. He exists on a liquid diet and cheese. He screeches and says things like- "I'm busted brother!" and "That's the freshest!" He will spend most of the day pretending to be some kind of mythical creature or animal and will only answer you if you refer to him as his chosen moniker. For example; "Dragon, would you like a snack?" or "Snake-boy, do you need to use the potty before we go to the store?" The other day he started dancing to imaginary music in his head and shaking his booty like some girl from a rap video. Doubled over, hands on his knees, booty popping up and down like Beyonce. I am not sure when I should become concerned....we don't watch MTV.....hmmmmm.

Soooo, now I renew my commitment to my blog. I must remind myself that my poor children have no scrapbooks and that I am the crappiest journal keeper ever. Now if you will excuse me, I am off to inflate a gigantic squirting, bouncy, water slide, pool thingy!