War.

So this week is Screen Free Week or some such nonsense. IDK, I was too busy facebooking and pinning shit to thoroughly research the concept.

However, I am big on limiting my kids' screen time: Playstation, Nintendo DS (which I refer to as the Game Boy, just because I can never come up with the real name), TV, computer...They are supposed to get two hours a day per popular guidelines. I'm not sure who's guidelines those are, but I'm caught between feeling like that's an awful lot and simultaneously feeling like it's not enough. I'd like to plug the little snots into the TV for all but the 11 hours that they're sleeping, but Mommy Guilt prevents me from doing so. Well, that and I can actually see their brains melting after a particularly long Lego Star Wars sesh.

Today, Thing 2 and I were lazing about while the baby was napping, and trying not to turn on the TV for entertainment.

Thing 2: "Mom, don't you want to play a game with me?" The child never asks, Mom, mom would you play with me, or Care to join me for a game, or something that I could possibly answer, No to without feeling like a total failure as a mom. But don't you want to play with me? Gah. Of course I want to. Nothing else I'd rather...

Me: I suppose. You pick out a game; I have to switch the laundry.

I return to the room. Me: What'd you pick?

Him, extending a deck of holographic Star Wars cards to me: I couldn't find anything good. What are these?

Me, already regretting my decision: Playing cards. Want me to teach you to play War?

Him, nodding enthusiastically: Yes!

We spend the next hour and a half (I shit you not) playing War. He's like a War savant and picks it up within a nano-second. Well, it's also possible that you just need to know how to count and he's had that down for a few years now.

I'm really interested in the game for the first ten minutes, but this is mostly in a parental, oh isn't he having fun sort of way.

The next forty minutes I squirm around on the floor trying to alleviate the mounting pressure in my lower back cause from slouching over to repeatedly straighten the slippery holographic cards in their piles.

The next ten minutes, I find relief by lying on my stomach and playing. Thing 2 copies my position and seems to being lulled to sleep by our rhythmic card playing.

Double War!!! This could be it! Maybe he'll get all my K's and I'll go out in a blaze of glory.

Ugh. No. I spend the rest of the card game actively trying to lose; slipping my face cards into his pile when he takes a potty break, including an extra card into lost Wars. The game still plays on for what feels like eternity.

Finally, he turns to me with those sweet (almost) green eyes with beautiful, long lashes that are only seen on pre-pubescent boys and says, "Mom, don't you want to watch TV with me?"

Me: Yes. Yes, I do.

I ate all the Easter candy for lunch; or, How's Your Diet Going?

I get asked that a lot. I guess that's what I get for putting before and after pictures on the Internet, hey? People everywhere are looking me up and down. Hey, eyes up here, all right? Focus on my EYES folks.

This last month has been...meh.

There was a lot going on in March; three birthdays, three birthday parties, two double ear infections (consecutively), a sprained ankle, a mini-vacay, spring break, going back to work part-time, and trying to find time to work on my own business. There was also very little exercising going on (damn you self), and while I managed to eat fairly well, my kids' Easter candy called my name a few times. So did Franzia. He whispers my name softly to me every evening. I try to drone out his sweet voice by screaming even louder at my kids.

While technically, I only gained a pound and a half, I feel like I gained 5. My midsection feels mushy and my energy is way down. This week I've managed to drag myself back on the exercise bandwagon and I'm starting to feel a little better.

I have two weight loss goals coming up.

1. OBGYN visit in early May. What? Don't look at me like that. That scale is OFFICIAL, yo. Plus, is it wrong to want to look your best while up in stirrups?

2. Kiddie pools open June 9th. That's 53 short days from now, but who's counting? Oh, that's right. Me.

Seven Wonders of My Parenting World

The other day my manfriend asked me what the seven wonders of the world are. I said, "I have no idea. The Great Wall of China maybe? Some gardens too. Check out wikipedia, my friend."

But that got me thinking...here are the seven wonders of MY world. I'm sure there are more than seven. Feel free to hit me with suggestions.

1. I wonder how you are unable to hear me telling you to brush your teeth when I'm right in front of you, yet you can hear the Dorito bag opening from across the house.

2. I wonder why you will walk past your father seventeen times in order to find me to ask me a random question that he totally could have answered.

3. I wonder how you fit so much shit in your tiny pockets.

4. I wonder what could possibly be so enticing about your boogers that you would want to eat them.

5. I wonder why you are so opposed to wearing socks.

6. I wonder how it is physically possible for you to produce so much poop.

7. I wonder how you can be hungry ALL DAY LONG. Have you got a tape worm?

A Case of Mistaken Identity

It's almost embarassing. I mean, it happens all the time. I'll be just walking along, or standing in line at the post office and it will happen. Someone always asks!

Here's what I look like before showering and without makeup. That's actually probably a pretty fair sampling of how I look most of the time. Sorry to those I encounter on a daily basis. And to the lady who just came to my door and caught me with a carrot juice mustache.

This is me in my readers.

So, you can understand why people might come up to me and say...

"I'm thirsty." I mean, the resemblance is uncanny.

I also get told, "I'm hungry." All the time.

And at least once a day, someone comes up to me with a yogurt lid or granola bar wrapper
having mistaken me for the picture above.

And, of course, anytime I sit down I am immediately mistaken for this.

It's not a Mompetition

I started writing this post as sort of a self-congratulatory goodbye to nursing, but somewhere in the middle of applauding myself for being so sufferingly unselfless I thought that I should just get over myself. Because here's a big secret...

It's not a mompetition.

That's right. 99.9% of all mothers I've met want the absolute best for their kids. Have you ever heard a mother say, "I only want second best for little Johnny?" No. So, why do some mothers act like every single thing that they do is better than what you do?
................
Oh, you nursed for six months? That's nice. I nursed for 37 years and sent hand expressed breastmilk to starving children in tsunami swept countries.

You use soy formula? Super. I use milk from goats milked by blind virgins.

You buy generic diapers? I use organic cloth diapers that I handwash and dry by spinning in circles in my backyard.

You co-sleep? Big deal! I never sleep.

Johnny can read?!? So exciting. I remember how excited I was when Sporto turned 2 and learned to read.
................

You get the idea.

So whether you paper diaper or cloth diaper, nurse or use formula, co-sleep or let the little bastards CIO, my hat's off to you. Because everyday you're making the absolute best choice you can.

I hate your kids

Now, before you get your knickers in a knot, let me preface that by saying I don't specifically hate your kids, I love YOUR kids (unless you were seated behind me last night at the mexican restaurant and you let your little boy stand and look over the booth and repeatedly bop my son in the head and toss a pea at us, in which case, I totally hate your kid), but, I hate them in more of a general way.

I think that my children are fairly well behaved in public (note the "in public." home is an entirely different scenario usually). They sit at in their seats in restaurants, and do not wander around. They hold the door for other patrons. They do not shout or lay on the booth. Good Lord help them if throw peas.

You might be thinking, well, aren't you lucky to have little angel babies! Hellz no.
But they know that if they act like that at a restaurant or store, there will be some serious ramifications. I am not going to take them out and beat them in the parking lot, but they know that there will be some rather unenjoyable consequence waiting for them.

I have heard parents say, "Well Johnny P is only exploring his environment. Why should he be caged in a booth?" Um, because that's what people do. And he's not a free range turkey. If, as adults, we are expected to sit at the table to eat our meal, how will your child learn to do it if it's not expected of him? When does it become expected of him?

If you let Johnny P get down, then the parents next to have a more difficult time keeping Suzy Q in her seat. Then Timmy R squiggles out of his chair and is doing penny drops from the railings at BW3s. Soon there's a whole alphabet of children milling about the restaurant, and no one is able to enjoy themselves. Once, at a restaurant I was approached by a rogue child who came up and told me, "I made poopy in the potty." Well, super duper. As a parent, I know that's awesome and I bumped her knuckles and smiled, but as a parent I also wish HER parents would have kept her in her seat so I could have a dinner that didn't involve talking about poop.

I am not a bad person, nor am I mean to kids. If your kid is in front of me in line at the grocery store, I might play peek a boo with him. Or if he's spazzing out, I might offer you a tiny packet of goldfish crackers so you can appease the angry beast. But while it seems A-OK with society for me to offer you those things, you might be less pleased with other things that I do.

I correct other people's children. GASP! That's right, I do. In the situation above, where little pea-throwing Jo-Jo was making my family's dinner unpleasant, I politely asked him to sit down. And when that didn't work, I used my mommy voice and told him to "turn around and sit down." I got an ugly look from his mother, but at least we got to eat in peace. If we're at the park and some kid kicks sand, guess what? I'm going to tell the little hellion, "We don't kick sand." And, if it's my little hellion, I expect you to do the same. There was a time when kids had to be responsible for their behavior in front of ALL adults, not just their own parents.

If it takes a village to raise a child, then why can't that village tell the child to sit down and shut up?Do you correct other people's children? Would you be offended if somebody corrected your children?

I didn't have a picture of my kids behaving or misbehaving in public. So I just put this one of the baby misbehaving at home.

Oh no she didn't.

The baby really likes to help. Unfortunately, her help is...less than stellar most days.

For instance, often when I am in the kitchen and she is happily destroying the living room, she will overhear me open the dishwasher and come running. After several attempts to touch the knives and repeatedly banging the dishwasher door into my shins, I will give her a sippy cup to put in "her" cupboard (a small stand-alone bakers' table with all the baby crap in it). She will scamper off and return with several more cups from the aforementioned cupboard. I take most away and she scampers away again only to return with a JAR OF GLITTER. She clearly does clearly not understand "being helpful."

Another for instance, when I am vacuuming, she will pick up an object, like string or cookie crumb, and wait until I'm done vacuuming and then throw it on the floor. Hmmm. I'm starting to feel like she knows what she's doing.

Today, I was attempting to workout and work off those last few baby pounds. Like, those last 20 or so. Boo was supposed to be taking a nap. Instead she screamed and threw herself about until I was forced to go and get her. She played nicely for a few minutes, cruising around on her walker-come-scooting toy, until she scooted over to me, stood up and squeezed my belly fat.

Nicely played, baby.