"Boo-Boo Eye"

My 2 year old's first sentence.  Actually, 2 of the only 5 words she knows. 

And it really comes as no surprise. 

Most people don't believe me when I tell them that BOTH of my children are a walking-self-inflicted-head-injury waiting to happen.  It's true.  And I have the proof.
((The following events occurred between November 2010 and February 2011.  The photos have not been altered in any way))

Let me state for the record that I DO make sure they are actually all right before I take pictures.  But, I need to have SOME kind of documentation for later in life when I'm being carted off in a straight jacket.

This happened at school one day.  I got a call that he tripped and fell face first into a wood chair.  The exact words used by the school nurse when I went to pick him up: "It actually looks much better than it did initially.  We were worried!"

Listen lady, this is the story of my life.

This happened 2 days after the wood chair fiasco.  He was pretending to be Spiderman, and tried to jump onto an electrical box, only his feet didn't actually "stick" (as the superhero's would have).  His body kept going and his face met the concrete.

 This lovely trip to the urgent care, was caused by a fall on the sidewalk.  Just walking.  No superhero attempts being made.  Just walking.

We were on our way to a dear friends house for a Christmas-cookie-making playdate, and (of course) this happened as we were walking up to the front door.
 I banged loudly on the door, which was opened by a woman I had never met before, begged her to take my 5 year old for me and then ran to the car.
Hello panic attack.

Then, I became the crazy lady who runs screaming into the full pediatrician's office...
"head injury!!  HELP!! She's going to die!!!".
Yep.  That was me.

This was taken approximately five days after the "sidewalk incident", which just goes to show you how severe the injury was.  Although, nothing more serious became of it.
Thank you, JESUS!!
I can't even begin to tell you how many strange looks we received in public.

So, you might think this story ends here.  Oh, no.............stay tuned.

During a visit to our local library, she evidently had a run-in with a book shelf.  I'm not entirely sure what happened, since I was busy checking out books (trying to be a good influence by reading to my kids and all.  And look where it gets me). 
 After the dramatics and public humiliation of this event, let's just say we won't be back to that particular library any time soon.



Being that we had just visited the pediatrician's office after the last "head trauma scare", I knew that although she looked like a human cyclopes, it probably wasn't necessary to rush her in.  So, we went home, and I kept a close eye on her.

I did.  I swear.

You can imagine the sheer terror, when I left the room for a moment, and came back to find this........

YES.  I thought she was dead.

So............ I picked poor, sweet, sleeping baby up and shook her awake.

Never a dull moment in this house.

These are just a few of the many photos in the Days of Our Lives.  It's a miracle I don't stay curled up in a fetal position all day.

I would personally like to thank medical professionals, who remain calm in these situations; Google, for allowing a stressed out mommy to look up "signs of a concussion"; my amazing friends, who help me laugh my way through these moments; Elmo, Woody & Buzz, who kiss my babies' boo-boo's and make them feel all better; and any and all makers of wine & 'happy pills', for providing me with the vices I need in these challenging times.

This is a test of the Emergency Blog-cast System!!

First of all, I would like to thank a dear friend of mine for bringing this matter to my attention.. You know who you are (wink, wink).

I have personally birthed two children.  Both delivered in a hospital room, under the direct care of OBGYN doctors and nurses, one with a gladly-accepted and prayed for epidural, the other without any pain management what-so-ever, despite pleading, screaming and death threats. ((I have to throw that last statement in there, because I still have a mild hatred towards the incompetent nurse whose fault it was I felt as if my entire body was about to be broken in two)).  Anyway......

That ALL being said......as much as I , personally, am very PRO- pain management during childbirth, I feel that it is COMPLETELY the choice of the woman pushing a human being out of her vagina.  Whether it be a voluntary hospital birth, with or without drug intervention, done in a birthing center, in the comfort of your home, bed, bathtub, OR in your backyard with the entire neighborhood present.  That is why it is called a CHOICE.

Apparently, in the state of NORTH CAROLINA, it is ILLEGAL to have a certified mid-wife present during a home birth.  That's right.  Illegal.  You read that correctly.  Doesn't matter that it is a private, personal choice and that you would pay for this service out of your own pocket......it is ILLEGAL.
There is nothing wrong with choosing to give birth to your child at home, but you are on your own.  "Screw you", says the state of NC.
Beg your pardon government, but how in the world did women do it 100 years ago?  200 years ago? 500 years ago?  Are the history books mistaken and modern technology HAS really been around since B.C. ??

So...you might say.....'just do it anyway.  who's gonna know?'
Uncle Sam.  That's who.
A friend of a friend, who happens to be a Certified Midwife, was ARRESTED and is being PROSECUTED by the state of North Carolina.  Who's paying for this??  TAX PAYERS!!!  She's not a drug user or pusher, she didn't hit anyone while drinking & driving, she pays her taxes, doesn't rob banks or molest children, yet our tax money is going to be used to prosecute her.  W.O.W.

Please know,  I don't consider myself to be left- or right- "winged".  I'm not one who appreciates political propaganda.  I'm a woman of many opinions who doesn't like to be defined by one belief system entirely.  There are generally good and bad points to most situations in life.  However, I am outspoken, and I care GREATLY how my tax dollars are being spent.
I do believe there are many instances where medical intervention is absolutely necessary.  BOTH of my pregnancies being perfect candidates!!  I went into pre-term labor both times and had to go on intense medication to try and stop the labor.  My first born was premature anyway, and had to be induced because I lost all of my amniotic fluid.  My second born and I, almost died while I was pregnant with her.  Had it not been for hospitals, doctors and nurses, I can't even imagine what might be my reality right now.  However, NOT every pregnancy or birth has complications.  There are many that don't.

There is nothing glamorous or exciting about spreading your legs for 12 hospital staff members, while strapped to a cold, hard table with lights shining in your face, and strange people yelling at you to "PUSH!"

Yes, percoset was the light at the end of the tunnel for me, but that doesn't hold true for everyone............



This letter and press release were written by 
Russ Fawcett
Vice President
North Carolina Friends of Midwives

RALEIGH, NC – On February 19, a Certified Professional Midwife who would be licensed and regulated in neighboring states was arrested for performing the duties for which she is trained. Charged with practicing midwifery without a license, her practice is in jeopardy. Should it close, dozens of pregnant women will face a crisis of care. “Our focus is on the mothers,” says a fellow Certified Professional Midwife. “This is an unfortunate day for mothers in North Carolina.” It is also an unfortunate day for the taxpayers of North Carolina, as they face the potential for a huge bill as the case winds its way through the criminal courts.

Unlike the laws in Virginia, Tennessee, South Carolina, and Florida, North Carolina law denies childbearing women access to legally practicing Certified Professional Midwives, who are specially trained as experts in the provision of out-of-hospital maternity care. Because North Carolina does not license CPMs, they remain open to criminal prosecution for unlicensed health care practice, despite the fact that they are the primary care providers for women all across the United States who deliver their babies in private homes and freestanding birth centers.
CPMs are legally recognized in 27 states, but North Carolina is one of a handful of states that explicitly prohibit their practice. The arrest of one of the state’s most experienced and well-respected CPMs has sent shockwaves throughout the home birth community, leaving pregnant women across the state wondering if their midwife will be next.
 
“Using the police and the criminal courts to investigate and discipline health care providers is the most costly, inefficient, and ineffective form of professional regulation possible,” said Katie Prown, PhD, Campaign Manager of The Big Push for Midwives Campaign. “If this proceeds to trial the taxpayers of North Carolina are looking at hundreds of thousands—if not millions—of dollars wasted, when a simple case review is all that is indicated.”
 
Despite a groundswell of grassroots support from across the state, the North Carolina General Assembly has repeatedly declined to pass legislation to license and regulate CPMs, thanks to entrenched opposition from the North Carolina Medical Society.
 
“It is time we stop rolling over to the bullies and special interests, manage our house the right way, and let democracy and common sense prevail,” said Russ Fawcett, Vice President of the North Carolina Friends of Midwives. “In this economy we simply cannot afford to waste resources on prosecuting midwives when we have a simple, cost-effective solution at hand—enacting legislation to license and regulate CPMs, just like our neighbors have done.”
 
North Carolina Friends of Midwives is a grassroots organization of advocates dedicated to promoting, supporting, and protecting access to midwifery care in North Carolina.

Amy and Colin, about 25 minutes after he was born at home, with no medical assistance.

For more information than I can provide here...........


TO HELP AMY AND OTHER NC MIDWIVES, SIGN UP FOR NEWSLETTERS AT http://www.ncfom.org/membership.html to stay apprised of ways to help change legislation, which Russ and others have been working on for years.
Russ' facebook page is - http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1121062898
NCFOM facebook page is - http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=17009147483

In My Daughter's Eyes.......

".....In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero.
I am strong and wise, and I know no fear.
But the truth is plain to see, she was sent to rescue me,
I see who I want be, in my daughter's eyes....."

It is so hard to believe that you are TWO years old today.

I remember the TWO years I prayed for another baby to bless our family.  Twenty-four months of disappointment and loss of hope.  Feeling as if something was missing from our lives.  All along, it was you.

I remember the day I found out you were coming.  June 28th, 2008.  The same day we arrived in our new home state.  After a weeks drive across the country.  Leaving the only home we knew, to start all over and give our family a better life. 

Almost four months after I kissed my own mother goodbye, for the last time.

Yes, God knew what he was doing.  Waiting to bless us with you.  He knew we both needed an extra special guardian angel watching over us.  Some days, I'm not sure if it is more for your protection, or mine.  Some days, I know she's watching over both of us.  Laughing at the similarities she must see. 

".....In my daughter's eyes, everyone is equal, Darkness turns to light,
And the world is at peace. This miracle God gave to me,
gives me strength when I am weak.
I find reason to believe, in my daughter's eyes......."

I remember how sick I was during my pregnancy with you.  How you tried to make your entrance into this world 8 weeks too early.  Causing both of us to end up in the hospital.  Praying to God to get us through.  I remember having a severe reaction to the medicine they were giving me, going into early cardiac arrest, feeling the world around me go black, and in my mind thinking over and over ....................."don't let her die.  don't let her die.  take me.  but, don't let her die".

As if a dramatic entrance wasn't enough for you, you continued your reign through your first year of life.  Causing several visits to the doctor & hospital.  911 calls.  Anesthetic procedures, special medications, an abundance of medical bills.....all to find out you have a rare auto-immune disorder.  Of course.  That is just your style.  Just like a little, pink diamond............ rare and expensive.

"....And when she wraps her hand around my finger, Oh, it puts a smile in my heart.
Everything becomes a little clearer. I realize what life is all about.
It's hangin' on when your heart has had enough; 

It's givin' more when you feel like givin' up.
I've seen the light. It's in my daughter's eyes....."

You never let us forget your presence.  Never let us forget how brightly you shine.  Your laugh is infectious and magical.  You have the power to bring a smile to everyone who looks into your beautiful blue eyes.

I hope you never lose your spark.  Your tenacity.  Your sense of humor.  

I hope you never forget just how special and loved you are.  How much you were wanted and prayed for.

Happy 2nd Birthday to the little girl who keeps me on my toes.  Makes me cry.  Makes me laugh.  Makes me want to scream.  Brings me such joy.  Melts my heart.
Daily.  

Life with you will never be boring, that is for certain.

And I can't imagine my world without you in it.

"In my daughter's eyes, I can see the future.
A reflection of who I am,
And what will be.
And though she'll grow and, some day, leave:
Maybe raise a family,
When I'm gone, I hope you'll see,
How happy she made me,
For I'll be there, in my daughter's eyes"

Just for the L-O-L of it!!!

....cause, let's be REAL....How often do you feel like you might just pee your pants from laughing??  Okay, maybe that's a little more frequent these days, since pushing human beings out of our bodies has caused lack of bladder control, but still......

Kevin Hart is one of my FAVORITE comedians (beside Dane Cook, who lets face it, is not only funny, but incredibly sexy), and I think he hits the nail on the head with his 'bits' about his kids.  I laugh every single time!


I would like to preface this by saying:  I LOVE my children.  Worship them.  However, most days I feel like a conductor on the crazy train.  Destination: nowhere.  It's nice to feel like I'm not alone.

ENJOY!.................

** DISCLAIMER: video contains ADULT language.  If you're anti-profanity, this isn't for you**

My little Casanova

(names have been condensed to initials to protect the innocent.....or at least, the minors, in this story)

Today, I placed myself in a small cage with a large number of  wild, rabid monkeys..........and by this I mean, I went to my 5 year old son's elementary school, and had lunch with him in the cafeteria.  You get the idea.

So, when a parent comes to eat lunch with their child in the jungle (ie. cafeteria), there is a special table dedicated just for them and their child, right smack dab in the middle of the room.  The child is allowed to pick one friend from his/her class to join them at the table.

My 24 month old daughter and I wait outside the cafeteria for my son's classroom to arrive - she is coincidentally wearing her  Monkey 'leash'.   This induces mass hysterics by everyone who passes us.

We see my son arrive, and all exchange greetings as we enter the doors to the cafeteria.  I recognize most of his classmates, and they all love to dote on my daughter. 
One of the little girls in C's class (we'll call her 'O') says in THE sweetest, most heart-melting voice... 
 "C, can I sit with you?"

My testosterone-filled-soon-to-be-typical-male son says back:  
"No.  I want S to sit with me".   

HEART BREAKER!  

I wanted to grab this little girl in my arms and give her a hug.  And then I actually wanted to fight my own child.  I immediately re-live every time my heart was broken by a boy, every time I felt rejection.  In my, clearly demented mind, I turn into Sally Field in "Norma Rae", jump on one of the tables, and give all those hooligan boys a lecture on how to treat girls!!

However, difficult as it was, I refrained.  My son chose his friend, S, to sit with us.......and then completely ignored me for the next 30 minutes.  But, I digress.........


Five minutes into the meal, a group of 4 girls (I'm guessing 3rd graders) walk over to our table and say to my son:
          "hhiiiii, C".......... and walk away.  Giggling.

Me:  "who are they??"


C:  "oh, just some girls that like me"


Me: "kid, you're 5!!  how old are they??"


C: "I don't know"


All of a sudden, he's Justin Bieber??

My sweet little first-born baby boy, who just lost his first tooth, is going to turn into a pre-pubescent boy with raging hormones before I know it!!!!  I'm not stable enough for this.  I guess I just never imagined him becoming an actual human being.  Capable of feelings.  Capable of hurting others feelings.

Once again, my mind is back on sweet O, and the sting of rejection.........and, YES, I'm seeing all of this through a 5 year old's eyes.  I know.  I'm crazy.

After our meal concluded, I said to my son:

"I'm coming back tomorrow,  and we're asking O to sit with us".


I might even bring her a cookie.  Or a present.

If I had my child to raise over again

I'd build self-esteem first and the house later

I'd finger paint more and point the finger less

I would do less correcting and more connecting

I'd take my eyes off my watch and watch with my eyes

I would care to know less and know to care more

I'd take more hikes and fly more kites

I'd stop playing serious and seriously play

I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars

I'd do more hugging and less tugging

I'd see the oak tree in the acorn more often

I would be firm less often and affirm much more

I'd model less about the love of power

And more about the power of love.

Diane Loomans



From '100 Ways to Build Self-Esteem & Teach Values' by Diana Loomans (c) 2004 New World Library

It's OFFICIAL....

I am......a Tooth Fairy. It's a monumental step, but also an emotional one. My baby is growing up ......and I am getting old.

When I was a kid, the going rate for a tooth was 50 cents. These days, according to my 5 year old, the Tooth Fairy leaves Star Wars toys. Who knew the tooth fairy got a raise?? I tried to explain to him that Santa is the one who leaves toys, the Easter Bunny leaves chocolate, and the Tooth Fairy leaves money. His response: "what am I supposed to do with money?" Trust me kid, that is the LAST question you will be asking when you get older.

(Apparently, we are failing, as parents, to teach him the value of a dollar. This will be our next project)

It's moments like these that make me cherish the time I have with my children while they are young. While they still get excited about these silly, precious moments. The fact that they still need me to guide them & nurture them (and help them wash their bloody tooth off so the tooth fairy "doesn't get grossed out"). I am excited for their future, but also mourn the loss of what will never be again. The "firsts" that can never be redone. It's moments like these that make me wonder if I want to have another baby, just because all these milestones absolutely melt my heart.

Then, I think about the hysterics of my 2 year old this morning while I was trying to get her dressed. The tears I shed because all I wanted to do was get out of the house on time. The sucker punch to the throat I received while trying to change her diaper. The note sent home from school yesterday because my 5 year old just can't seem to pay attention in music class. The 8 times I had to scream at my children to get out of the kitchen while I was trying to cook dinner. The vacuum cleaner that died yesterday because it gets used too often (and the 2yo carpet still needs to be replaced). The piles of laundry that never seem to get done......or folded.....or put away. My house which is never clean.....or organized. The Valentine's Day dinner I made for my husband that was eaten standing at the counter, while our toddler tried, frantically, to rock climb both of us. The date nights we never seem to get, the "alone" time that we spend in a semi-comatose state on the couch.

Oh yes, these days are precious, and fleeting. And I want to remember them. Always. However, right now I am focusing my sights on that light at the end of the tunnel. It is flickering. Like some kind of dim nightlight. I'm waiting for it to become more of a homing beacon.

The Hunger Games

I don't know how many of you have read this Trilogy of books, but rumor tells me, they are quite popular. I actually jumped on the bandwagon after seeing several of my friends' reviews on Facebook. However, today's post isn't my own personal review of this book series (although I loved them!). It's more of an analysis of how the book compares to my own life......kill, or be killed.

So, in the book, there are "contestants" (ie. mothers), who are placed in a man-made arena (ie. life) and forced to either "survive", or be killed (ie. raise children). Case in point....

I'm trying to get myself and both kids ready and out the door by 8:45AM. I'm feeling pretty good about how things are progressing. We're down to the wire at 8:30AM. I decide it's a good time for a potty break. My mistake is, thinking I can do this uninterupted. Ha!

Small toddler comes into the bathroom, pushes the stool up to the pedastal sink, and begins jumping up and down, inevitably hitting her chin on the procelain. Fabulous.

Screaming commences. Five year old decides to enter room, where I then begin to yell about privacy protocal, and he exits the room in tears. Now I'm the worst mom ever. I just wanted... to... go... to... the... bathroom

Once everyone has calmed down, injuries are assessed, and nothing seems emergency room worthy. I attempt to put shoes and jacket on 5 year old (he generally resists this procedure), then turn to find toddler has stripped completely naked. It is now 8:45AM. Crap.

I now proceed to get toddler RE-dressed, which turns out be very similar to a UFC cagefight, causing 5 year old to fall over in hysterics. I'm not amused.

Ten minutes later, everyone is once again dressed, shoes and jackets on, diaper bag & purse are in one arm, keys in hand......we are out the door. It is close to 9:00AM. I get everyone buckled into their seat, start the car, get the heat going, and pull out of the driveway. We're a little behind schedule, but I still feel confident we can make up the time.

Two minutes into the drive......

"Mom. Did you bring my backpack??"

"WHY would I have your backpack?? That is your ONE responsibility in the morning, to make sure you have your backpack!"

Back to the house we go.

Long story short, I once again pull into the school parking lot, barely shy of 9:15AM, when school actually starts. One of these days, we will make it there before 9:00AM! With barely 4 months left of school, I am convinced we will make this will happen.

I could go into the events at the end of the school day, 3:45pm, when I pick up my son (by foot), and both children chase each other home, roll around in the mud, push each other into bushes, eat strange looking berries, and then scream through the neighborhood because it's fun to hear their own echoes......but, you get the idea.

It's survival of the fittest around here. I'm just missing my bow and arrow.

We're doomed

Do you have friends (or acquaintances) that you feel have "prodigal" children?? You know the ones I'm talking about....."oh, my 4 year old just learned to tie his shoes, drive a car, and cook us a 5-course meal, all in the same week!!" Meanwhile, I feel like SuperMOM if neither kid has swallowed a button or given themselves a new concussion over the course of a week. Their kids are reading Thoreau and e.e. cummings by the time they are 6, and my kids learned their ABC's from watching too much Sesame Street.

I strongly feel that Parents magazine does to a mom's ego, what the Victoria's Secret catalog does to a women's body image. I can't afford to buy my kids the 'top-rated' educational toys, or feed them the 'recommended' name brand snacks (never mind the fact that they won't touch anything with whole wheat or the color green in it), they DO watch more than 30 minutes of television a week, and I certainly have NO intention of taking my toddler's pacifier away by the time she is 2. And I refuse to believe they will need any more psycho-therapy (than their DNA has already pre-destined them for) because of these things.

I also, recently, happened to read an article I saw reference to on another blog I follow (CafeMom). Apparently, there was a study done in New Zealand on toddlers (see link below) that indicates which ones could turn out to be future criminals. So, now I've glued myself to this article to see if we should stop singing the Wiggles, and start singing Jailhouse Rock!

It states, if you have a child under 3 who elicits bad behavior, such as "low frustration tolerance, lacks persistence in reaching goals, difficulty sticking with a task, overactive, acts before thinking, has difficulty waiting turn, restless, not conscientious".....they are destined to be the next Charles Manson!!

So, not only are my children inadequate in comparison to the little Einsteins of the world, they are also poorly fed, not educated enough by their toys, and are at high risk for doing hard time.

Lord have mercy..... I'm gonna need some more wine and a good psychiatrist!

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/science/science-news/8278932/Future-criminals-could-be-identified-as-toddlers.html

My (somewhat selfish) rant

I used to be thin. And lean. And a size 6. I used to love going to the gym. I never had a second thought about walking around in a bathing suit. I used to wear underwear that could never be categorized as "granny panties".

These days, I'm strongly concerned about the kangaroo pouch that has formed at my waistline, and the overwhelming gravitational pull of my behind down to my knees. I have no idea how things got so *jiggly* (as my 5 year old so lovingly puts it). And, although I am a huge connoisseur of cheese, I don't particularly care for it on my thighs. I look in the mirror, and don't recognize the person looking back at me. I find myself sending subliminal death threats to women I see (especially those with infants) who look like they fit back into their pre-prego clothes 5 minutes after giving birth.

If I hear one more comment like "but you have 2 beautiful children, and that's all that matters" or "but you're so pretty", I swear I will start punching people in the face. And my all time favorite from *skinny* moms: "I'm so busy chasing my kids around, I don't have time to eat". As if I'm not running around after my own 2 maniacal offspring ALL day long. Trust me, if that's how easily my metabolism worked, I'd be practically invisible at this point! And I don't know if I can take another Facebook post about how someone fit back into their pre-prego jeans and it took 2 whole months!! Are you people for real? My "baby" is almost TWO, and I'm not even sure I'm back to my pre-prego weight because my scale met an *untimely* and unfortunate death on the driveway.

I don't do the "D" word, because I like to eat too much. I try "moderation" and portion control, but realistically, to even get a meal these days requires me to inhale it as fast as possible, like some sort of rabid animal. And forget cooking. Period. If it requires more than boiling a pot of water, then it's going to suck way too much time and energy out of my life.

Why can't losing weight be as peaceful as it is to climb into a hot bubble bath with a glass of wine & a good book?? Or for that matter, why can't I enjoy it as much as I do eating?? Isn't knowing what the end result would be, good enough to force me into spending hours at a gym?? And why is it, that on the days I'm FULL of motivation & determination to get outside and go for a long walk or hike, one of my children will, inevitably, start projectile vomiting, or there will be an unexpected, colossal downpour??

I feel as if I am doomed to be trapped in this unrecognizable body for the rest of my life. Somebody please tell me there is hope!! Or, at least a *magic skinny pill* that is being developed?!

I need a Priest!!!!!

I used to say to myself, and to others, that I will never have another child because I can't go through the *newborn phase* ever again. At this moment, I would like to adjust that statement and say - I will never have another child again because I don't think I will survive the Terrible-Two's one more time!!!!! Sweet Jesus, this child needs an exorcism!! Now I know why she is so dang cute, 'cause I would have dropped her off at the fire station a long time ago.

**(note: author does not condone abandoning your children! But, considers talking about abandoning them therapeutic, and therefore, allowed)**

Today's adventure included a morning trip to the grocery store to restock the depleted supply of food in our house. We made it through exactly TWO aisles before the ugly Terrible-Two monster sprouted it's head on my toddler. Conveniently, the 2 aisles we were able to browse, were the wine & beer section, so tonight's dinner for mommy is covered. But, I digress.....

So, there I was, frazzled, screaming toddler shackled into the shopping cart, purchasing a large case of beer and several bottles of wine.......only. In my defense, before somebody goes calling CPS on me, it is Superbowl Sunday this weekend, and we are expecting guests.

I see a few other moms in the vicinity, and oddly, their children actually resemble human beings. So, what am I doing wrong? Now I'm feeling frazzled AND inferior. Is everyone looking at me like I'm a terrible mother?? Am I to blame for the lunacy that is happening in my life right now?? In reality, I can't see how anyone would be in a position to judge me, especially when most adults have probably experienced some type of public humiliation before. But, it's still hard to not feel like there are adjudicating eyes piercing through my soul, at this particular moment. I could not exit the store soon enough.

Then, I remind myself that I actually have a few girl friends who have multiples. My heart immediately goes out to them!!! If I could afford to take us all on a week long girls' retreat, ladies, I would! There is not enough wine, or a strong enough sedative, in the free world for me to be able to handle more than one 2 year old at a time.

Right now, I can honestly say I am thankful for pacifiers and happy hour (which can not get here soon enough!) In fact, mommy may need a pacifier in order to survive this next year.

Max & Ruby....really?!?

Why can't real-life be more like an episode of Max & Ruby?? I mean, c'mon, where are their parents exactly?? And why is Ruby the one getting up all night long when Max can't sleep, or when he wets the bed?? You never see them trying to kill each other, or throw each other down the stairs, or pull on each others ears......They work out their differences amicably. There's no crying, whining, arguing, yelling, name calling.....'Grandma' doesn't have to take any kind of sedative to deal with them.

My theory is that mom & dad have gone on a permanent stay-cation. Or, perhaps, they are living out my own personal fantasy and have changed their names, moved to Bermuda and live a life of continual Happy Hour.

"your parents faked their way through it.....you fake your way through it.....and hopefully, you don't raise a serial killer"

Does anyone else have the strange feeling that these people are actually long lost, blood relatives??

Serenity now!!!!

You know it's going to be a bad day when you want to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers before it's even 9am.

My day begins with a 5 year old who would rather torment is sister than get ready for school. A 2 year old who is so cranky and defiant I am ready to lock myself in a white padded cell. As I frantically try to get both children out the door and into the car, said 5 year old reminds me that it is "crazy hat day" at school. So, we all shuffle back into the house and search hi and low for a crazy hat (five year has minor panic attack when I suggest he wear one of his sister's pink beanies). We finally discover part of an old Halloween costume, that barely fits his head, but will serve the purpose.

Once eldest child is safely dropped off at school, I return home to realize 2 year old is actually quite warm (which may explain her crankiness). I proceed to take her temperature and get kicked violently in the jugular. However, a fever of 102 is discovered, and I now feel like I can control the situation by giving her some Ibuprofen. Although, this totally throws all my plans for the day out the window, and I had actually gotten myself up early to get showered & dressed. I am now perturbed that I have wasted makeup, hairspray, energy and coveted sleep time.

I place 2 year old in front of "The Princess and the Frog" and decide if I'm going to be stuck in the house all day with a sick toddler, I can at least be a good wife and do my husband's laundry. Halfway down the stairs, full laundry basket in hand, my feet give out from underneath me, catapulting me into the air, as well as the laundry basket (now broken) and all of the clothes. But, instead of landing on my "well padded" backside, I land right on the back of my head. Immediately my jaw is numb and my eyes are watering from the pain (please refer to earlier post about hereditary clumsiness).

The best part of this story, is that after seeing me fall, my 2 year old comes over to the stairs, sits down next to me (where I am cradling my head in my hands), uses her sweet, angelic little voice to see if I am all right...."aaawwww, mommy, awwww". She puts her small arms around me and gives me a hug, and then.......smacks the back of my head. Twice.

I'm sorry, I don't speak 'Ewok'.

What is more frustrating than trying to communicate with a 2 year old?.....Trying to communicate with a 2 year old that doesn't communicate. That's right. You heard me. My *almost* 2 year old, darling, angelic daughter...does not talk. At least, coherently. There's a lot of babble, and I'm quite certain she knows exactly what she is saying in her own head. For instance, she's throwing around a new word these days "BOP!", which I have deciphered to mean "'BLEEP' you!" She says it with such fierceness and tenacity in her voice, I'm almost afraid for when she does start enunciating actual words.

She looks incredibly innocent and sweet, batting her big baby blues and long eyelashes at people. But those of us who live with her, know the truth. My 5 year old son and I have deemed her language that of the "Ewoks", since that's exactly what she sounds like. It's fun to laugh at her cuteness and all, but ULTRA-frazzling to spend a 12 hour day with her trying to deduce what it is she saying, wanting, needing. I have attempted to teach her baby sign language in hopes of reducing frustration on both our parts. Sometimes this is effective, others, not so much. Her patience level goes from 0 to 60 in less than 2.5 seconds, and the sign language technique does NOT work when she is tired, teething, sick, frustrated, etc.

I've only just begun to hear the words 'mommy' and 'daddy', and even these are not gender specific for her. I am sometimes 'daddy', my husband is sometimes 'mommy', and any woman she sees in person, or in print, is 'mommy'. Glad to know I am appreciated and recognizable.

So, what is the remedy, you ask? Well, we have speech therapy once a week (which she only occasionally chooses to cooperate with). Mommy keeps the wine and bubble bath industry in business. The appearance of "BOP!" in her vocabulary started just recently, so I'm quite certain it's her way of telling me off. She seems very content with keeping us all frustrated. I may have the only child who goes off to school speaking Ewok.

Listen....do you hear that??

The definition of "silence": a) absence of any sound or noise; stillness. b) the state or fact of being silent; muteness.

Does anyone know Mr. Webster personally?? If so, I would like to make an addendum to this definition. I feel this would be an IMPORTANT public service announcement to any and all women out there, considering motherhood. I will do this free of charge, and with no requirement for recognition...

Addendum. "silence": a) stillness, or muteness, that you will feel the absence of, the moment you decide to push a human being out of your vagina. b) something you will desperately crave just five minutes of for the first eighteen (or more) years of your child's existence. c) stillness, or muteness that will induce fear and moments of paranoia and anxiety, when your children are in another room.