Monday, October 31, 2011

Nerds

I'm not talking about my kids' future social status, I'm talking about the candy.

We packed up the Yoys for some early evening trick or treating.  We brought along our neighbors from across the street.  Their little boy, Mr. W, is about 18 months and learning the art of trick or treating.

He didn't want to hold his candy collecting pumpkin basket, so we gave it to Little E to hold while we pushed him in his little car.  This kept him quiet and this was key.

Midway through our trek around the neighborhood, we encountered a stray pit bull.  Usually the strays just keep away from you, but all I can think about are the pit bull maulings that are always in the news.  This puts us all a little on edge as we keep one eye on the dog as she hunts for food and one eye on our werewolf, scarecrow, and fireman.

What we needed was a little comic relief.  And that is why we keep Little E around.  Mr. B had taken the candy basket away from Little E and just as expected he went ballistic.  He immediately started screaming.

I gave him the key chain with our house keys to quiet him down.  Not the best idea, I know, but I was desperate. Imagine retracing your path post trick or treating to find your keys.  But, alas, this quieted him down.  Thank goodness!

Mr. Yoy was pushing Little E in his car and he had that look on his face that I know too well.  He had something in his mouth.  I ran up to him and pinched his cheeks.

JACKPOT!

I could make out the familiar Nerds candy logo inside his mouth.  Holy crap, this kid had put an entire box of Nerds in his mouth!  He must have snaked it from Mr. W's candy basket.

I yell for Mr. Yoy to help.  He goes in and retrieves a dissolving combination of cardboard, candy, and spit.

Only my kid would eat the candy including the packaging. That's just how much he likes to eat.  Nothing will stop him, certainly not paper.

Happy Halloween, friends!
What Mr. Yoy excavated from Little E's mouth.  Unreal.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Mrs. Yoy: A law unabiding citizen

Today's story began in the same parking lot as OMG.  It must be the parking lot.

We had just finished breakfast with Aunt and Cousin Yoy. Mr. Yoy was at work, so I was flying solo.  I was waiting at the light at Peachtree and Peachtree Battle (insert Atlanta joke here).  I was heading straight.  These are important details.

There was also some sort of run event happening on Peachtree and they had two Atlanta Police officers out there directing the traffic out of the shopping center.

The woman officer gave me the green light to make a right onto Peachtree.  I signalled that I needed to go straight and she nodded her head and told me to wait a minute.

I checked the clock.  I had been sitting there for three minutes.  Little E was in desperate need for a nap.  I was a Yoy on a schedule and this was throwing a wrench into my plan.  I needed to have Little E back up from his nap at 11:30 so I could get to our next event for the day.  We needed to get home, ASAP.

Light cycle after light cycle they waved through people making a left out of the shopping center while ignoring my lane.

I was getting mad.  Now we had been sitting there for six minutes.  I could have run home faster.  Not really, but I was becoming illogical with my anger.  This will explain what happens next.

A pack of four bikers pull up next to me.  Good luck, I think.  Them plus the now twelve cars lined up behind me are going to be living at this shopping center for a long, long time.  The other police officer waves them through to go straight.  Well, if they can go, I'm going.  I've been sitting at this light for eight minutes and my blood is boiling.  I gun it.

HEY!  STOP!

The officer yelled at me. I was now parked in the middle of Peachtree Street.  Hey if I can't go, than no one else should be able to either.  Mrs. Yoy teaching her kids outstanding morals, I know.

I yell back to the officer.

YOU LET THE BIKES GO!

He snapped back at me.

YOU ARE NOT A BIKE!

Thanks, captain obvious.

I'VE BEEN SITTING AT THIS LIGHT FOR EIGHT MINUTES! I'VE GOT TO GET MY BABY HOME FOR A NAP!

The sympathetic cop replied.

I DON'T CARE!

After some gassed runners limped by, he waves me through.  I was like 99% sure I was going to be arrested for being smart to him.  I didn't care.  I was mad at their complete incompetence.

I looked in my rear view mirror at the poor soul behind me.  He tried to sneak through and was also yelled at. But, I was through.  And that's all that mattered.

Look, directing traffic sucks.  I get it.  But that doesn't mean you have to be terrible at it.

This is my second disheartening encounter with APD in the past few weeks.  First, they took like 15 minutes to respond to my 911 call during puttin the "hood" in neighborhood.  This does not give me warm fuzzies about our safety as city residents.

And now this.
Bad Yoys! Bad Yoys!  Whatcha gonna do?  Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

My First F-Bomb

No, this is not a Fisher Price toy.

Yesterday was the FL/GA game.  As a UF alumni living in Atlanta, this is a very important game.  Yes, I enjoy winning in general, but to win this game guarantees I have another year of care-free existence here.  I don't have to hear the "barking" from the UGA fans.  After yesterday, I think we've lost two or three since I moved here in 1999.  So, understandably, us Gators are a little on edge.

Our neighbors went to college with Mr. Yoy and are also big Gator fans.  Mr. B came over to watch the second half with Mr. Yoy, Big E, and me.

It was pretty hard to watch as we were playing like a giant turd.  The boys were getting frustrated while simultaneously drinking lots of liquor.

There were some foul words coming out of their mouths. Even nearby sailors were covering their ears in horror.

Mr. Yoy yelled out something to extent of:

TACKLE THAT F*CKING GUY!

I'm sure you know where this is going.

Big E already quotes such gems as:

KILL! KILL! -Annie


YOU PROMISED! -The Lion King


WHATCHU TALKIN BOUT WILLIS? - Diff'rent Strokes (I still can't believe Arnold died)

He hurled himself onto the couch next to Mr. B and yelled

TACKLE THAT F*CKING GUY!

Mr. Yoy and Mr. B found this to be really funny.

I, on the other hand, did not.  I asked them to stop laughing, reacting, etc.  If we pretend that didn't just happen, maybe he won't realize he blurted out the worst of the bad words.

He hasn't said it again, so maybe that was just a one time performance.

I'm just hoping he doesn't say it at school when someone takes a toy from him:

GIVE ME THAT F*CKING TOY BACK!

or at the doctor's office when he gets a shot:

WHAT THE F*CK WAS THAT FOR?


Well, we almost made it to his third birthday without any cuss words.  That's got to count for something, right?
Oy vey.

Friday, October 28, 2011

My three year anniversary

Today marks the three anniversary of when I left my tax job at the bank and became a SAHM.  At the time, I thought I had a good six weeks of getting the nursery ready, resting, and continuing on the food warpath until Big E arrived.

Little did I know, Big E would come over three weeks early and surprise everyone.  Picture my mom and Mr. Yoy running through Walmart at 11:58pm trying to find a rocking chair so the nursery was ready for us when we came home from the hospital the next day.  I'm sorry I missed that supermarket sweep.

I love staying home with my kids.  I truly enjoy them, most of the time.  So I thought I'd summarize the pros and cons of being a SAHM.

Pros:
1) Spending all day with my kids.

Cons:
1) Spending all day with my kids.

I'm joking, I'm joking.

I do miss my work colleagues and spending my days really using my brain and talking to adults.  I try to keep my brain from rotting in my head, see Sudoku.  But sometimes I fail, see Mush Brain.

But I also love hanging with the Yoys, and I am so grateful for that.  There is no place else I'd rather be.

The three years went by so fast and in another three, Big E will be in school full-time.  It is hard to imagine not spending the majority of the day with my buddy, but I'm sure I'll manage.

Hello gym, shopping, lunching, and sleeping! (Oh wait, what about Little E?)
Mrs. Yoy.  Minus the cooking, cleaning, apron and land-line.

Wardrobe Opinions

Man, did we have a blowout fight this morning over Big E's shirt.

The worst part was, Big E was the innocent bystander.

After last night's amazing 11th inning victory, I put Big E in his Cardinals shirt to wear to school.  As a native of the Loo and a major fan, I thought this would be a great wardrobe choice today.

Admittedly, I was unable to stay up for the end of the game last night and was completely shocked when I heard about it.

Mr. Yoy took one look at the shirt and vetoed it.  I think mostly because he is still bitter about the Cards knocking the Braves out of the playoffs, but whatever.

Mr. Yoy claims that as a Georgia resident, Big E needed to wear his Gator shirt in honor of tomorrow's football matchup.  Snooze.

So we argued about it and of course, Big E took my side. He would not take the Cardinals shirt off and Mr. Yoy had to tear it off Big E as he screamed and cried.

I didn't feel bad about that at all.  Mr. Yoy should have let Big E wear his Cardinal red to school.

I imagine this is what it must be like to have a daughter, except instead of Mr. Yoy and Mrs. Yoy fighting over what our kid wears, the kid actually pipes up and has major opinions, too.

Go Cards!

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

A love/hate relationship with ketchup

Ah, ketchup.  It is a very polarizing condiment.  Aunt and Uncle Yoy would rather eat dirt than put ketchup on their french fries.  But Big E, he is a major ketchup guy.

I have figured out that he will eat anything with ketchup on it.

Chicken?  CHECK!

Carrots?  CHECK!

Cucumber? CHECK!

Grapes?  CHECK!

Tomatoes?  Seems like overkill, but CHECK!

I'm pretty sure if I presented him with a heaping plate of dog poop with a side of ketchup, he'd at least try to eat it.

So how can I hate ketchup?  The gateway food for proteins and veggies, food that Big E may not eat otherwise.

I'll tell you why.

This sh*t gets everywhere.  After dinner tonight Big E stood up and had what appeared to be a bullet hole in his shorts hovering near his left thigh.

I thought, did I miss when the sniper came through the kitchen and shot up my kid?

He didn't appear to be injured, so I chalked it up to ketchup.

Good thing I just bought a giant bottle of OxiClean Laundry Stain Remover (Mrs. Yoy not being paid to advertise this, but would gladly do it).

I almost bought this shirt for Big E when we were in New Orleans.  For whatever reason, these shirts were everywhere.  

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

My Micromanager

The locksmith came out today to reinforce the doors of the Yoy house.  This was a major project.  We now have metal reinforcements around the door frame, locks, and hinges.  Do you hear that bad guys?  Go to a different house!  This house is a fortress!  Plus we have lasers (maybe).

It took the locksmith, Kevin, about four hours to reinforce all the doors.

Hot on his heels the entire time, was my little micromanager, Big E.

What are you doing?


What's that sound?


Where are you going?


Kevin was very kind with Big E.  He answered all his questions without frightening him with the real reason our doors were being "checked". See Putting the "hood" in neighborhood.

He was probably wishing he had an i-Pod right about now and some very loud heavy metal or gangsta rap to drown out the inquisition.

As Kevin was completing the doors, Big E took a mega-poop.  I needed to settle up the bill, but I didn't want the locksmith to drop dead of poisonous fumes, so I asked Big E to head upstairs for a diaper change.

I walked Kevin to the door and thanked him for his work.

Big E yelled down from his room.

Bye Kevin!  Thanks for checking our doors!

We both laughed.  He told Big E he was welcome and told me what a sweet boy Big E was.

I have to admit, I was really proud of Big E's manners. Even if Big E did take a giant dump in front of Kevin just moments earlier.

I'm beginning to have quite the T-shirt collection.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Today's irrational fear

Little E was diagnosed with Eczema at the doctor.

Apparently, it is exacerbated by sweating and hotness. With the drop in temps, I've been putting him in fleece jammies and a sleep sack.  This coupled with the heat did a number on his skin.  The kid has sensitive skin in general (see Please don't judge me), but I've never seen it this bad.

The doctor told me to put him back in cotton jammies and just a blanket, not a sleep sack.

STOP THE PRESSES!  Little E can use a blanket?

He'll be 15 months at the end of this week, but I still have this crazy, irrational fear that he is going to wrap his head up in the blanket and suffocate.

Tell me I'm being crazy.  I really try not to be crazy mom. I'm shooting more for the relaxed and chilled mom type.

In fact, I don't even have a baby monitor.  So even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to watch Little E smother himself with his sweet little rocket ship themed blanket.

After a 30 minute fight with myself, I took the plunge and gave him the blanket.  Little E is sleeping now.  I'll definitely be in to check on him to make sure he didn't make a Little E burrito out of himself and his blanket.

To make me feel a little better, I'd love for you to share your irrational parenting fears.  Thanks, readers!
This really doesn't have much to do with my blog, I'm just fascinated that someone wrapped their baby up like a burrito.  Why didn't I think of this?

Watch out for rolling Yoys!

Today's bad mommy moment was brought to you by Little E, a hill, and a Publix shopping cart.

I was the West Paces Publix.  Really I was at the West Paces Goldberg's, but decided to pick up a few things while I was so close to Publix.

I had the sweet parallel parking spot right in front of Goldberg's.  I pushed Little E in the cart to unload our groceries.  I stopped the cart at the car and began to unload the groceries.

Everything was going smoothly until I heard a bang.  The Publix cart had rolled off the curb and done a header into the side of my beloved Sienna.

Sh*t!

I cursed in front of my baby.  I feel bad about that.

Little E started crying.  Thank goodness I had strapped him in.  He was fine, just startled.

A man sitting on the bench outside of Goldberg's going to town on his smoothie commented in a tone I did not appreciate:

I saw that happening!


Oh really?  Well how about a head's up?  Maybe like, hey lady - your baby is about to roll off a curb and into traffic.

I was able to rub out the plastic mark the cart left on the side of the Sienna and Little E calmed down once I got him in his car seat.

Overall it could have been way worse.    I think I'm just aggravated about the uselessness of bench man.
Not today, I'm afraid.  Not today.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Nesting

Over the past week I have cleaned out our foyer closet, the boys' playroom closet, and cleaned the inside of the fridge.

I find it to be very therapeutic.  Plus, after watching many episodes of Hoarders, I'm trying my best to not end up on that show.

Mrs. Yoy, we are here today to talk about your compulsive Sudoku puzzle book hoarding problem. We have even found mouse droppings in them.


In case I lost you, the above paragraph would be how my Hoarders episode played out.

Although Mr. Yoy is very grateful for my efforts, he still can't shake the feeling that I'm nesting.  Every time I show him a clean closet he says anxiously...

Are you sure you're not pregnant?


I'm not.  I swear.

I'm just trying to live a simpler, more organized life.
Our foyer closet before I worked my magic.

It tastes like sweet potato!

This statement would have been fine, if Big E had declared it during dinner when he was actually eating sweet potato.

Inside, he reported it to me in between licks of his hands.

With winter looming, I've been moisturizing the hell out of the Yoys at bedtime.  We use Aveeno Baby Calming & Comfort Lotion - Lavender & Vanilla.

It smells like heaven.  I can see its allure.

In fact, back in my days at UF, I was a big fan of this deodorant that smelled like candy.  I can't remember the brand, but it seriously smelled delicious.  I told my roommate jokingly that I wanted to taste it.  And when I accidentally did, while trying to be funny, I learned the hard way that deodorant is not edible.  In fact, it tasted what I thought battery acid would taste like.

Anyway, back to Big E.  He assumes everything out of a tube is hand sanitizer.  As soon as I pull the lotion out, he requests some on his hands.  He rubs them together like he would the hand sanitizer.  But then he crosses the line.

He full on eats it.

As you know, my parenting quota is definitely used up by 6:30 in the evening.  I don't feel like fighting.

So I let him eat it.

And now I know Aveeno lotion tastes like sweet potato. Who knew?
I'm not completely sold on the calming effects of this lotion.  This might be better suited:
Just an observation...

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

I'm Late!

Oh, not that kind of late.

Like, the one time I have to drive Big E to school I sleep until 8:26.  This is total un-Mrs. Yoy behavior.  I usually awake around 7 on my own, singing and happy to greet the day.

The middle of the night storms and my hourly bad guy check kept me up half the night and I was sleeping it off.  I could hear Big E yelling through our wall.

GET ME OUT OF HERE!  GET ME OUT OF HERE!

Whoops!

I had about 14 minutes to get both Yoys up, dressed, and fed before we needed to leave for an on time school arrival.

Oh, and myself, I had to get dressed.

I can't really recall what happened over the next 15 minutes.  There was a lot of running, yelling, and racing up and down the stairs.  I'm pretty sure there was also some sort of motivational theme music.

I asked Big E what he wanted to take along in the car for his breakfast.

He asked for a bagel and cream cheese.

Uh, hello, this isn't Goldberg's.  I obliged anyway, because he was being pretty good.

With the rain and some traffic we arrived at school about 8 minutes late.

Not bad, not bad at all.

Yeah, Little E was still half-dressed and it was like 50 degrees outside, but he's got some built-in warmth.

So far, I am amazing.  We'll see how the rest of the day goes.
You would have been helpful this morning.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Do you want the good news or the bad news?

Lucky for you, I'm going to give you both.

Little E had a wonderful dinner tonight of rotisserie chicken, carrots, avocado, and grapes.  He cleared his plate with the exception of a few pieces of chicken.

Instead of throwing away the chicken, I placed it in Poodle Yoy's bowl so she could have a really good dinner. Consider it her reward for how hard she works at keeping my kitchen floor spotless.  She must not have seen me put the food in her bowl because she is usually all over it.

I took Little E out of his highchair so he could play a little before we began bath time.

Then I ran outside for literally a minute.  I wanted to see if the new flood light sensors I had installed out front were working.  Some were, some weren't, but that's a different story and even more proof that the Yoys aren't "do-ers" no matter what Home Depot says.

Anyway, I hurry back inside because I trust no one.  Not Big E, not Little E, not even the dog.

Big E was lining up the magnets on the fridge.  Weird, but not illegal.

Little E was sitting by the back door with the guiltiest face I've ever seen him wear.  I knew that look anywhere. He had a mouth full of food.

My eyes immediately shifted over to Poodle Yoy's food bowl.  Empty like my pockets.

That little stinker!  He wouldn't eat the food off his own plate, but give it to the dog and Little E gobbles it up like it's a Bone's filet.

I squeeze his cheeks together and I see the chicken in there.

I now have two choices:

1) Reach in his mouth and risk him biting me.  It's happened before, so I'm a little gun shy.

or

2) Let him finish eating the chicken and hope that none of Poodle Yoy's dog food made its way into his mouth.

I went with option #2.

So, you see, the good news is Little E finished his dinner. The bad news is, he finished it while eating out of the dog's bowl that probably hasn't been washed since Bush was in office.

Little E seemed fine during bath and story time, so I'm going to call this a victory!
Not Little E.  My floors are bad, but not THAT BAD.

Monday, October 17, 2011

We had our first UDO

What is a UDO you ask?

I will tell you.

It is an Unidentified Diaper Object.  You're intrigued, I know.

Little E had a dirty diaper.  I picked up that sack of potatoes and carried him up to his changing table.  I don't normally excavate his BMs, but I noticed something blue.

Was it a crayon?  He is hot for crayons. Nope, not a crayon.

I pulled it out and wiped it down.  It was a square piece of blue plastic the size of a quarter.  My best guess was a toy car door.

I took a picture to send to a lucky few, but I'll spare you the details.

I have a few comments about this incident:

1)  I'm so thankful that Little E didn't choke while eating the blue plastic UDO.

2) When did he eat the UDO?  I normally don't leave him unattended to devour plastic pieces as he chooses.

3) I wonder if this hurt as it made its way through his system.

4) I wonder if it did any damage to his intestines, stomach, bowels, etc.

The whole thing really scared me and I'm going to be more mindful of allowing Big E to have the big boy toys out if they have little pieces.

Maybe my next blog should be:  What won't Little E eat? Clearly he doesn't limit himself to digestible items.
If only Little E could read.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Mush Brain

My brain is rotting in my head.

I just know it.

Today I dragged the Yoys to Home Depot to load up on exterior lighting and timers in response to last week's neighbor break-in.

I spent about 20 minutes peppering the Home Depot employee with all sorts of questions.

I had a cart full of timers and light bulbs and a few other things.

I roll up to the check out lane and unload my cart of everything except Big and Little E.

I reach into the diaper bag to grab my wallet.  I dig and I dig and I dig.

Then a light bulb goes off, pun intended.

My wallet is in my other purse.

OH MAN!  My whole trip was a waste.

I ask the check out lady if she can bag all of my stuff and keep it behind the counter.  I'd need to come back for it.

She was very understanding.

I then called Mr. Yoy at work and asked him to run over there and buy all the stuff for me, as I could not stomach a return trip which included loading and unloading the Yoys AGAIN.

Mr. Yoy saved the day!

I need to go do some mind exercises.

This is my second major flap of the week and I'd hate to make it a trifecta!
My future anatomy.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

I TOLD YOU SO!

Big E was eating dinner.  I know, I know, another meal time story.  You must think all we do is eat, and this may or may not be true.

He was "sitting" at the kitchen table in a chair.  I put "sitting" in quotes because he never actually puts his bottom in the seat.  Tonight he was squatting sideways in the chair.

He took a bite of his delicious dinner and did a back flip out of his chair.

Dang!  My son just literally flipped over my cooking!

Not really.  He lost his balance - an event I've been predicting he'd do since we took him out of the highchair.

He landed on his eye, fork in hand, food in mouth.  He was silent crying, which in my opinion, is the most pathetic.  He was still chewing, so that was a good sign.

He finally was able to make some sobbing noises.

I rushed to him and rubbed his eye and kissed his forehead.  He calmed down pretty fast.

What I really wanted to do was shout:

I TOLD YOU SO!

Because I did.  Like every night.  While he ate his dinner sitting backwards, sideways, standing, etc.

Little E laughed.  Payback for the constant torture inflicted by Big E.

Another t-shirt to add to my collection. 

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

I dare you to sleep through this...

Tonight we had an event that kept us out of the house until around 7.  As we neared home, Big E kept falling asleep in the back of the van.

Big E!  Wake up!  Don't fall asleep!  We are almost home!

The problem with him falling asleep, even if it is for ten minutes, is then he is UP.  Tonight, I need him to be ready for a twelve hour coma.  Especially because I, too, am ready for a twelve hour coma.

We make it home and he doesn't fight me on bed time. We read some books and I tuck him in.

Good night, Big E!

I hear a few melodies out of him, but he quiets down almost immediately.

This is my big chance!  I can finally take a shower to wash off a day's worth of Yoy crud.

I'm in the shower.  We have lined up on a shelf eight bottles of miscellaneous bath stuff.  Of which, we use none.  Above the bottles is a shower squeegee hooked onto a suction cup.

Tonight, the squeegee decided to leap off the glass and take out every single bottle balancing precariously on the shower shelf.  It was like watching the best game of Angry Birds ever.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

I jumped about ten feet in the air as I'm still on edge from earlier this week.  See Putting the "hood" in neighborhood.

Great, I'm 100% sure that woke up Big E.  His bedroom wall shares a wall with our bathroom and the walls are made of rice paper.  It's like we live in Japan.

While I'm at it, I should probably go into his room and set off an air horn.

I turn off the water and take a deep breath.  I'm praying for silence.  I open the shower door and listen.

Ahhhhhhh, sweet silence.  You are music to my ears.

Shower crisis averted.
Just think of the Angry Bird as my shower squeegee and the bricks as the countless bottles of conditioner, shampoo, body wash, face soap, exfoliant, etc.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Oh, how I hate reruns!

This is happening again?

Big E spent the better part of 45 minutes at dinnertime gutting his quesadilla.  He was pulling the cheese out and licking the tortilla.  Appetizing, I know.

He left the table and began to play.  I asked him if he was done with dinner.

YES OR NO?

He said yes.

So I pitched the quesadilla carcass.

And...GO!

Gripping a spoon and a fork, he ran to the trash and started fishing for his dinner.

I pulled his little arms out of the trash.  He immediately reached back in.  He was crying for his dinner.  I pulled the whole trash bag out and went to tie it up.  I noticed the spoon was now missing.  Big E was clawing at the bag and screaming.  Big tears were streaming down his face.

QUESADILLA!  QUESADILLA!  QUESADILLA!

Ugh, for the last time Big E, we don't eat food out of the trash!  See What won't Big E eat?

I grabbed the bag and ran into the garage to search for my spoon in dimly lit peace.  He's inside banging on the door.  I can't find the dang spoon, but can I mention how much I love rummaging through our trash?  I leave the bag next to my car and head back inside.

I find the spoon on his place mat.  Whew!

I run back to the garage.  Big E follows me.  I tie up the bag and throw it in our trash can.  Big E is standing next to the trash can and begging for his dinner.

Now this is just pathetic.  I ask him to come in the house with me.  He is not interested.  I have to pick him up and drag him into the house.  He grabs onto the side mirror of my car.

I'm hoping none of my neighbors happen to be walking by, because it probably sounds like I'm running a torture chamber out of my garage.  Which for the record, I am not.

I got Big E back in the house and we sat at the dinner table, took deep breaths, and calmed down (both of us needed this).

I looked over at Little E sitting quietly in his highchair, he smiled at me.  Then he picked his nose.  Oh, Little E, don't ever grow up.
You see trash, Big E sees his next meal.

Putting the "hood" in neighborhood

Sunday night we opened the windows to let the brisk fall air in.

I was all snuggled into my bed and sleeping away.  It was 5:45 am.

Then I heard it. BANG!  Then a security alarm.  I immediately leapt out of bed and went to our back window.  Nothing there.  I ran to Big E's bathroom and looked out the window.  Again nothing.

Another BANG!  What in the world?  I ran to the front window and peeked out.  Neighbor Yoy's car came flying out of his driveway, driven by someone other than our neighbor.  And so did some guy holding his TV.

Holy crap, our neighbors were being robbed.  I went screaming like a banshee into our bedroom.

NEIGHBOR YOY IS BEING ROBBED!  NEIGHBOR YOY IS BEING ROBBED!

Mr. Yoy jumped out of bed.  I called 911.  I could barely breathe.

We couldn't believe our eyes.  We were living our very own episode of Cops, but this wasn't entertaining.  It was freaking crazy!

The robbers left in two cars and sped off down the street as one of my other neighbors chased them in his car (he's Chief of the city prison system and in my opinion, a total bada**)

Neither baby woke up, thanks to the magic of sound machines.

We spent the morning talking to police and some neighbors.  This sucked.  My poor neighbors.  At least they weren't home.

As I relayed the story to my mom, Big E started saying:

Their door got kicked in.  The door is broken.

Uh-oh, he is listening.  I better not say anything else as I don't want to frighten him, even though I'm scared out of mind.

I had a locksmith come out yesterday and he is going to build a moat and some lasers around our house to keep the Yoys safe.  Not really, but I'd totally be into that.

I'm off to peek out our front window and watch for any sketchiness.
Too bad these weren't the cops.  It would have made the situation much funnier.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

One More Yoy?

Before you all lose your minds, it's not happening.  See No More Yoys.

Last night, I was at a karaoke party.

I was chatting up one of the guys there and he whispered if congratulations were in order and pointed to my belly area.

I was mortified.

WHAT? OH NO, NO, NO.

Poor guy.  He was equally mortified.  He quickly explained that the hostess had told him one of her pregnant friends was coming over.  I guess he thought I was her.

In his defense, the dress I was wearing had an empire waist with a full volume skirt.  I guess it could be mistaken for maternity-esqe.

Also, I have a permanent pooch now where my pregnancies have stretched out my stomach/skin so that I'll never have a flat tummy again, without any surgical help, that is.  (Thanks Yoys!)

Plus, after fasting all day for the Kip, I had just eaten ten pounds of bagels, egg salad, and cookies.  I could be having a Yom Kippur baby, I guess.

How do I make this situation better?

I blurted out:

I JUST HAD A BABY!

What am I saying?  Little E just turned 14 months old. My grace period is O-V-E-R.

Maybe I'm just getting straight up fat.  Ugh.

I'm never wearing that dumb dress again.
I guess it could be worse.  People could be writing articles about my fat days.

I had a nightmare I was a brunette

I just got home from a relaxing, Sunday night, Yoy-free trip to Publix.

It was awesome.  The store was pretty much empty and I was unwinding from my day.  Yes, it is lame that shopping for food helps me unwind, but I take what I can get.

I'm in the canned veggie aisle and walking towards me was a woman with a t-shirt that read:

I HAD A NIGHTMARE I WAS A BRUNETTE

I did a double take.

Wow, this was very awkward, you see.  As I was wearing a t-shirt that read:

I HAD A NIGHTMARE I WAS IN PUBLIX AND A SKINNY BLOND WOMAN WAY TOO OLD TO BE WEARING A B*TCHY ATTITUDE T-SHIRT WALKED BY ME. (the print on the shirt is a little on the small side)

We kept passing each other as we each made our way through the store.

I started getting angry.

First of all, this is what you had a nightmare about?

Not losing your job?  Or having a family illness?  Or a terrorist attack?

But the thing that really got my goose was that she wasn't even a real blond.  She had roots.  And they were brown.

Look I'm all for hair dying.  I've never done it, but the second my grays start coming in, Mrs. Yoy will be a regular at the hair salon.  Trust me.

I wish I had had the courage to say something witty to Ms. Blond, but of course, as all these thoughts whirled around my brain, I said nothing.

Instead, I came home and wrote about it.

And I feel much better.

Thanks for listening, readers.

On my way out of Publix, I bought a Mega Millions ticket.  I was feeling lucky.  I mean, what are the chances I ran into Ms. Blond while I was wearing my t-shirt?

Thursday, October 6, 2011

And I'm Darlene...

I'm outside blowing bubbles with Big E.

He is running around, jumping up, and popping the bubbles with his hands.

There is nothing but joy on his face.  Not me. Why does this strike a chord of uncomfortable familiarity?

Then, it hits me.

Apparently, I've been watching way too many Saturday Night Lives, as all I can think of is Big E's eerie resemblance to her:
Her hands. Oy.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Buyer's Remorse

Last night, after the Yoys were down for the count, I was doing my nightly cleaning/straightening.

I walked into the kitchen.  There was my arch nemesis. Staring at me.  Mocking me.

Our glass kitchen table.  In the almost three years the Yoys have been around, this table has yet to look clean.

I wipe the table down at least once a day, and it always has little Yoy prints all over it.  On top of the CSI scene, there is the day's worth of food crusted on both the top and bottom of the glass.

Oh, how I hate you glass table.  Why did we ever buy you? At least with a wood table, the prints are camouflaged.  I guess we never imagined the mess two little people could make.

What about place mats, you ask?  Big E uses them for hats or lines them up on the floor, so they are rendered useless.

And what goes best with a glass table, why cloth chairs, of course.  Big E has taken to eating his meals sitting on his feet, backwards.  So the tops of the chairs are smeared with his food.  I really want to take the whole set and torch it in the driveway.

But, it doesn't end there.  We have a rectangle coffee table with a glass inlay.  Not only do I find finger prints, I also find lip prints (I'm not sure what is going on there) decorating the glass.  If that wasn't enough, it has lots of sharp corners and edges for the Yoys to impale themselves on.

I wish I had future Mrs. Yoy sitting on my shoulder when I picked that table out.  I would have gone round, all the way.

Anyway, we have what we have, and we really aren't in the market for redecorating.  We'll wait until the boys are done destroying everything before we buy something new.

I'm thinking 2028.

Also, I'm taking tips on keeping the glass clean.  Anyone? I'm desperate!
Damn you, table!

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Poop or Chocolate?

I regret to inform you that the two little pieces on the kitchen floor were not Hershey's Kisses.

They were Little E kisses.

Big E spotted them immediately.  Poop!  Poop!  Poop!

I bent over to take a look.  Unfortunately, Big E was correct.

Little E had a blow out while eating his lunch today.  I only noticed it once he had been let out of his highchair and made the rounds of the house.  Included in his pre-discovery activity was a trip to the mailbox on my hip.

Mrs. Yoy and the kitchen floor were part of the collateral damage.

I'm done for the day.  I've changed four nasty diapers between the two of them.

Paging Mr. Yoy!  You are needed immediately at home!
This could have gone so much better.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

He likes big butts...

This morning we met Aunt Yoy and Cousin Yoy at Goldberg's for some chow before hitting up the park for a nice walk.

As usual, Goldberg's was crowded and they sat a large party at the table next to us.  It was close quarters.

Out came our food.  Aunt Yoy and I spent the next five minutes getting everyone situated before we were able to eat.

Finally.  My breakfast.  Come to mama!

I'm shoveling my food in, as usual, and I look up to a shocking scene.

The waitress was standing with her backside to Little E while she was taking the order for the table next to us. Like I said, it was close quarters.

It was close enough that Little E was able to reach out with his T-Rex arms and firmly plant his hand on this woman's booty.  He was totally digging in and copping a feel.

LITTLE E!

I shouted at him and he jumped.  He removed his hand immediately.  The waitress laughed.  The entire table next to us laughed.  I apologized profusely for my perverted baby.

But it didn't end there.  Little E is a sensitive soul.  He does not like when I raise my voice, especially when it is directed at him.

First came the pout.  Oh no, I knew where this was heading.

Little E, Little E it is ok.  Mrs. Yoy isn't mad.  I begged, I pleaded, I soothed.

But it was too late.  Mt. Little E erupted.  Crying and screaming with a mouth full of half-eaten food.  See The Mrs. Yoy Diet Plan.

The mother at the table next to us turned around as Little E was basically screaming in her ear.  She asked me if Little E was ok given the sheer volume of food in his gaping mouth.

OH HE'S FINE, THAT'S HOW HE EATS. (I'm such a good mother, I know)

Not to be overshadowed, Big E started fake crying as well.

For real?  Can we not go anywhere without being a total freak show?  I guess not.

We packed up the Yoys and hurried out of there.  But not before I saw the waitress give her digits to Little E.

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Paging Baby Moses!

Bath time at the Yoys.

I'm going through my mental checklist of items needed:

Yoys - CHECK

Wash rags - CHECK

Fleet of bath toy boats - CHECK

Soap - CHECK

Shampoo -  CHECK

Toothbrushes - CHECK

We are in excellent shape.

I start the assembly line process of washing the boys.

Big E is playing with one of the smaller toy boats.  He looks up at me, bats his giant eyelashes, and asks...

MOM, WHERE IS BABY MOSES?

I KNEW I WAS FORGETTING SOMETHING!


The water and the tiny toy boat must have invoked memories of Passover.

We were fresh out of Baby Moseses here at the Yoys, so I asked Big E where he thought he was.

He proudly replied BM (my new nickname for him) was at school.

At least Mr. Yoy and I know we are getting our money's worth out of school.  Not only are they teaching him all about the holidays, but apparently they have a BM there.

Well done, well done.
Where is Baby Moses?