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Showing posts from April, 2012

Mrs. Yoy: Rocking a Neckbrace

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Little E snuck a toy car into his crib with him when I put him down for a nap this afternoon.

About twenty minutes into his nap, I heard him screaming.  This is pretty unusual for nap time, so I ran upstairs to see what the ruckus was about.

His car had fallen out the back of the crib and was lodged between the crib and the wall.

This kid was mad and this mommy needed him to be sleeping.  So I laid down on the floor and stretched my long-a** arms under his crib to try and retrieve his car.

In the process, I pulled a muscle in my neck.  I'm not being dramatic here.  I can barely turn my head from side to side.

I'm like Joan Cusack in her 16 Candles appearance.  I am H-U-R-T-I-N-G.

I curled up next to his crib.  My neck was throbbing.

To add insult to injury, I banged my head on a toy train also lurking near the crib.  Ouch.

Little E continued his screaming tirade.

I had to reach this stupid car if it was the last thing I ever did.

I repositioned myself on my belly and stretch…

Maybe he'll be a stripper?

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Big E has a major problem.

He loses the ability to pull up his undies and pants if he senses me within a 25 foot radius.

I've heard that when he uses the bathroom at school he will pull his pants up.

At home, I have yet to see this phenomenon.  Big E shuffles into our bedroom every night for me to pull his pants up post restroom and tuck him back in.  I might as well have a newborn at the rate of interrupted sleep I'm getting.

His pants "issues" have led to innocent people being flashed by my three year old.  He is indiscriminate when it comes to his audience.  Last week it was the Scott's Lawn guy.

After school today, Big E was running around in the big grassy space outside our synagogue.

I watched as his hand repeatedly grabbed his crotch.

Excuse me, when did I give birth to the second coming of Michael Jackson?

BIG E!  DO YOU HAVE TO USE THE BATHROOM?

Of course he said he didn't.  He was too busy running wild with his friends for an inconvenient bathroom …

Beware of Yoys

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I was just wrapping up dinner when I heard that dreadful noise.

DING-DONG!  DING-DONG!

The doorbell.

And two quick rings at that.  Like someone was anxious.

This was it.  They were here to rob and kill us.  Of course, I answered the door because I have to let them know the house is occupied.  That's my strategy.

Today's mystery door bell ringer was the Scott's Lawn guy.  He was thankfully not here to rob and kill us.

He probably thought it was the other way around once I opened the door.

Poodle Yoy was doing her best exorcist imitation.  She was already on edge after having the painter here today. She was beyond barking.  She was shrieking as I clutched her in my arms.

UH, YES MA'AM, I'M HERE TODAY TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT YOUR LAWN CARE.

Look, I know he's just doing his job, but by six at night, I'm dead from the neck up (credit to Lisa Lampanelli).

Big E, not to miss out on all the action, climbs off the throne and comes sprinting to the door.

There were a …

Everything's Bigger and Better in NYC

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This past weekend Big E and I flew up to NYC to visit my brother and sister-in-law.

I'm happy to report that nothing traumatic happened on either leg of the trip.  In fact, Big E passed out about two minutes into the flight home and remained in a coma until the wheels touched down in ATL.

Saturday afternoon we took Big E down to the Chelsea Market to get his Elmo cupcake that he's been clamoring for ever since my brother texted me a picture of it a few months back.

I showed it to Big E and he lost his mind.  That is all he has been talking about.  If I needed him to behave, this was my golden ticket.  I just had to mention "The Elmo Cupcake" and Big E became a perfect angel.

As we walked into Ruthy's, Big E's eyes grew as wide as saucers.  His mouth gaped open.  This was it.  And he knew it.

We settled into a small table and watched Big E murder his cupcake.  Murder is really the only way to describe it. This cupcake was huge and easily 500 calories.  Big E…

Less than 24 hours...

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Until Big E and I hit up NYC.

I'm already getting nervous about the flight.

Mr. Yoy flew with him last month, and with the exception of their plane being struck by lightning, mid-air, things went smoothly.

I am not a great plane passenger.

If Big E was not accompanying me, I'd spend the duration of the flight gripping my armrests, waiting for us to crash or get hijacked or some other dreadfully unlucky event.

But now I have to be Mrs. Yoy, the cool and easy going traveler.

Maybe I'll be Mrs. Yoy, the cool and easy going and just a tad drunk traveler.

Below are the list of things Big E will be forbidden from doing on the plane:

1) Talking

2) Using the bathroom

3) Drinking Water

4) Kicking the seat in front of him

If he can follow these four cornerstones of toddler plane etiquette, everything should be A-ok.

In any case, pray for me.  I mean us.
Big Apple meet Big E.  Hopefully you guys will become fast friends.

And Baby Makes Five

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This past weekend I learned of a Mrs. Yoy rumor floating around town.

Apparently, I'm pregnant with my third baby!  And it's a boy (excuse me while I have a moment of non-pregnancy induced dry heaving).

Imagine my surprise when I heard this.

GREAT, I MUST LOOK REALLY BLOATED!

That was my first thought.  I glanced down at my belly area.

Am I the only mother out there that can instantly look about five months pregnant while pushing her stomach muscles (ahem, fat) out?

It is not lost on me that looking pregnant could be helpful in certain situations.

1) Traffic tickets (although I still scored two during one stop while I was in my first trimester with Little E)

2) Bathroom priority

3) Overall human kindness you experience while pregnant

Anyway, for the record I'm about six pounds heavier than I was when I became pregnant with Little E.  I affectionately call it my Karen Carpenter weight.  No one told me at the time, but I had become a tad too thin. That's what you get whe…

Unanswered Prayers

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Friday night we went to our Synagogue's monthly Tot Shabbat.

My kids love it.  They load up on kosher food, enjoy some great music, and run around like maniacs until I drag them kicking and screaming into the van.

Friday evening was a particular lovely night.  After the service, all the kids were running around outside in the Holocaust Garden, uplifting, I know.

Mid-stride, Big E froze and declared the four words I HATE HATE HATE to hear in public.

I HAVE TO POOP!

All that running had done the trick.

I ask a friend to look after Little E so he doesn't take a swim in the water fountain and begin the bathroom sprint with Big E.

We run down the hallway with the pictures of the old Rabbis and ancient artifacts.  I feel like they are watching us.

I HAVE TO POOP!  I HAVE TO POOP!  I HAVE TO POOP!

I'm praying he isn't interrupting the regular services.

We buzz by an older lady walking in the direction of the restroom.  Since I'm already praying, I pray this lady isn'…

Attack of the Killer Pigeons

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After our visit to the Georgia Aquarium, I let the Yoys run wild around the big grassy area between the GA and Coke.

Those boys have endless energy and if 30 minutes of them acting like maniacs and scaring homeless people makes for a more manageable afternoon, then I am all for it.

As always, there were nasty pigeons and little finches eating up the scraps from the nearby snack spot.

Big E had found another little boy to run around with. The two boys were slowly circling a Pigeon.

THEY'LL BITE YOU!

Big E alerted the other little boy to their impending attack and subsequent doom.

The little boy's face registered a look of panic and he ran off.  His puzzled father was left to comfort the little boy.

BIG E!  THEY DO NOT BITE!  STOP SCARING YOUR FRIENDS!

Look, I am the first to say I hate pigeons.  They rate extremely high on my skeeve out scale.  But I'm pretty sure they are not attack pigeons.  Unless you are a piece of bread.

This isn't the first time Big E has pulled

Put the Lotion in the Basket

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Little E was blessed with many wonderful traits.

When he is not whining, he is actually the more affectionate of the Yoys.  He hugs and open mouth kisses like a champ.

There is one area that Little E has struggled with since birth.  His skin.

Baby acne.  CHECK!

Eczema.  CHECK!

Mysterious roaming rashes.  CHECK!

He most always has some sort of rash/breakout on some part of his body.

Little E's bedtime routine consists of a full body coating of a few different creams and topical medicines recommended by his doctor.  He knows the drill and each and every night we go to war over the process.

I thought that putting him into pajamas was a battle.  Ha! I now laugh at that!  I wish I was just putting him into pajamas.

It starts with him trying to roll off his changing table.  I almost want to let him make the leap so that I can tell him I told him so.  But then I snap back to reality.

Then the screaming.  Good lord, does he scream.  I recheck the bottle.  Is this acid or is this Cetaphil? …

Sweet as Sugar

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Tonight, Big E and I were seated at the bar stools eating our dinner.

MOMMY?

I glanced over at Big E and expected him to ask for water, cheese, fruit slices (the candy kind, of course), or some other random request.

YES, BIG E?

He looked at me with all the seriousness he could muster and said these wonderful words:

I MISSED YOU ALL THE TIME WHEN I WENT TO THE LAKE WITH GRANDMA AND POPPY.

I literally wanted to reach over and eat HIM for dinner.

How can he be so sweet one moment and a full-blown terrorist the next?

At that moment, I didn't care.

THANKS, BIG E, I MISS YOU ALL THE TIME, TOO.  (A semi-true statement)

And by the way, his trip to Lake Oconee was about three weeks ago and I have no idea what triggered him to spill his emotions tonight.
A big hug from my little Yoyser.

Hands off Mrs. Yoy!

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Yesterday, I was having a rough afternoon.  I was exhausted from the weekend and feeling a tad under the weather.

Not feeling 100% is incompatible with being a mother.  It just won't work, no matter how hard you try.

I powered through their dinner which was served promptly at 5pm.  These kids were going to bed early.

As the Yoys munched away on their dinners, I straightened up the house.

By now, the downstairs resembled a war zone.  Mr. Yoy's Lego pyramids he had built to show how good us Jews were at building them, had since been obliterated into pieces and were strewn about.

I AM SO TIRED.  ONLY ONE MORE HOUR.  I AM SO TIRED. ONLY ONE MORE HOUR.

I kept repeating these phrases to myself.  I had to make it.

I finally had most of their crap put away.  I know I am so Type A, but I hate coming downstairs in the morning to a disaster.  I just can't handle it.  It has to be neat.  If only for a minute.

I returned to the kitchen area to find that Little E had made it rain gree…

Pink and Yellow

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Hey guys!  Sorry I've been super lazy about blogging.  I had 21 people over for Seder on Saturday night and I think I've finally recovered enough to begin writing again.

I have many stories to tell you.  Sit back and enjoy.

Saturday, Mr. Yoy took the boys out of the house so I could cook without begging children underfoot.  It was such a help!

As part of their four hour excursion, they stopped at Boston Market for some chicken.  The lady working there asked if the yoys wanted balloons.  Of course, the answer was yes.

She asked Big E what colors he wanted for him and his brother.

PINK AND YELLOW!

No hesitation there, Big E knew what colors he wanted.

The lady asked Mr. Yoy if it was ok if Big E had a pink balloon.

Really?

Have we come to this?

Are gender roles so ingrained in us that a pink balloon request by a little boy is enough to send this woman into a tizzy?

Mr. Yoy gave the thumbs up.

If Big E wanted a pink balloon, then a pink balloon he shall get.

A little perspective…

Three Strikes and You're Out!

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Another title for this blog entry could have been the religious trifecta.  You are about to find out why.
As you know from reading the hundreds of Mrs. Yoy blog entries, we are a Jewish family.  We are not religious zealots, but we observe our holidays and appreciate our rich culture and history.
Living in Atlanta is not like living in South Florida or New York.  While there is a substantial Jewish population here, it is not as prominent as it is in other areas of the country.  I know this.  I've lived here going on twelve years.  I've experienced a variety of awkward or funny things that people have said to me since I've become a Southerner.
But over the past few days there has been a spike in activity, due to the upcoming holidays this weekend.
Yesterday I came home and had a pamphlet about Jesus saving me stuck in my front door.  It was from the Witnesses.  They canvass our neighborhood A LOT.  I quickly called my neighbor to see if she also received one.  
The last tim…

Another Day, Another Disaster

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I tried out a new playground with a friend and her two kids this morning.

Between the two of us, there were four little kids which equates to mass chaos.

Fortunately for us, the park was sparsely attended.  Big E and his friend, Lady E, were navigating the big wooden structure we coined "the castle".  They were having a blast.

Little E had also found a fun little play area for himself that was close to the ground, which I greatly appreciated. I did not have the fear of him falling off the top of the castle pulsing through my veins.

I had everything under control, for once.  I began to relax and enjoy the warm sunshine.

I HAVE TO POOP!

And, back to reality I snapped.  Big E was making a beeline for the van and his mini potty.  I asked my friend to watch Little E.

I had taken two steps towards my car when Lady E also exclaimed her urge to go to the potty.

Now there was trouble.  I doubled back to grab Little E's hand as we were all headed to the car.

I HAVE TO POOP!  I HA…