Wednesday, August 31, 2011

A shout out to my readers!

I went to an event this evening for an organization Mr. Yoy is very active in.

Many people approached me to say that they very much enjoyed reading the Mrs. Yoy Blog.  People I didn't even know were reading it.

I have to say, this really made my day.  I write day in and day out, but I never know if people are:

1) actually reading it and

2) find it to be humorous (my intention).

So, I just wanted to say thank you to my readers for their kind words and support.

Good night, Yoysers!

P.S. Check back tomorrow.  I am taking both Yoys to the Botanical Gardens with our neighbor and her two small children.  It should be an absolute bloodbath.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Is it too early to discuss Halloween costumes?

I just received a Costume Express catalog in the mail.

I have two main comments.

1)  These things are flippin' expensive.  Forty-five dollars for a three-year-old's costume?  Seriously?  Maybe a good pair of shoes, but a costume that he'll wear for four hours once?  I'm having a hard time climbing aboard that ship.

2) Why are all the little girl models in their pirate/witch/ladybug costumes wearing a ton of makeup and posing provocatively?  I've heard people talking about how young girls are being pressured to act and dress older, but this is making me ill.

Obviously, I'll consult with Big E about his choice for a costume this year, as he'll be nearing three and has many opinions, but it's looking like he'll be a ghost.

A sheet and some scissors - the greatest and least expensive costume ever.
Trick or treat!

Monday, August 29, 2011

The Artwork Guilt

Big E started preschool last August.  In the year that he has been attending, I have compiled quite a collection of his "artwork".

I have only limited closet space in our house, thanks to the 10,000 Madame Alexander dolls my parents personally drove up when we moved in.  As luck would have it, I have two sons.  And on a side note, these dolls are big-time scary.  I had them displayed in my room as a child and sometimes at night, I swore they were moving.

Anyway, I digress.  I've been keeping all of Big E's artwork in the playroom closet, but at some point, I am going to run out of space.

When Big E proudly shows me his piece of white paper with two crayon marks on it, I praise him as a wonderful artist, and put in the closet.  I mean, how can I throw this away?  He seems so proud of himself.

I need to draw the line, pun intended.  If I don't pare down his works, I'm going to have 18 years worth of this stuff taking over our house, one closet at a time.

I perused his works last night.  There are definitely some pieces that aren't gallery-worthy.  I started pulling them out, but then my mother's guilt flushed through my system.

It was like I was throwing out part of Big E.

So I quickly returned it all to the closet.

Maybe I'll have the strength to do the purge another day. Probably a day when he is behaving horribly and I can symbolically throw out his artwork, while secretly wishing it was him.
This may or may not make the cut.

Friday, August 26, 2011

The Second Child Syndrome

There is no medical definition for this syndrome. Although, it is a distant cousin to Most Dangerous Occupation.

Glaring examples of "SCS" (as I'm now calling it) are as follows:

1) By the time Big E turned one I had all but completed the most beautiful scrapbook detailing every event of his first year on Earth.  I spent countless Sundays scrapbooking away.  I pull this book out every few weeks to admire my craftsmanship.  I love it almost as much as I love him.  Some days maybe even more.  See The Life Cycle of an Epic Temper Tantrum.

For Little E, I haven't even bought the scrapbook.  I keep saying I'm going to start, but it hasn't happened.  I am partially blaming Aunt Yoy as she hasn't started her scrapbook for Cousin Yoy either and we are scrapbooking partners in crime.  I just hope Little E doesn't grow up flipping through the pages of Big E's scrapbook and wistfully wonder what he did to make his mom not want to record all of his first milestones in such a wonderful way.

By the way, if Little E needs an answer to this question, I've got one for him.  C-SECTION.

2) I took Little E in for his one year doctor's appointment. Dr. Yoy rattled off all of these milestones.

Is he pointing?  Is he waving?  Is he babbling?  Is he grasping things?

I had one horrible answer to all of these questions.  I'm not really sure?  I think so?

I'm so busy keeping Big E in line, that sometimes, sweet Little E doesn't quite get the attention he deserves.

I then pull out my list of seven questions for Dr. Yoy.  Five of them were about Big E.  YIKES.

3) Little E and Big E share a playroom.  Therefore, they share toys, books, and whatever else ends up in there. Big E's toys can be inappropriate and sometimes dangerous for Little E.  I am forever pulling random objects out of his mouth.  Stickers, tires, a doll head.  It is such a tricky situation, but I can't take away Big E's toys. I just have to...wait for attention!

Wait, what's that you hear?  That's the sound of guilt pumping through my veins.
No, it's cool.  Precariously balance yourself on this nasty suitcase that Mr. Yoy just pulled out from a five year stint in the attic.

Ma'am, I've never seen that happen...


A little background story.  Mr. Yoy and I are not "do-ers." Especially now that we have the Yoys.  I know this is incredibly shocking, especially because we are Jewish.

We have on payroll a lawn guy (even though our lawn is like .001 acres), a cleaning lady, an exterminator, an electrician, a painter, and a plumber.

We also have a great guy that installed all of the cabinet locks, baby gates, blind cleats, wall anchors, and every other baby proofing item you can think of. It was pricey, but well worth the money.  If anything breaks, he comes right out to fix it at no additional charge to us.  It's been almost two years since he installed everything and we've had him out a few times to undo some damage.

Today it was the safety gate at the top of the stairs. After a few years of Big E shaking it like a gorilla at the zoo, he finally pulled the whole dang thing out of the wall.

Mr. Fix-it came over this afternoon and I led him up to the gate.  He was astounded at the sight of the pathetic gate hanging onto the wall by a screw and that's when he said the famous line -

Ma'am, I've never seen that happen!

I responded with You've never had a Big E!

Of course, Big E was there to "manage" the project.


I offered up a bribe to get Big E back downstairs and let the nice man work in peace.

Anyway, all is fixed.  He really rigged it up, so hopefully things will forever stay put.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Mrs. Yoy: Puzzlemaster

Big E's latest book is Cars-themed and has five mini-puzzles within the book.  It is a combo of all of his favorite things.  I gave it to him this afternoon because he was being a sweet boy.

A weird thing happened.

We completed the five puzzles. And when I say "we" I mean me.  For whatever reason, Big E likes to direct activities, not actually participate in them. He asked me to do them again.  I obliged, as he was sitting quietly and that rarely happens anymore.

By round three I had hit my Cars puzzle limit.  I explained to him that I didn't want to play with the book anymore, but he was welcome to do the puzzles on his own.

This was not a satisfactory explanation.

He started shouting: DO MORE PUZZLES!  DO MORE PUZZLES!  DO IT!  DO IT!

To be honest, he kind of scared me.  Where did he learn to channel John McEnroe?

So I did what any mother would do.  I did the dang puzzles!

While I'm puzzling away he keeps sternly reminding me to do the puzzles.  Over and over again.

This is what it must be like to be a child laborer in a Nike sweatshop.  My shaking hands are fumbling to put together the picture of Lightning McQueen.

He ran in the other room to grab his water and I took this as my opportunity to escape my puzzling destiny.

I hid the book.  He returned and I played dumb, which is not hard for me to do at all.

Mrs. Yoy 2, Big E 0 (not like I'm keeping score or anything...)
Do the dang puzzles!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Make Way for Ducklings

Mr. Yoy picked up this children's classic on his trip to Boston a few years back.

This is a favorite bedtime book for Big E.  I think mostly because it is lengthy and he has cornered the market on bed time procrastination.

Tonight, as I read the book to Big E, I found myself getting angry.

The Daddy Duck decides to go on vacation for a week, by himself I might add, like two weeks after the Mommy Duck hatches eight ducklings.  And she is just fine with it. She says some BS to Daddy Duck like:

Don't worry about the kids, I know all about bringing up ducklings.

On what planet would any mother find this acceptable? What kind of message am I conveying to my children as I read this book to them day in and day out?

After I cooled down, I checked the copyright year - 1941. Well that explains it, I guess.  Even in the 1940s, I think my grandma would not have been super jazzed if my Grandpa went on vacation and left her with the four babies.

My next thought was, Mr. Yoy BOUGHT this book for Big E. Maybe he is trying to tell me something?!  I find myself getting angry at him.  In reality, he probably just bought this book because it has such a rich Boston history and he always brings Big E a book related to his travels.

Dial it down, Mrs. Yoy.  You are having a rough couple of days.  There is no hidden meaning in this book.

In any case, I have decided to add a new ending to this book.  Instead of the Mommy Duck being kosher with everything,  she is going to plan a spa day at the most exclusive place in town once Daddy Duck returns from his so-called vacation.  Then she is going to leave his ass with the eight ducklings all day and see how he likes it.

I feel so much better already.

Good night, readers!
Or should it be called - Motherducker?

My breath is bad!

These were Big E's first words out of his mouth this morning.

And you know what?  His breath was bad.  How does a two year old develop such raging morning breath?

Anyway, I feel like this was a major step in the perpetual little boy hygiene war.  I quickly explained that by brushing his teeth, his bad breath would go away.

Wow, I just sounded like a commercial.

He bought right into that.  Probably because he couldn't stand the taste in his mouth any longer.  Post brush, he ran into our bedroom to let Mr. Yoy smell his clean breath.  In return, Mr. Yoy blew his morning dragon breath right into Big E's face.

I guess that was payback for yesterday's monstrous behavior.
Take that, Big E!

Monday, August 22, 2011

Motorcycle Drivers: #1 on Mrs. Yoy's Hitlist

For the most part, these guys drive like total crap.  So when I'm driving the Yoys around, they are practically begging me to run them over.  They weave like a bunch of Persian rug makers and continually cut me off.  I've already discussed this earlier in My Inner Rage, but I'm in a particularly bad mood this evening, so I have some additional thoughts on the subject.

A few of my neighbors are motorcycle enthusiasts.  I do not know much about them, but I can with absolute certainty tell you what they are not.  Parents.

I have spent the past hour trying to get Big E to settle down.  He has been singing on and off and occasionally crying for me.  Finally, and I mean finally, he quieted down.

Then one of my "neighbors" (I put this in quotes because I don't consider their behavior very neighborly at all), just revved his stupid bike the entire way up my street.  I'm pretty sure my folks in Florida even heard it.

But you already know who definitely heard it, Big E.  He just started back up again.

I've had a long day with him and I really just need him to fall asleep so I can relax.

On a side note, about 95% of the houses in my neighborhood have small children.  I'm not being overly sensitive here.  There are many other mommies in my 'hood who feel my pain.

I think we should band together and throw rocks and sticks at these guys the next time they drive by like they are filming a scene for the Fast and the Furious.

Why should they have all the fun?
I just ordered my new shirt!

The Life Cycle of an Epic Temper Tantrum

As I have mentioned earlier, I am tinkering with Big E's schedule.  Yesterday, he did not nap, he stayed out late, and spent some time in the pool.  This was the perfect storm for today's daily epic temper tantrum.

He slept in this morning and we had to rush to make it out the door on time for school.  This was the warning shot.

I picked him up from school.  He was his usual sweaty, covered in food, stickers, and body stamps self. He wanted to go see Mr. Yoy and the fountains at his office.

Mr. Yoy wasn't around but we decided to meet up for some fro-yo post nap.  Yes, Big E was definitely getting a nap today. He had that crazy tired look in his eyes.

We pulled into the garage.  And there it began.

Rising Action:
He would not get out of the car.  It was only when I closed the door to the car, turned out the garage lights, and went inside the house for a minute, that he decided to come out of the car.

Next up, the bath.  I told him he needed a bath before his nap. This, apparently, was not on his agenda.  I already knew my game plan.  I headed upstairs with Little E, locked the gate behind us (this is key) and began playing on the floor.  Big E was up the stairs in two seconds flat. This kid doesn't want to miss anything.

Once I had him upstairs, I had to chase him around ripping off articles of clothing.  Shoes, socks, shorts, shirt, and finally diaper.  He was screaming, NO BATH, NO BATH!

UGH, why can nothing be easy?

I drew the bath and picked him up to carry him in there. WALK!  WALK!  He wanted to walk to the bath, of course, since he had shown such willingness to cooperate moments earlier.  Too bad, Big E.  I put him in the tub.

He wasn't going to give up this battle so easy.

He refused to sit.

He didn't want to use soap.

He wanted to use soap.

He didn't want to brush his teeth.

He wanted to brush his teeth.

He wanted to stay and play.

I wanted to fire my imaginary gun through my skull.  At this point, I'm hanging by a thread.  Tears are welling up in my eyes.  Please stop.  Please.

He takes a break from screaming and crying to say hi to Little E when he crawls in to see what in Hades is going on in the bathroom.  It was in such a sweet voice, too, which really threw me for a loop when he quickly reverted back to Satan.

I pulled up the plug on the tub and he tried to close it.  He was hysterical and laying down in the waterless tub.

I wrapped his writhing body up in a towel and took him to his room.

Next up dressing and diapering.  I already knew this was going to be a sequel to bath time.  He was lashing around on his changing table and crying for Mr. Yoy and his towel.

Finally, I put him in his crib.  At least now he was contained.  He bounced right up and started jumping and barking orders through a haze of tears and snot.

Tuck me in!

Line up my animals!

I need my pillow!

I cranked the sound machine and ran out of there.

And then, almost immediately, silence.  It was like he dropped dead from exhaustion.

Falling Action:
He's asleep now and I'm sure when he awakes he'll be sweet as sugar and want to be best friends again.

I know that he was beyond tired and that partially explains his behavior.  But he is also two.  And hell bent on disagreeing with me about everything.

I want to lock my bedroom door, crawl into bed, and drink many glasses of wine.  Instead, I'll use the five plot stages and blog about it.
I'm praying for strength to make it through the two's and beyond.  And maybe a few encouraging words to let me know I'm not alone.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Silence of the Yoys

Mr. Yoy and hit the town tonight.  We went to a cornucopia of places and had a few adult beverages.  It was really great to get out and be a couple for the evening, instead of Yoy parents.

We arrived home to our babysitter and a quiet household. Perfect!  The sitter went home and Mr. Yoy and I headed upstairs for the night.

I noticed that Big E's blankie was on the floor next to my computer.  Red alert!  This kid is OBSESSED with his blankie.  We have to go and visit it in the laundry room when I wash and dry it.  It is that bad.

Mr. Yoy and I discussed our strategy and planned our next move.  We decided to sneak into Big E's room and place blankie in his crib.  If he reached for it overnight and it wasn't there, it would be armageddon.  That's a risk we were not willing to take.

This is not the first time I have encountered this dilemma.  See The Sound Machine.

As we tiptoed over to the Yoys' rooms we realized while the sound machines were on, they were on very low.  We decided to go into both rooms and crank them.

Mr. Yoy crept into Little E's room.  I noticed the fan was not on and his room gets very stuffy.  I flipped the switch. Whoops!  That was the light, not the fan.  I quickly corrected my mistake but not before I got a death look from Mr. Yoy and then subsequently heard Little E stirring.  Of course, Little E's sound machine shorted out while Mr. Yoy was attempting to turn up the volume. This was turning into a comedy of errors.

We ran out of Little E's room and composed ourselves. Even if Little E had woken up, we were convinced he would go right back to sleep because he is our good sleeper.

We had bigger fish to fry.  Big E.  Mr. Yoy opened Big E's bedroom door.

Hello Mr. Yoy (in this case he actually used Mr. Yoy's first name).  He was standing in his crib staring at us.  His voice was so calm and monotonous.

I stifled a shriek and ran down the hall.  Seriously, this kid just scared the beeswax out of me!  Why is he just standing there at 10:30 at night?  How weird is he?  I had flashbacks to Silence of the Lambs.  Oh my gosh, is this kid going to eat our faces off after we go to sleep?

Mr. Yoy was much cooler.  He gave Big E his blanket and told him that it would help him sleep, turned up his sound machine, closed the blinds, and walked out.

I had thrown myself onto the couch in a fit of giggles. The two drinks I had ingested at Prohibition were not helping my parenting skills.

And now I'm pretty sure I'm going to have Anthony Hopkins-filled dreams all night.  Thanks Big E.
Seriously, this is what Big E looked like.  

Sushi Monster

Mr. Yoy and I are raising a sushi monster.  Big E loves it.  He'll eat all of my dinner if I'm not careful.

Friday nights, Mr. Yoy brings sushi in and then we usually watch a movie.  It is our old, married person routine.

Last night Big E was wide awake because I let him take an almost 2 hour nap after school.  My bad, I know.

We were all up in our bedroom watching the Braves game and Big E made it clear he wasn't tired.  I wasn't in the fighting mood, but I was super starving.

Mr. Yoy told Big E to stay on the bed and don't move.

We snuck downstairs to eat our sushi in peace.  I didn't need his grubby little hands touching my dinner.

We only heard him jump down off the bed once (because our house was built in like 7 hours and is a total shack) and then he quickly climbed back up into bed.

We finished dinner and made our way back upstairs.  I walked into our bedroom and Big E said with such enthusiasm:

Watch baseball with me, mommy?

I know he was just stalling and desperate to stay up wtih us, but I still found it to be very endearing.

Really, I'm just impressed that he followed directions.

Big E would eat this much sushi, if I let him.  Impressive!

Friday, August 19, 2011

A recap of Big E's first week of school

What did you do at school today? - Mrs. Yoy on both Wednesday and Friday

I eat lunch. - Big E on both Wednesday and Friday

For the record, he is there for 4 hours, so I'm pretty sure they are doing something else besides eating the longest meal ever.  If not, this is one expensive meal.

Additional clues: he is covered with sweat, food (validates the lunch thing), and mulch.

I'm pretty sure he is killing it on the playground as well.

Good news - Teacher Yoy is there to answer all of my questions.

Although it is kind of funny (and insane) to try and recreate the day through Big E's eyes.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Little Mister Bossy

After preschool, I ushered the Yoys home for afternoon naps.  Although I've been weaning Big E from his nap, I figured his first day back at school warranted one.

The cleaning crew, a mother and son, was still at the house finishing up on the upstairs area.  Side note: don't judge - I realize I don't work and have cleaning people.  Mr. Yoy either hasn't noticed or does not want to have that argument with me.

The mother, a sweet, older lady who speaks hardly any English, was working on Little Es nursery.  Big E immediately went in there and started peppering her with questions.

What are you doing?

What's going on?

Over and over and over again.

She smiled at Big E and asked him how he was.

He repeated his questioning assault on her.  I'm sure she wanted to run the vacuum right over him.  I know I did.  But she was kind to him and I certainly appreciate that.

She said good bye to him and headed downstairs to clean.

Big E couldn't let it go.  He kept calling her "the cleaning people" which I guess is what I call them.  I'm grateful that I don't call them the maids or something else that could be construed as derogatory.

You going down the stairs?  You going down the stairs?

And then he said it.  I am so hoping she didn't understand him.

You clean my playroom?!  Clean my playroom?!

No please.  No thank you.  Just a two year old telling a nice, old lady what to do.

I was mortified.

Manners camp ramps up in the morning.
Just substitute the Miss for Mister

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

One important fact about your child...

I was filling out some forms Big E's preschool teacher sent home with us today.

Hebrew name - check
Emergency contacts - check
Birth date - check

But then came the question about one important thing you want the teacher to know about your child.

I stared at the paper like I was blanking on one of my accounting finals.

How does that Cash Flow Statement work again?

Anyway, I asked Mr. Yoy if he had any ideas.

We came up with the following:

1) He likes to shout out at random times: MY P*NIS HURTS!

2) He picks his nose and may or may not eat it depending on when his last meal occurred.

3) He sings show tunes like it's his job.

4) He has an insane memory.

5) He is a tough lover.  Just ask Little E.

6) He is very friendly and will walk off with whoever is offering up a free hand. See Most Likely to Be Kidnapped.

7) He is Skype proficient.

8) He likes to carry Mr. Yoy's briefcase up and down the stairs for a good workout.

We decided #6 was probably very important to tell, the rest, not so much.

Big E practicing #8

Pretzel M&Ms > Gold

I've been feeling some pressure lately to get Big E toilet trained.  It was only compounded today when we went for school orientation and he was the only one in his class that brought in a bag of diapers.

I bought Big E a little toilet a few months back to get him comfortable with the idea of using it.  See Potty Training.

He sometimes sits on it with a diaper.  Sometimes without.  But he never actually uses it.  I knew that if I didn't push (bribe) him, nothing would change and he would be going on dates in his pull-ups.

My mom used M&Ms to train me.  It seemed to work considering I, too, use the toilet.

Today I bought some Pretzel M&Ms.  Partially to encourage Big E, partially to reward me for attempting to toilet train this little Yoy.

I stripped Big E down to his t-shirt and let him run around naked.  Finally, he sat down on his little toilet.  After about 30 minutes, which included pulling all off the toilet paper off the roll and clogging up the big people toilet, he started shouting for some M&Ms.  I figured I could give him a few for sitting there and at least attempting.

What I forgot about Big E, is that he doesn't eat the M&Ms right away.  He lets them melt in his hands, which I believe the maker of M&Ms swears doesn't happen.  Then, while I thought he was sitting on his little toilet in our guest bathroom, he was busy touching the white bathmat and some more toilet paper.

When I peeked in on him again, I saw this orange mess on the toilet paper and thought he may have gone.  Simultaneously I touched the door handle and quickly realized I had been M&M'd.  It was everywhere.

Deep breath for me.

So, I threw everything in the washing machine and clorox wiped all the bathroom door handles.

In the meantime, Big E was back on the toilet because now he was hooked on the M&Ms.  He yelled for me that he had gone.  I went into the bathroom and sure enough, there was a tiny puddle of urine in his toilet.

I almost cried, seriously.

I have never been so proud of bodily fluid in my entire life.

I hugged Big E and told him what a good job he'd done.  I received no hug in return, just a demand for more M&Ms.  And then his diaper.

After dinner I saw him roam into the dining room, ground zero for most of his post meal poops.  I asked him if he wanted to use his toilet and he yelled no and hid under the table.  And then went to the bathroom.

Clearly, I wasn't expecting a miracle, but at least we took a baby step today.

Please let this be easy!  Please let this be easy!  Please let this be easy!

Monday, August 15, 2011

No rest for Mrs. Yoy

This morning we went to Zoo Atlanta.  After pushing the Yoys around in the double stroller all morning, I was one tired Mrs. Yoy.

Little E fell asleep on the way home and transferred well into his crib.  Big E, not so much.

I put Cars on the TV and informed Big E that mommy was going to take a quick nap.  I don't, in general, advocate using the TV as a babysitter, but the heat and my exhaustion were affecting my state of mind.

Here come my eyelids...

Anyway, I dozed off for a few minutes when suddenly there was a flurry of activity going on right inside the curve of my body lying on the couch.  I peeked open one eye to see what was up.

Big E had brought a puzzle and dumped all of the pieces on me.

He then proceeded to put the puzzle together right there.  He kept asking me if I was awake but I played dead.  He caught me peeking one time and it was game over.

Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mom?

It only stopped when I responded to him.




So much for my nap.  The bedtime countdown is on...
I wish this was me

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Mrs. Yoy a grandmother?

Yesterday was a really bad day for me.  I stood by and watched Big E fall about 5 feet off a caboose. See Oy Yoy Yoy.

After a brief hospital stint we went over to Uncle and Aunt Yoy's for some decompressing.  We had a lovely time and I even enjoyed a much needed daiquiri.

We were driving home on 285.  We were singing the round version of Row, Row, Row Your Boat, because we are just freaking awesome like that.

Big E seemed to be back to normal and I was so relieved.  Then my phone rang.

It was neighbor Yoy asking us if we were home.  I let her know we were on our way home and asked if everything on the home front was ok.  She informed us Poodle Yoy was sitting by our front door.

I checked the time: 8:19.  We left the house for the hospital around 2:15.

My guilty mother feelings that I had been suppressing all day bubbled to the surface.

Am I the worst person on earth?

First, I let my kid fall off a train.

Second, the dog must have slipped out unknowingly when we were loading up for the hospital and we left her in the 90+ degree heat for 6 hours.

Bad, bad, bad mommy day.

But even worse, my first thought was:

The Poodle Yoy is probably pregnant!

We have lots of undesirable stray dogs roaming the streets of Westside Atlanta.  Anything is possible.

The rest of the drive home Mr. Yoy and I discussed what the dog could have been doing all this time.  After composing multiple insane scenarios involving her playing poker in a back alley with the other neighborhood strays and the aforementioned pregnancy, we both agreed she probably just sat staring at the front door until our neighbors spotted her.

We got home and reclaimed the dog.  Other than being a nervous wreck, she seemed to have escaped the mean Atlanta streets just fine.

After that I had to put the Yoys to bed, but I just wanted to put myself to bed.  I felt like a failure.

Erase and start over, please.
More baby Poodle Yoys on the way? 
(p.s. Poodle Yoy is fixed, so this was discussed in jest)

Oy Yoy Yoy!

Big E has been alive approximately 1,000 days.  He had a real hot streak going, until yesterday when we had our first trip to the emergency room.

During our trip to the train museum, Big E fell off a train caboose.  Not a toy one.  A real, life size, red caboose that is parked outside the train museum.  The only thing that broke his fall was his big noggin.

It sounded like a watermelon hitting the concrete, except it was his head.  I will never forget the sound for as long as I live.  I had nightmares last night that I was at some bad Gallagher show from the 1970s.

He was just out of my reach and I lunged for him, but it was too late.

I ran him into the train museum to see if anyone had a bag of ice.  No luck there, but a gentleman inside informed me I should take him to the hospital ASAP because he had heard the impact of the fall inside of the building.  Thanks, guy!

I had an Incredible Hulk moment, lifted Big E into my arms and ran his crying self across a parking lot, under a tunnel and into the restaurant next door to get some ice.  Talk about an adrenaline rush.

He calmed down as I iced the big plum that was protruding from his forehead.  With the help of my friend, we got the kids loaded up in the van and headed back into town.

I had Mr. Yoy meet me at home and we took Big E to Children's Healthcare.

He checked out fine, thank goodness, and managed to charm the pants off all of the nurses.

I handsome! 

Anyway, I'm sure this won't be our last visit to the emergency room, I'm just hoping Big E can rebuild his streak.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Today's Topic: What won't Big E eat?

This week I am doing a science experiment on Big E.  Don't worry, it is nothing scary or illegal.  I am cutting out his nap to see if I can get him to fall asleep before 10pm.  The late bedtime was killing me.

Monday, Wednesday, and today he went nap free.  Tuesday he napped at 11am because he was acting like a total terrorist.

I am noticing that while he goes to bed blissfully between 7 and 7:30 without his nap, his behavior from about 4 until we start bedtime would best be described as, should I put this nicely, HELL ON EARTH.

This leads me to today's example.

I heated up the leftover chicken quesadillas he barely touched at lunch for his dinner.  He picked through them for about 10 minutes and then declared he was all done.

Fine by me, I released him from his booster seat and he jumped on one of his cars and started doing NASCAR laps around the house. At this point, I chucked the quesadillas.  Clearly, he's not going to eat them.

After a few laps, he drives into the kitchen and asks for his quesadillas.  I explained to him that when he told me he was done eating, I threw them in the garbage.

He flew off the handlebars, literally.  He ran to the trash can and reached in for them.  He was absolutely hysterical.  It was like I had thrown away his Thomas train set.

The following thoughts went through my head:
1) You can't let your child rummage through the garbage for his dinner.
Followed by:
2) You did just put in a new trash bag and the only other thing in there was some shredded junk mail.
Which led to my conclusion:
3) Ok Big E, eat your dang quesadillas out of the trash.

My mom was on Skype with us at the time and she supported my decision, so I felt much better about feeding my baby trash.

So, add this to the unacceptable things I have allowed my kid to eat.

See The Boy in the Bubble

See Cheese pizza, hold the hair

and finally, see The Lollipop

I'm hoping Mr. Yoy will continue to let me parent after this one.

How could you not want to eat these?

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

You need help?

Today we were lunching at CPK.

Big E needed a diaper change, so I grabbed him and rushed off to the ladies restroom.

There were two stalls.  We made a beeline for the changing table within the handicap stall.

Big E was narrating everything as usual.

Clean diaper!


Changing table!

I heard the door swing open and someone walk into the stall next to us.  Great, now Big E has an audience.  Hopefully, he won't notice we are not alone.

Yeah, right.

He heard the lady moving around in the stall and he yelled out:

You need help?

He asked her three times.

She started to laugh.

I'm thinking to myself, hey Big E, why don't you learn how to use the big boy potty before you start administering advice in public restrooms?

And, by the way, there is public restroom etiquette.  At the top of the list of things that are not socially acceptable is talking to unknowns in the stall next to you.  See Atlanta Airport Restrooms for further proof.

What sort of help did he have in mind, anyway?

Unrolling yards and yards of toilet paper?

Attempting to flush the toilet for her?

A play by play?

I finish his diaper change and rush out of the bathroom.  She is at the sink laughing and washing her hands.

The only thing I can think to say to her is, he's a good helper.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011


We were on our way back to Mr. Yoy's office after a Yoy family lunch.  Mr. Yoy's phone rang right when we were settling into the car.  It was the managing partner from his office.

Mr. Yoy told everyone to be quiet.

About a minute into their conversation, I honked at a lady who ran the four way stop I had pulled up to.  (Side note: I honk way more now than I ever had.  I feel like I have to let everyone know what bad drivers they are now that I have kids in the car.)

Big E let out an enthusiastic "OH MY GOD!"

I guess I say this during my fits of road rage.  Mr. Yoy swung around, gave him a dirty look, and shushed him.  Mr. Yoy was trying his best to keep the car quiet and have a conversation with the managing partner.


Mr. Yoy is clearly stressing out.  He's one OMG from losing his job.

Then we swung by the elementary school.


I'm trying to keep Big E quiet.  Clearly, he's not cooperating.

Mr. Yoy hangs up the phone.  I gently remind him that he was the one who taught Big E how to say OMG and at the time he thought it was so funny and endearing.

Per his previous phone call, Mr. Yoy informs me he must call a client back by 3pm.  Current time on the clock: 2:41.  It is like an episode of 24.  Does he risk calling from the car?  Or risk not getting back to the office by 3pm.

He gambles and he loses.  He calls the client from the car.

Big E ramps up the OMG-ing.  Now it sounds like a cross between shouting and him making the biggest bowel movement ever.  I feel a smile creeping onto my face.  This is funny.  I can't not laugh. The client puts Mr. Yoy on hold for a minute.

Mr. Yoy says to me - this is not funny.  Then he tells Big E to please be quiet.  So calmly, I may add.  Maybe he was in shock.

Next came panic.  He asked me to pull over and let him out.  He'd walk back to the office, even if it was another 3 miles.

By the time the client gets back on the line, Big E is on repeat.  OMG OMG OMG OMG.

I've got the silent laughs, as I don't want Big E to be encouraged, and I'm crying real tears.

We dropped Mr. Yoy back at the office, still on the phone with the client.

He called me about 15 minutes later.  His message was clear.

"Enjoy the last few hours you'll have with Big E"

I guess we'll be returning him.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Family Pictures - Part 2

Well, it's over.

That's a positive.

I haven't seen the proofs yet, but based on the behavior of both Yoys, there will be nothing salvageable.

Frustration doesn't even begin to describe what I was feeling during the photo shoot.

I'm about 99% sure I was clenching my teeth during our family picture.

Big E would not smile, sit still, etc.  Not stickers.  Not "raisin snacks."  Not Thomas the Train himself could get this kid to cooperate.

Little E was not much better.  Although he is too young to really follow directions, I couldn't even get him to crack a smile.  Not once.  (Am I raising a serial killer?  No, seriously, am I?)

Mr. Yoy and I were jumping around like monkeys.  We made crazy alien noises.  Nothing.  No reaction whatsoever.

So, we called it a day.

Once we mentioned we were leaving, Big E started crying that he wanted to stay and he went and planted himself on the very spot the photographer had asked him to sit like 100x.  He kept yelling "take pictures!  take pictures!"

I literally wanted to walk over there and snap his head right off.  But, I didn't.  I can think it though, can't I?

The photographer assured us she got some good stuff.  I guess time will tell.
Me, post pictures.

Friday, August 5, 2011

What's up, Switches?

Yeah, I said switches, not the other word that rhymes with it.

It finally happened.  This one event is going to change many things around the Yoy house, but most of all, our power bill.  I thought it was high with the soaring temperatures and the constantly running air conditioners.  Now this...

Big E figured out he is tall enough to reach the light switches and turn them on.  Honestly, I thought he'd never get there, he is such a little guy.

The problem is, he is not tall enough to flick them back down and turn them off. As I wander from room to room in our house, every single light and fan is going.

I have flashbacks to when I was younger and my parents would leave me to babysit my younger brother.  I was still a little nervous about being left alone, so I'd turn every single light on in our house.  My parents would come home and my dad would say -


I feel these wise words bubbling up in my throat.  I'm pretty sure this will become my go-to phrase, because Big E is obsessed with the light switches.

My only hope is that he shoots up another inch overnight so he can then turn them off.  Then it'll be like we are living in a discoteca. See Showering with the Karate Kid.
The downfall of Mrs. Yoy and our power bill 

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Family Pictures

Saturday morning we are making the trek up to Acworth to have updated Yoy family pictures taken.

Major planning and strategy go into this event, in addition to the major buildup of anxiety Big E causes me whenever I need him to sit for pictures.  See Most Likely to be Kidnapped.

First of all, we have to color coordinate.  Especially because we are having a few pictures taken of my Yoys with Cousin Yoy.  I'm not an everyone-must-wear-a-matching-polo-shirt and khakis kind of girl, but I want us to blend well.  There will be no clashing in the Yoy family picture.

My second point of contention is Little E's face.  I find myself talking to his skin.

Please don't have an acne flare-up between now and Saturday.  Seriously, don't do it.

I'm also worried he may scratch his face during his sleep.  See Clip it! Clip it good!.

Then there is Big E's hair.  It is borderline hair-cut time.  I'm just worried he'll get a Dumb and Dumber cut and then the pictures will look ridiculous.  I'm going to leave it, based on his past behavior while he's in the barber chair.  I'm not going to gamble and lose.

My final worry is the wild card, Big E's behavior.  Will he be camera shy?  Will he cooperate?

NO PICTURES! (Big E's response everytime I pull out the camera)

I've already decided that I'm prepared to sit for a revised Yoy family portrait with Little E, Mr. Yoy and myself.  I'll explain to him later why he wasn't included in the picture.

So as I prepare to pull together all of the outfits and any other random props Mr. Yoy comes up with for our shoot, I will also bring a giant bag of bribery.  I am not above bribery.

I just want one fantastic family picture.  Ninety-nine percent of the time the Yoy family is a walking train wreck.  I'd just like to preserve one moment when we look like one of those perfect families you'd find in a picture frame in Target.

Is this too much to ask for?
This could easily be us if there were more Yoys around.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Memory like an elephant

Today Big E told a lady in the mall that he threw up in his crib.

She gave him an odd look and asked him to repeat himself.

No need for repeating, I knew exactly what he said.

Why he is still talking about this, I'm not sure.  It was three months ago.  It hasn't happened since, I'm pretty sure Mr. Yoy and I cleaned up the entire mess.

Move on, Big E.  Next topic, please.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Train Museum aka a natural laxative

The past two weekends I have taken the kids to the Southern Museum of Civil War and Locomotive History.  Big E has a mild obsession with trains.  Each morning when he awakes, he asks if we are going to the museum that day.

Inside the museum there is an awesome, almost always empty, playroom for the kids.  Big E settles into a seat at the train table and Little E army crawls his way around the room.  He has a wide smile on his face the whole time.

Cumulatively, we have spent hours in this room.  I could leave them there in the morning and come back hours later and they'd still be playing quietly.  It is quite amazing.

There is one negative aspect of this room.  For the past two weekends, Little E has made not one, but two poonamis in the time we are hanging out.  This is a Mrs. Yoy no-no.  I always tell them not to go in public.  (See the Yoy Plane Etiquette)

Changing poo diapers in public is the worst.  Little E is impossible.  I quickly pull out my changing pad and do a diaper change on the floor in the playroom.  The scent lingers and I pray no one else shows up.  Several minutes go by, I think we've survived the worst of it.  And then he does it again!  Dang!

I discover the ladies restroom has a changing table and a diaper genie.  Thank you museum!

At the end of our stroll through the museum, Big E informs me he has "made dirts."

Awesome.  I lead him back through the museum maze to the restroom to do my third poop diaper change in just under an hour.

I wonder, do I win a medal for this?
The General - on display at the train museum

Weigh-in Day

Sorry I have been lax on my blogs.  I, like every other 16 year old, got sucked into the Hunger Games Trilogy.  I'm almost done with book two and have pulled myself away to update my readers on the goings-on of the Yoys.

Today we are taking Little E to the doctor for his one year check up.  This will include putting him on the scale.

I find much satisfaction in finding out how much he weighs.

That way, when I'm in public and someone says for the ten millionth time, "HOW MUCH DOES THAT BABY WEIGH??", I will be able to say with much certainty, Little E weighs 27 lbs (which is my guess).

I'll check back in later with his actual weight.

Anyone else want to enter the Yoy weight pool?  Any guesses?