Monday, January 30, 2012

It Snot Right

Big E is snotty.

IF IT ISN'T DESIGNER, I'M NOT WEARING IT!

It would be way funnier if he was that kind of snotty.

Unfortunately for almost everything he comes into contact with, it is the kind that comes out of his nose.

Before I dive into my story, I'd like to add my professional mommy opinion about the current state of health in the ATL.  If you aren't suffering with some sort of runny nose, congestion, in my case, loss of voice, then I believe you are a robot.  The winter plague has arrived and it is in full force.

This afternoon we were hanging out in the playroom.  Big E had a good one dripping out of his nose.  I offered him up a boogie wipe.  Never heard of it?  It is a wet kleenex made for kids that smells like grapes.  They are awesome.

Big E refused.  Then he did this sketchy move where he tried to rub his nose on my sleeve.  Not HIS sleeve.  Mine. Where my arm is housed.

I quickly pulled my arm away.  I offered him another boogie wipe.  Again he refused.

Suddenly he ran his nose across my sweater and down my jeans.  I was pinned into the big fluffy chair.  I looked down to see a snot streak on my jeans.

BIG E!  THAT IS DISGUSTING!

I yelled in my meanest whisper.

He immediately started crying.

I WANT TO WIPE MY NOSE ON YOUR CLOTHES!  I WANT TO WIPE MY NOSES ON YOUR CLOTHES!

Time out.

What in the hell did I sign up for?  I'll need to talk to Mr. Yoy about getting myself a raise.

This is definitely a top five mommy skeeve out moment.

I put up with mountains of nasty mommy sh*t, but I have to say an INTENTIONAL, ACROSS THE BODY NOSE WIPE sent me over the abyss.

Big E proceeded to have a major meltdown because of my quiet scolding and I proceeded to have a bonfire in the backyard where I gladly contributed my jeans and sweater to its hungry flames.
If you look closely, you can see my cute purple sweater and skinny jeans.



Sunday, January 29, 2012

A Useless Mrs. Yoy

BIG E, YOU BETTER STOP (insert undesirable behavior here)!

I'M GOING TO COUNT TO THREE AND THEN YOU ARE ON A ONE-WAY TRIP TO TIMEOUT!

I yell this in my big, booming, scary mommy voice multiple times a day.  I have made good on my promise enough times that Big E usually stops in his tracks and pulls it together.

When did I turn into my mom, by the way?

This morning, when I awoke to my Big E alarm clock, I discovered that my raspy voice last night had developed into full blown hoarseness.

I was barely audible.

I had lost my biggest weapon in the discipline war on my kids.  

My big, booming, scary mommy voice.  I was rendered useless.

All morning, I've tried to persuade Big E to stop assaulting Little E.

Either Big E can't hear me or his isn't scared of my new, wimpy, whispering voice.

It's going to be a long day here at the Yoys.

Too bad Big E can't read.  I could grab a note pad and write him threatening notes all day.  I guess it wouldn't have the same effect.

Or maybe I could get a Stephan Hawking program and type disciplinarian phrases into my computer and let the Mac Book do the dirty work.

STOP BOTHERING YOUR BROTHER! (in the best computer voice you can imagine)

For now, I'm going to drink buttloads of tea with honey, think of creative, non-verbal ways I can communicate with my babies, and hope my voice returns ASAP.
In an unrelated note, Mr. Yoy seems to be in a good mood today.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Big E: A piece of...

I bet you thought I was going to say sh*t.

I'm not.  I love that kid and I would never utter those words about him.  Unless he deserved it.

YOU'RE A PIECE OF _______!

That's his new catch phrase.

Care to guess how the sentence ends?

The first time he said it to me I had one hand on the soap in anticipation of our first mouth wash out.  But he went a totally different way with it.

It's not very scandalous and really a tad weird.

The answer is PLASTIC.

YOU'RE A PIECE OF PLASTIC.

I have no worldly idea where he picked that up.  I'm just grateful he didn't call me the word that rhymes with pit.
There were so many better answers than plastic.  Like pie, for example.

Alvin & The (Two) Chipmunks

A few months back I purchased my first iPhone.  To say I was excited was an understatement.

I immediately started downloading apps.  Mr. Yoy figured out that if I downloaded the Spotify app (a music streaming program) we could use it to play music through the blue tooth audio in the big red bus.

This was going to be amazing for our trip down to Florida.  And it was.

Right around the time we returned from Florida, my brother and sister in law came to visit and took Big E to see Chipwrecked.  Big E loved it.

A few Saturdays back we were running some errands and Mr. Yoy pulled up the soundtrack to Chipwrecked through Spotify.

And that's when I ceased enjoying my minivan.

Every car ride now begins with Big E's demands of Alvin & the Two Chipmunks.  I don't want you to think that I let him control me, but it's hard to concentrate on driving with him in the back screaming.

I WANT ALVIN!

I WANT THE MUFFINS! (translates to the Muppets)

We don't have a DVD player, so I have to do something before I drive us off the road into the nearest river.

The only saving grace is that those pesky rodents cover the Go-Go's on their latest (meaning they have more than one we can listen to) album.  And lord knows I freaking LOVE the Go-Go's.  I'm sure Belinda Carlisle is rolling over in her coke induced coma.

So, as a compromise we listen to Vacation over and over and over again.

But it gets worse.  When I shut off the car today, the music transferred to my iPhone speaker.  Big E's eyes widened in amazement.  He now realized he could listen to Alvin wherever he was.

Tonight it was in the bathtub.

Please, oh please, make this just a passing phase.

Or else I'm going to need a V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N!

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Just Another Ho-Hum Night at the Yoys

At least I thought it was.

I was on schedule to have everyone to bed by 7.

I was going to cook dinner and blog.  Or maybe not blog, as nothing super interesting happened today.  Shocking, I know.

I had both boys in Big E's room.

Clothes were off.

Diaper was off.

Little E was playing with the police station currently housed in Big E's room.  He looked up at me and smiled.

Then he did something so amazing it brought me to tears.

He stood up.  For the first time.  On his own.  But that wasn't all.

In all his naked, baby glory he took three or four steps towards me with the biggest, proudest grin on his face.

I was so shocked.  Did that just happen?

I scooped him up and hugged him.  He clapped.

Mr. Yoy was going to be sad that he missed this.

I pulled out my phone to get a good video of him walking.  And I did.  It was priceless.

I sent it out to a few friends and family as I thought a nudie baby video on FB would be crossing the line.  I do want Little E to love me when he grows out of his momma's boy stage.

Mr. Yoy rushed home from work to see Little E walk in person.  After many failed attempts, Little E worked up enough nerve to walk a few more steps for his dad.

I'd like to point out that a week from today we have Little E's 18 month checkup that I was oh-so worried about.

When Dr. Yoy asks me if Little E is walking, I can honestly answer yes.

I am so relieved.

Thanks to Little E for getting with the walking program.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

The Roommate

Andy Samberg plays a crazy, creepy roommate on SNL (opposite my favorite teen pop idol, Justin Bieber).  If you've never seen it, check it out on Hulu.  It is HIL-ARIOUS.

I'm fairly positive I'm living with the real life roommate, Big E.

Now that his crib has been converted to a bed, I can expect to see Big E in any location at any time in the house.

It has put me on edge.  

After I put the Yoys to bed, I usually take a shower.  I'll be showering away and turn around to see Big E standing in the doorway.

HI MOMMY!

Excuse me while I restart my heart.

Tonight I was on the elliptical working off my Willy's dinner.  Big E had been in bed about 45 minutes.  I thought I was safe.

MOMMY, I HAVE TO PEE!

After I removed myself from the ceiling drywall, I look over to see Big E standing in the doorway with his tighty whities and jammies dropped around his ankles.

I stifled a laugh.

I don't know how much more of this my heart can take.

I'm already marginally uncomfortable living in my house, but now I have to worry about sneak attacks from my son.

I'm thinking of installing some sort of chime on his door when it opens.

Or maybe do something old school, like a banana peel outside Big E's door.  That should stop him in his tracks, at least it always did on Scooby-Doo.


Big E, not as scary as Andy, but just as startling.







Monday, January 23, 2012

Heads Up!

This afternoon, I was in the midst of a marathon laundry session.

I have the ability to lock all the doors upstairs to keep the Yoys where I can see them.  They only had free roam of the bonus room and their bedrooms.

I hadn't heard any whining from Little E in a few minutes, which is unusual.  I sat forward on our couch and peered down the hall.

My heart stopped.

All I could see was Little E's big head.  Not his body, just his head.  His body was hidden by the stair railing.

It was like someone left a giant cantaloupe at the top of the stairs.

I stifled a scream.

Good lord, what is wrong with him?  Why is he trying to scare the sh*t out of me?

I made a face at him to try and get a reaction.  Nothing. Radio silence.

Is he dead?

LITTLE E!  LITTLE E!

All I received in response was his intense stare.  The one he gives to strangers in the grocery store or servers at restaurants.

Um, sorry, he's not a smiley baby.  He's on his period.  Like always.

LITTLE E!  LITTLE E!

Finally, he popped up and laughed.

Please stop being creepy.  Thanks.


A reenactment of the event.  You may have a few judgy comments so let me just head that off.  Yes, I did just pull a cabbage patch kid from my closet and take a picture of exactly how Little E was positioned.  Mr. Yoy isn't usually home before 9 and I'm bored.



Friday, January 20, 2012

Mrs. Yoy: One Year and Counting

Today marks a huge milestone for the Mrs. Yoy Blog.

It is the one year anniversary of when I started writing.

To be honest, I didn't think I make it.

When I first began, I was writing solely for myself.  I was hanging by a thread and found this to be a great stress reliever.  It was a vehicle for me to release the crazy things that were happening in my life.

I wasn't too concerned that anyone was reading it, except of course, Mr. Yoy.  As I blame him for whatever horrible things our kids do.  I wanted him to fully understand what I went through on a daily basis raising the Yoys.

And a funny thing happened.  Other people started reading it, too.  And actually liking it.  And providing comments and feedback.  I found myself connecting to people I hadn't really talked to in years.  In some cases strangers, too.

I lost that feeling of isolation that I sometimes crept in while spending the majority of my time with two little kids.  It was wonderful.

So I thought I'd link up some of my favorite posts of the past year.  We could all use a laugh or at least some confirmation that at least you don't have to spend eternity with these kids.

Need a good scare?

Need a good cry?

Need a good laugh?

Need to feel embarrassed?

Need to feel solid in your decision to not be a parent?

Need to feel fat?

Need to feel like a bad parent?

I want to thank all of my readers for being so supportive and I hope I can continue to give everyone a good laugh.

I'm sure 2012 will be full of a whole lotta crazy!

Big E taking a moment of reflection.  He's probably scheming up all sorts of trouble.




Thursday, January 19, 2012

My Mathlete

I love math.  I love numbers.  I have ever since I was a child.

It is tres nerdy, I know.  But it explains my career of choice, accounting.

Really, it was either accounting or an actuary, and I went with accounting because you had to take less certifying exams.

I love math, but I also love laziness.

I love math so much I actually use algebra pretty regularly to solve problems.

I love math so much I can't wait for my kids to bring their math homework to me so I can complete it, errr, I mean help them out.

Which brings me to the point of today's blog.

I picked up some Thomas the Train counting and numbers flashcards in the $1 bin at Target.  Big E loves anything Thomas, so I figured he'd enjoy all of the pictures.

Over the past two days those cards haven't left his sight. He even brought them to gymnastics with him today.

NO, TEACHER, I CAN'T DO A SOMERSAULT, BUT 2+2=4!

This evening he wanted to sleep with them.  The idea of 50 flashcards crumpled up in Big E's bed made me anxious, so I made a deal with him.

I let him keep one.

When I put him to bed, he was not curled up with one of his stuffed buddies like duck, or other duck, or other other duck.

He was curled up with a flashcard.

My heart flipped inside of my chest.

He is going to make an awesome mathlete one day!

I couldn't be happier!
A little trigonometry humor for all my fellow nerds.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The countdown has begun...

Two weeks from tomorrow I take Little E in for his 18 month check-up.

It seems harmless enough, unless your child is Little E.

My pediatrician has already fired the warning shot.  Little E must be walking when he comes back for his 18 month check-up.  If not, it is off to physical therapy we go.

SURE, NO PROBLEM.  IT'LL HAPPEN.  BIG E DIDN'T WALK UNTIL WELL INTO HIS 17TH MONTH.

So here we are.  Seventeen months and some change.

Little E cruises.  Sometimes he lets go of whatever he is holding onto and stands unassisted for a few fleeting moments before he registers a look of panic and reaches out for the closest piece of furniture or wall.

I spend hours pacing the carpeted halls upstairs with him. He self propels his little chubbers and he is so proud of himself.  He's just not THERE yet.

Look, I have nothing against physical therapy.  I think it can be very helpful.  I do have something against monster medical bills and I'm SURE PT is not covered under our insurance.

Now, there is no need to start a political debate about the state of disrepair our healthcare system finds itself.  I'm just stating a fact.  The Yoys will be out of pocket for every dollar we spend.  And we don't have deep pockets.

Which is why I'd like to defend my baby.  I think he is perfectly fine.  He is just fat and a tad lazy.  I believe he has the ability to walk and when he finally finds the right motivation, he'll do it.

A Peep cake!  All the motivation I'd need.




Monday, January 16, 2012

The Tub Hug

Only a mere six hours earlier, I blogged about how terrible my kids behaved in their music class.

I had given up hope on the Yoys.  I was in it for eternity with two rotten eggs.  Too bad for me.  I was wallowing in my own pity.

But that is the thing about your kids.  They will drive you to the edge of insanity.  You will wonder what you were thinking trying to be a parent.  You clearly do not have the skill set for this occupation.

Then, they do something wonderful.

Tonight it was bath time.  Usually this consists of a half hour of me yelling at Big E to stop trying to drown his brother, while Little E screams bloody murder.  I have actually looked at the bathroom window and thought to myself:

WILL I FIT THROUGH THIS IF I TRY TO JUMP?

The Yoys were splashing each other and cackling.  They were maniac laughing.  It was contagious.  I began laughing, too.  It was a definite party in this tub.

Once their little T-Rex arms wore out, Little E started scooting towards Big E and he opened his arms and hugged him.  And Big E hugged him back.  And they embraced for a few seconds.

I teared up.

I'm lame, I know.

It just made me so happy and it was just about the sweetest thing ever.

And just like that.

I love my kids again.

And I'm filled with hope that maybe two decent men will evolve from these babies.

The Yoys having a sweet brother moment.


Today I was that mom. With those kids.

This morning was Little E's weekly music class.  Big E tagged along as he did not have school today.  I was praying that the Yoys would behave.  PRAYING.

We arrived at class and Big E seemed pleased to be there.  I had already threatened him during our drive over.

Things were going well.  Even Little E, who is sometimes cranky for class, was engaged.

Ok.  We are going to do this and I'm going to survive.

Obviously, this would not be an interesting blog if that is how the class continued going.

Fortunately for you, Big E was there, which means the class unraveled into the ultimate catastrophe.

As we sang and danced and hopped around, Big E started getting that crazy twinkle in his eyes.  He was wound up. Here we go...

First he took out a little boy around Little E's age.  I saw him running at him with his elbow out and knock him down.  Cheese and crackers!  Big E!

I apologized to his mom and made Big E apologize to the poor sweet boy who was probably mistaken for the intended target, Little E.  He wasn't crying, so that was a good sign.

Out came the balls.  Big E grabbed his and bit into it like a dog.  He shook his head back and forth while gripping the ball with his teeth.

Who is this animal?

Then came the scarves.  Big E used them to try and suffocate Little E.  Good thing they are made of breathable material.

I HAVE TO PEE!  I HAVE TO PEE!

I grab his arm and lead him to the bathroom.  Little E looks up at me with such panic.

ARE YOU LEAVING ME ALONE ON THE FLOOR?

Little E starts to cry.  I pick him up, too.  We are all going to the bathroom.

Usually, I don't allow Little E to crawl around on the floor of a bathroom, but I had no place for him.  I had that wild, desperate, insane look on my face.  The last thing I want is for Big E to have an accident.

Big E sat on the big toilet and refused to use it.  Ugh, really?

We got dressed and headed back out to the mayhem.

As we sat in a circle, Little E stood at the front door.  I guess he was done.

Big E came running at me from across the room.  As he attempted to tackle me, he whispered "kill!"

The mother sitting next to me asked me how far apart the Yoys were in age.

To me, this translated to:

YOU HAVE NO CONTROL OVER YOUR CHILDREN.

Which, by the way, I'm aware of.

I HAVE TO PEE!  I HAVE TO PEE!

Again, we rush to the bathroom.  All of us.  Again, no action.

We head back out to the music.

For Big E's final demonstration of love for his brother, he steamrolled him in the middle of the group circle.  For everyone to see.  Little E started crying.  I crawled in and grabbed him.

Why is it that my kids are always the worst?

It's not that I don't discipline my kids.  I do.  Big E spends about half his day in time-out.

There is just something about Big E being around other kids and having an audience, it absolutely sets him off.  It is incredibly frustrating for me.

It's days like these that make me want to send Big E to school five days a week.  And aftercare.  And beforecare, if that existed.
Big E's latest portrait



Saturday, January 14, 2012

Yoy Missile Crisis

I was attempting to get Big E to clean up his toy area upstairs.  In a period of 20 minutes he had dumped the majority of it on the floor.

Big E, clean up all of your toys.

READ TO ME! (nerd)

Not until you put everything back.

With ice cold blood running through his veins, he looked me right in the eyes, pulled his submarine out of the bin, and walked it over to the ottoman.

He didn't blink once as he fired off two missiles from his submarine.  He just stared at me.

Oh, how I wish those were real missiles and I could launch them at you.





Friday, January 13, 2012

I feel like I've got a newborn

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I am tired today.

Big E came into our room around 3:30 to tell me his sound machine turned off.  Stupid electrical short!

Yes, he still has a sound machine and I'm reluctant to stop using it.  

We can fire off bombs, host a rave, or even a barking poodle and my kids don't hear a thing.

I escort him back to his room, but not before a quick pit stop to the potty.  I tuck him back in and that is the end of him.  For now.

For me, it is a different story.  I am not that person that can fall in and out of sleep.  It takes me a good half an hour to go back to sleep if I am awoken in the middle of the night.

I finally find the sleep I desperately need.

But I hear the footsteps again.  I play dead.  Maybe if I don't move, he'll go back to his room and leave me to my dreams.  I feel his hot breath on my face.

MOMMY!  I'M SCARED IN MY ROOM!

He climbs into bed with us.  He lays between his exhausted parents.  I look over at the clock.  6:27.

I try to go back to sleep, but I know he is staring at me.  I can feel it.  

I open one eye.  He smiles.  Sh*t.  Never make eye contact! That is rule number one.

He starts whispering.  It sounds like some sort of satanic verse.  This makes sense, as currently I view him as Satan.

This lasts for about 20 minutes before I ask him to either go back to bed, play in his bedroom, or go downstairs to the playroom.

He wants to go to his playroom.

He slides off the bed and heads out.

Ah, silence.

Five minutes later he returns.

I'M SCARED OF MY PLAYROOM.

Ugh.  He's back in bed.

Mr. Yoy abandons us and heads out to the couch for some "restful" sleep.

I HEAR LITTLE E!

He goes running down the hall.  He returns, flips on my light, and throws two sticker books on my head.  I guess it is time to do stickers.

I HAVE TO PEE!

I wave my white flag.  Ok, I surrender.  I'm up.

IT'S DAYTIME?

I'm rethinking this whole freedom thing.  I don't think there is enough caffeine on the planet that can help me overcome my exhaustion.

Suggestions?
Hello, friend.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

The Human Snooze Button

MOMMY, I HAVE TO PEE!

I roll over and look at the clock.

6:30.

Not my most favorite time to wake-up, but given Big E was sleeping by 7 last night, I can't fault him for having to go to the bathroom.

I drag myself out of bed and walk him to the bathroom.

He does his business and then I tell him that it is still the middle of the night (slight exaggeration) and that Mommy is going to back to sleep.  He is welcome to go back to sleep or to play quietly in his room.

Shockingly, he opts to stay up and play.  I turn on his bedroom light and close his door.

I make my way back to my nice, warm bed.  I'm hoping to get another hour of quietness.  I doze in and out of sleep. I'm half listening for Big E.

MOMMY, MY CRAYON IS BROKEN!

MOMMY, THERE IS A DOG UNDER MY BED!

MOMMY, I NEED NEW PAPER!

MOMMY, I'M HUNGRY.

MOMMY, THE STOCK MARKET FUTURES ARE DOWN (I made this up, I just figured if he was going to be reporting news, it may as well be useful).

Like clockwork, Big E made an appearance in our bedroom about every ten minutes to announce some breaking news.

I look up at the clock.

7:20.

I'm so tired.  Why do I feel so hungover?  I'm not ready for this day to begin.

Mr. Yoy tells Big E to head downstairs and get something to eat.

We hear him make his way down to the pantry.  The door opens.  The door slams shut.  Once. Twice. Three times.  What in the hell is he doing?

I hear him approaching our bedroom.  Mr. Yoy called it correctly.  Big E brought up an entire package of applesauce.

He laid it in the bed and then went back downstairs for a spoon.

We laughed.

This kid is such a trip.

He was about 1/3 of his way into his first container of applesauce before he spilled it all over the bedroom carpet.

I looked at the clock again.

7:45.

Mrs. Yoy reporting for duty.
No need for an alarm clock with Big E around.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Post Baby Bod

This phrase makes me cringe.

Today's entry isn't about something specific the Yoys did, except maybe ruin my body.

I was on People.com today getting my daily dose of brain rot, and I came across a picture of actress Keri Russell. She was ten days post baby delivery and out on the street looking carefree and happy.

Good for her.  Maybe she just ingested 27 gallons of caffeine and was able to put herself together, shower, and take a walk.

But the little news blurb wasn't about her being out and about.  It was about her "slender post-baby bod."

I hate this sh*t.  I know I shouldn't read it, but it just infuriates me that it is out there.  That people actually are writing about how this woman looks flipping fantastic less than two weeks after she gave birth.

I wish I looked this good before I ever had kids and was in the best shape of my life.  But, I didn't.

But she's an actress.  And she probably has a chef.  And a trainer.  And a nanny.  And a wet nurse.  And a night nurse.

It doesn't matter.

As a new mother, you are an emotional train wreck. You've gone through the most traumatic, yet wonderful, event of your life.

You are not sleeping.

You are not showering.

You have hemorrhoids.

You are afraid to go to the bathroom.

You have the mother of all periods.

You have to feed an alien 24/7.

You have five minutes of free time to poke around the internet and you stumble across a picture of skinny Keri Russell and you burst into tears.

You wonder if she is wearing a full body spanx, as it doesn't seem anatomically possible that this woman just gave birth.

I remember a few weeks after Little E was born, I escaped to the nail salon to get some much needed pampering.  The lady doing my nails asked me when I was due.

I snapped back at her that I just had a baby.  But I couldn't be mad.  I really did look about 5 months pregnant.  This sucked.  As I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I held back tears.

And let's not forget about this guy.

I'm not trying to hate on Keri Russell.  Good for her for looking awesome.

I just hate how the media makes such a big deal out of it.

Cut all of us new(ish) mommies some slack.  Let us enjoy our new babies AND a Willy's burrito.

I will now step down from my soap box.

Thanks for listening.


I am too embarrassed to post a picture of me ten days post delivery.  I look like a meth addict.








Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Big E, Big Helper

Today I ran to Costco without the Yoys.

Oh, the freedom to just aimlessly roam the aisles without the Yoys barking orders (or in Little E's case, screaming).

I picked up some shampoo as we were running dangerously low.

When I got home, Big E came out to the garage to help me unload my car.  He loves to help out, although most of the items are too heavy for him.  I appreciate the effort, nonetheless.

Not to be excluded from any activity, Little E parked himself at the entrance to the house and screamed bloody murder the entire time Big E and I unloaded the big red bus.  It was unnerving.

I handed Big E the shampoo and told him to place it on the kitchen counter.

I ran back out to the garage and brought in the remaining groceries, 47 pounds of berries.

Fast forward to Mrs. Yoy shower time.  Both Yoys are sleeping (I hope) and I'm ready to have a peaceful few minutes to myself.

I'm going to pop open my new bottle of shampoo and take a great shower.

Speaking of which, where is that bottle of shampoo?  I ransack the kitchen.  I check the car again, even though I swear Big E carried it in.

RED ALERT. RED ALERT.

Big E CARRIED it into the house.  It could be anywhere. This is, of course, one of my favorite games to play.

I usually play alone after the boys are asleep.

After what I consider a very thorough search of the downstairs portion of our house, I give up.  I'm too tired to continue my search.  I'll just scrape together the remnants of our current shampoo bottle and resume the search tomorrow.

I flip on the lights to our bathroom.

And there it was.

My shampoo.

Sitting on the tub.

I smiled.

Oh, how I love my son.
I didn't even notice him carrying the shampoo up the stairs.  What a good helper!

Monday, January 9, 2012

Short Guy, Tall Tale

This afternoon I took Big E to his pediatrician for his three year check-up.

This is a place I loathe entering during the winter months.

It is an incubator for some of the nastiest stuff I've ever seen/heard.  If it were socially acceptable to put my children in hazmat suits for the occasion, I would.

I'm not saying my kids aren't ever nasty ill, because they are.  It is just exponentially worse when it is some stranger's nasty ill kid coughing in your face.

We had the first appointment after lunch, so the waiting room was deserted.  I felt pretty good about that, although I could almost see the virus and cold germs crawling over everything I touched.

MUST. WASH. HANDS.

Big E was parked in front of the fish tank.  He was counting the fish and rattling off the colors and acting like an overall smarty pants.  Now would be a GREAT time for the waiting room to be full of people so they could all see how intelligent my kid was.

In walks a sweet little girl with her mom.  She is a little younger than Big E.  Her mom pulls a chair over to the tank so she can stand eye to eye with the fish.

Big E now has an audience.  He can't contain himself.

THESE FISHES WILL BITE YOU!

My eyes about popped out of my head.

The little girl glanced uneasily back at her mom.

THESE FISHES WILL BITE YOU!

What in the hell is he talking about?

I calmly explain to both kids that these fish do not bite people.

I check my watch.  Please call us back before Big E makes another ridiculous declaration.

THESE FISHES WILL BITE YOU!

Seriously.  Call us back.  Now.  Before we scar this sweet little girl and she never wants to go to the Georgia Aquarium again.
What Big E thought he saw swimming in the tank at the doctor's office.
What Big E actually saw swimming in the tank at the doctor's office.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

I wish I was making this stuff up

I promise, I do not intentionally put myself into situations that I think will produce juicy blog material.

Tonight, we thought it would be a keen idea to head to Jim-n-Nick's for an early dinner.  So far so good.  It's the details that always bury me.

We had six adults and four kids (all in highchairs). Except they were one highchair short, so Big E was relegated to a booster seat.  (Key ominous music).

What's that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach? Oh, it's just the unshakable feeling that dinner was going to be a world-class disaster.

And. It. Was.

The key to an enjoyable time with Big E is containment.

Whether it be in a shopping cart, highchair, or stroller, as long as he is locked and loaded, I have the upper hand. This is my only weapon.  Without containment, I'm dead.

I placed Big E in his booster seat.  He eyes the delicious muffins the server placed in front of him.  I tell him to go ahead.  He begins his muffin bender.  He is quiet and I feel myself starting to relax.

As our friends begin arriving, Big E gets excited.  I can't blame him.  I love our friends, too.  But it is just too much for my three year old.

He begins to slide down out of his seat.  I lean over, grab his elbow, and threaten that we are going to leave if he doesn't stay put.  This works for the time being, but he is hot to get out of his seat and properly greet all of his friends.

I roll my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh as he slinks his way down to the floor.  He is under the table.

But he is quiet, and aside from the occasional leg rub, he isn't bothering anyone.  In fact, he is entertaining Baby S.

He makes his way to the other end of the table and crawls out.  Now he IS in the way.

We ask him to sit back in his seat.

Of course, he politely refuses.

Mr. Yoy grabs his arm and takes him to the car.  They sit out there for about 15 minutes while Big E calms down.

The food arrives and Mr. Yoy and Big E come back to the table.  Big E picks at his dinner, although I'm not surprised, given the amount of muffins he put down when we first walked in.

Big E and Little E begin to fight over crayons.  Big E wants to get up.  I, again, explain that if he can't sit, we are leaving.  I count to three.  He ignores me.

I grab the keys, Big E's arm and we are out the door...again.  And this time for good.  We wait out the remainder of the meal in the car.

After reading this you are probably thinking, well that sounds horrible.

But that wasn't really the bad part.

He had a Grade-A, full-on, ape-sh*t meltdown once I strapped him in the car.  It lasted about twenty minutes.

I'M HUNGRY! I'M HUNGRY!  I WANT TO EAT DINNER!  I'M HUNGRY!

I ignore him.  I know he just wants to go back inside.  He ate enough bread to survive for about three days without another meal.

He fluttered his legs back and forth like he was trying to swim his way out of his car seat.

Good lord, where is Mr. Yoy?

Big E is crying, sweating, kicking.

MOMMY!  MOMMY!  MOMMY!

I turn the lights on and glance at him in the rear view mirror.

How is this little monster my sweet baby boy?  When did this happen?  How can I have such conflicting feelings of love/hate/frustration/anger/sympathy all at once?

I HAVE TO PEE!

What a manipulator!  I ask him if he really has to go.  He does.

I pull him out of his car seat and he makes on his portable potty.  I'm mildly impressed that he expressed the need to use the potty in the middle of his Academy Award winning performance.

I'M SLEEPY!  I WANT TO DRIVE HOME!

Mr. Yoy and Little E make their way to the car.  It begins to rain.

As we head towards home, Big E makes small talk in an attempt to extend an olive branch.

IT'S RAINING!

LOOK, THERE'S DADDY'S BUILDING!

THERE ARE THREE GAS STATIONS!

THE LIGHT IS GREEN!

Even though I'm disgusted by his behavior, I feel a smile creeping onto my face.  I realize what he is trying to do. Mr. Yoy implores me to stay strong.

Once we are home, bed and bath time are pretty uneventful.  As Mr. Yoy and I tucked Big E in for the night, I leaned over to kiss him good night.

He looked at me with his angelic face and said in his hoarse voice:

MOMMY, I'M SORRY I WENT UNDER THE TABLE.

And just like that.  He had me wrapped around his little finger.  Again.

I can never stay mad at him.  I try.  But I can't.  I love him too much.

Friday, January 6, 2012

Enormosaurus

Always on the lookout for a sale, I located a rack of sleepers at Babiesrus for $6.99.  It's like they were practically GIVING them away.

For those of you that have never been in the market for baby pajamas, you will be disgusted to hear that such stores as Gymboree has the balls to sell them for $20 and up. 

Out of principle, I refuse to purchase pajamas there.  I think it is highway robbery.

So there I am, face to face with a giant rack of sale jammies.  My heart rate began accelerating.  I've hit the mother lode. 

Big E is pretty set on jammies.  Little E is a different story.  The fleece sleepers that were handed down from Big E haven't been working for Little E.  They make his skin break out, shocking, I know.

I'm always on the hunt for a fuller fitting jammie.  Most of them are cut "skinny", which is discriminating to the larger boned toddlers, like Little E.

Oooooh, look at these cute dinosaur themed pajamas! They even say ENORMOSAURUS on the front, perfect for Little E.

I pulled them off the rack.  JACKPOT!  They weren't slim fitting, they were perfect.  To be on the safe side, I bought him a 2T.  He is currently 17 months and not tall.  At. All.

Tonight, as I was sliding on Little E's new pajamas, I rejoiced at how easy they slid over his fat arms.

We moved to the legs.  Well, these were definitely long enough.  Not that I was worried. 

As I zipped up the leg I hit a major speed bump, or as it is anatomically known, his thigh.  

While the new jammies were fuller cut, they were not stretchy, and stretchy is key.  I tried to move the zipper over Little E's fat rolls, but I was worried I'd catch some skin.  

As I pulled the two sides of the fabric together, I conceded the battle.  Even if I WERE able to zip this thing up, Little E would probably lose blood circulation to his leg in about seven minutes.

Ugh.  I give up.  Seven dollars is not worth it.  I stripped him down and started over.

The irony was not lost on me.

My kid can't fit into the ENORMOSAURUS jammies.


Anyone not impressed by Little E's legs is a liar.  



Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Alexander: Latest Mrs. Yoy book review

When I was home a few weeks ago, I grabbed some of my old children's books to bring back to Atlanta.

They brought back great bedtime memories for me with my folks and grandparents.

One of the books, Alexander, is about a misbehaving horse.

I opened the book up and saw my name written neatly in the corner (by my mom, of course).  Not to be outdone, I had taken crayons and pencil and scribbled all inside the front and back covers.  Now I know where Big E gets THAT from.

As Big E snuggled up next to me, I began to read.

I was shocked to see that in the story, the little boy's father smokes a smelly pipe for the duration of the story.  In every illustration, he's got a tight grip on that thing.

As was the case in Make Way for Ducklings, I immediately checked the publishing date.

1964.

Ah, that explains it.

I have no problem reading the book to Big E.  My parents read it to me and I certainly don't walk around smoking a pipe all day.

Although, I'd be way cooler if I did.

I just find it interesting to see how we have evolved.  That would never fly in a children's book written today.

OK, I'm done writing for tonight.
My copy isn't this well preserved.  It looks like I may have eaten the spine at some point.

Pushing my luck?

You are aware of my trifecta of Big E to-dos that have been hanging over my head for months:

1) Transitioning him from the crib
2) Toilet training
3) Thumb sucking

Toilet training is going really well.

I feel like, if he can now go sit on his potty when he feels the urge, he needs to be able to get out of his crib to do so.

So I bought a safety rail that hooks onto his crib.  It is a baby step between the crib and a real bed.

When Big E saw the box, he was much more interested in assembling this, than his train table.  Which, by the way, we were officially going to open this afternoon after a month of torture.

As I pulled out the screws attaching the front of his crib many thoughts went through my mind.

AM I FLIPPING CRAZY?

Screw #1 gone

THIS KID IS GOING TO BE CLIMBING IN AND OUT OF BED UNTIL THE SUN COMES UP.

Screw #2 gone

BEDTIME WILL GO FROM 20 MINUTES TO 2 HOURS AND I'LL NEED SUPERNANNY TO COME AND FIX THE MESS I'VE MADE.

Screw #3 gone

AM I TRYING TO MAKE MYSELF AN ALCOHOLIC?

I took a deep breath.  This is it.  Am I really doing this?

I looked over at Big E and his eyes were shining with excitement.

Holy crap, I'm going to regret this forever.

Screw #4 gone

And with that, it was done.  Big E climbed onto his crib mattress and began jumping away.

NO MORE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED!

I deserve everything I get.  I'm crazy for trying to do both at the same time.

I managed to assemble and attach the railing even with both Yoys pulling on the rail, part of the old crib, and my hair.  I'm living in a madhouse.

Fast forward to bedtime.

Oh, I hope he buys into the system.  Big E has his bath, some books, and it was showtime.

He climbed in and I tucked him in like usual.  It's been about 45 minutes and I haven't heard a peep.

I'm praying he stays in bed tonight.

But if not, I'll take my lumps.

I need to get him one of these.  Then he'd never want to get out of bed.

Big E's first public outing in the potty trained era

Big E started back at school this morning.

I was crazy nervous for him.  His teacher was in the loop on his progress and I felt very confident in her ability to lead him through the day.

I sent two extra pairs of underwear and pants with him.

As he left for school in his skinny jeans, I prayed he'd still be wearing them the next time I saw him.

I tried to keep my mind off what was going on at school.

Was he walking around pants-less, peeing wherever he deemed fit?

MOST LIKELY, NOT.

Was he crying because he was afraid of the real, although miniature, toilet?

THAT MIGHT HAPPEN.

Are his classmates teasing him about it?

DOUBT IT.

But, still, the anticipation was killing me.

I was so anxious as I navigated the hills and curves of Peachtree Battle.  I pulled into school, hopped out of my car and went to retrieve Big E.

I saw him running towards me.

MOMMY!

It was like a scene from a movie, slow-mo and all.  And, he was wearing his skinny jeans.  I was ecstatic.

I asked Teacher Yoy about his day.

She had taken him to the bathroom multiple times, but he refused to go.

This kid had held his bladder for over four hours.

I've got to say, now that I've been pregnant twice, I cannot hold my bladder longer than two hours.  I was super impressed with Big E.

But he wasn't going to get a pass from me.  I immediately sat him on the portable potty I now keep in my car.  He refused to go, even with some encouraging words from our Rabbi.

This was putting a wrench in our lunch plans with Mr. Yoy.  He was crying to go home.  I think he wanted to use the bathroom there.  I didn't give in, even though I knew I was taking a huge gamble.

I drove to Mr. Yoy's office and put Big E back on the potty while we waited for Mr. Yoy to come downstairs.

I promised him the moon, but Big E refused to go.

Mr. Yoy came down and joined in on the cheerleading.  He was desperate enough to make a "sssssssssssssssssss" sound.  It freaking worked!  Big E went.  We rejoiced! Passers-by probably thought we had just won the lottery. Parenting is clearly making us insane.

Since we are new to all this, we had no idea how to dispose of the urine.  We sat there for a few minutes trying to figure out the appropriate means.

I finally dumped it on the grass, as I prayed no one was watching, judging.

What if next time there is no grass?  Ugh, I'll worry about that later.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch.  No accidents and lots of bathroom time.

Which leads into what I decided to do next...
The newest person I'm hauling around in the big red bus these days.  I call him Bjorn.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Let's wrap up the potty training blog trilogy (hopefully!)

Day three of self-imposed potty training quarantine.

I was delighted that the weather was awful.  I was not the least bit tempted to run errands.  The thought of bundling up the Yoys and taking them in and out of the car was completely unappealing, especially after last week's grocery fiasco.

Instead, we cranked the heat and prepared for day three of non-stop Toy Story 3 and a butt load of candy.

Big E continued to kick some toilet training a**.  He had no accidents and was regularly using his potty.

Our neighbors even dropped by to say hello and I was able to interrogate her about all things concerning the process.

My shining, proud mommy moment of the day came after dinner.

I was skyping with my parents and I had the computer over by Little E while he was semi-eating some pretzel M&Ms.

Big E was over by his art easel drawing.

I MADE A PEE, MOMMY!

What?

I panicked.  He was doing so well today.  Ugh, come on Big E!  I ran over to him prepared to assess the liquid damage.

He did, in fact, make a pee.  Except it wasn't in his pants, it was drawn on his art easel.  In three year old handwriting, he had scrawled the letter "P".

WHEW!  I felt a pang of guilt for ever doubting that little guy.

I chuckled as I walked back over to Little E to continue skyping with my mom.  Too bad Big E is too young to understand what a funny moment we just had.

My mom and I watched in awe as Little E sucked all the chocolate off the pretzel M&Ms and then spit out the soggy pretzel piece.  Impressive, by the way.

MOMMY, I MADE DIRTS!

WHAT?

I hadn't even seen him go over to his potty.  I ran over there and sure enough, he had done his daily BM.

I congratulated him.  I hugged him.  I was so proud.

He didn't even tell me he had to go, he just did it.

Tomorrow is Big E's first day back at school.  I'm praying he will go on the mini-toilets there.

In any event, I'm sending 42 pairs of clean undies and an equal amount of sweatpants.

I'll check back in tomorrow and let you know how it went.
Nowhere on this sign do I see Toy Story 3.

Monday, January 2, 2012

"Toy"let Story 3

Big E received a copy of Toy Story 3 for Chanukah this year.  He didn't actually gain possession of it until Friday night when we had dinner with Aunt and Uncle Yoy.

Since that time, he has watched the movie approximately 12 times.  I find this amazing that he can watch the same thing over and over and over again.

I wonder if this is how my parents felt towards my affinity for the Grease and Grease 2 (yes, I said Grease 2) movies as a child.  I, too, would watch them on repeat.

Today's Toy Story 3 final count was 4 showings.  Normally, I'd be abhorred at myself for allowing Big E to watch this much television.

But he loves to sit on his potty and watch the movie.  Mr. Yoy dubbed the movie "Toy"let Story.

I am happy to report that Big E made on the potty all day.  I was so proud of him, I could hardly contain myself.

I gave him a ton of candy and other crap, that again, I normally don't have in the house.  All rules fly out the window when it comes to toilet training.  As the novelty of all day candy and movies dies down, we'll move on to more enticing bribery such as ponies and possibly cars.

The only major challenge we had today was to get him to have a BM.  He goes at least once a day, so after dinner when he still hadn't gone, I was getting a tad worried.

I didn't want him to hold it in and make himself sick and I didn't want him to do it after I put him to bed.

So I stole a page from neighbor Yoy's playbook.  I remember her telling me she'd run her daughter around before bedtime to get her to go to the bathroom.

I told Big E to run some laps around the kitchen.

I'M RUNNING AROUND LIKE A MANIAC, MOMMY!

That's my boy!  What a good listener.

He came back over to his toilet and I sat him down. Within two minutes, it was all over.

I am feeling so, so, so relieved at the progress we have made over the past two days.  I actually feel like this is doable.

This is a complete turnaround as compared to yesterday when I was convinced he'd be in diapers FOREVER.

Thanks to everyone for their encourage words, stories, ideas, and support!

Next up on my list of things to fret about (I wouldn't be a mom if I didn't have one):
1) Convincing him to use a real toilet instead of his training toilet
2) Coordinating public restroom use with both Yoys in tow
3) Nightime bathroom trips

Again, I'll take any advice I can get.  You guys are my greatest resource!  Thanks!
I'm so proud of Big E!

Sunday, January 1, 2012

$1,000 well spent

This is the amount that Mr. Yoy and I feel comfortable paying a specialist to come and toilet train our son.

Today was brutal.  We surrender.  Can't you see us waving our white flag?

Anyway, both boys are finally asleep.  I am decompressing in the beautiful sound of silence.

Some highlights of the day include not leaving the house.

I was allotted a whole 12 minutes of alone time, including bathroom breaks.

My shower time was interrupted by a flustered Mr. Yoy. He was waving what I like to call his "panic hands" as he stormed into the shower and briskly told me to hurry up.

For the record, I hadn't washed my hair in two days. Can't a girl get some good hair conditioning time? Apparently, the answer is NO.

Little E had a bomb in his diaper and Big E had tinkled all over Mr. Yoy's office.  I guess Mr. Yoy tried to carry him to the toilet so there was a trail of urine from his office to the potty.

Oy.  Disaster.  Also, mildly funny.

Especially after I told Mr. Yoy, who was lounging on the couch watching football during my shower time, that he had to keep asking Big E if he had to go to the bathroom.

Mr. Yoy left around 3 this afternoon to go to the Falcons game.  This left me alone.  With two terrorists.

One wouldn't nap.

One couldn't remember if he had to go to the bathroom.

BIG E, DO YOU HAVE TO GO PEE PEE ON THE POTTY?

I repeated myself over and over and over and over again. When did I become this annoying?

There were some successes.

I was able to get Big E to use the toilet multiple times including a giant poop.  He was so surprised he "made dirt"!  So was I!

He also didn't barf from the 10 lbs of crap he ingested during the day-long bribery candyfest.
 
I'm exhausted from being on code red alert all day.  No dozing in the playroom chair for this mom.

The worst part is, I have to get up and do it all again tomorrow.  I'm hoping Big E doesn't regress overnight and start messing up our floors again tomorrow.

For those of you that have gone through this with your kids, I find you amazing.  This is the most trying thing Big E and I have done together, aside from birthing him.

For those of you that have this on the horizon, I empathize with your anxiety and dread surrounding the process.

For those of you without kids, this could be a deal breaker.

Wish me luck for tomorrow!
Do they mean my tears or my kid's?

2012: Up for the challenge!

Big E is not back at school until Wednesday, January 4th.

As much as I'm dreading the process, I decided to try potty training again.

We are in lock down mode.  Big E is wearing his undies. Let me correct myself.  Big E is wearing his 4th pair of undies since I took him out of his crib around 8 this morning.

In case you don't have a clock nearby, it is 11:45.  And in case you don't have a calculator nearby, that is an average of about a pair of undies an hour.

I have cleaned up three giant floods so far.

Big E has made a few drips in his little potty, but for the most part he still hasn't grasped the concept of using the toilet.

I WANT MY DIAPER!  I WANT MY DIAPER!  I WANT MY DIAPER!

Currently, he is sitting on his potty in front of the TV, like every man's dream.

I am pumping him full of juice tinted water.

What I need to be doing is pumping myself full of chardonnay.  That'll be later, I'm sure of it.

I just checked his potty and it was actually full of pee.

Yay!  M&Ms for everyone, including Mrs. Yoy.

Keep us in your thoughts today.  I'll keep you posted on our progress.


Watching Toy Story 3 for the second time today.