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Showing posts from May, 2012

Is this a 911 call?

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I like e-mail.

I can respond on my own time, after I have given thought to whatever it is I want to say.  I can portray myself as calm and educated (thank you spell check).

Ditto for text messages.

Phone calls now scare the sh*t out of me.  Especially phone calls to people that do not know I am housing  two miniature terrorists.

I made a decision today.  I had been staring at some carpet samples for almost three weeks and I had finally chosen our new area rug.  My designer had taken the time to go to the store and narrow down my selection to 7 or 8 samples.  She also gave me the business the card of the lady who had helped her out.  It had her e-mail and her phone number.

Oh, carpet lady.  Do I e-mail you my order or call?  The Yoys were doing laps around the house on their ride along cars.  On a loudness scale, 1 being a whisper and 10 being my eardrums are bursting, I'd give them an 8.  They were pretty loud.

I manned up and decided to call carpet lady.  Surely I can keep my kid…

WHIKEA?

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Mr. Yoy worked pretty much all day Sunday.

I stayed home with the boys and attempted to clean up and organize the house after having contractors out here all week.

By about 4pm, we were all going stir crazy.  Mr. Yoy asked if we wanted to meet him at Ikea around 5.  I was desperate to get out and I believe this impaired my judgement.

SURE, WE'LL MEET AT IKEA ON A SUNDAY AT DINNERTIME IN 90 DEGREE WEATHER, WHY NOT?

First up on our Ikea list was to return something.  It was a pretty painless process, but it was here that the decision was made (by Big E) for both boys to ride in the same shopping cart.  This would turn out to be a fatal error.

We headed to the Swedish food section to pick up our favorite, Swedish Fish.  We talked them up to the boys in the hopes the chewy deliciousness would keep them occupied and quiet for the duration of our visit.

WAIT, THEY ARE SOLD OUT OF SWEDISH FISH?  WHAT KIND OF IKEA IS THIS?

Good thing I had a back-up plan.  Snack cups for all!

As we appro…

Mansion Crashers

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Saturday we attended a birthday pool party at Iron Yoy's beautiful Riverside Drive mansion.  The party was for Iron Yoy's three year old niece.  Let's get some technical terms out of the way here.

Iron Yoy is our old babysitter/good friend who competes in Iron Man competitions like they are 5ks.  She has done two, which is the same number of 5ks Mrs. Yoy has "run".

While Iron Yoy lives in a mansion, she does not own it. She rents out a room there from some rich lady, who was home during the party.  Apparently, rich lady does not love guests and/or children as she was scowling every time I caught a glimpse of her.

The Yoys are not accustomed to nice things.  We live in a very modest house and for the most part steer clear of expensive things.  With a 1 and 3 year old patrolling our pad, we know that anything nice is destined to be destroyed.  Why risk the heartache?

So here we were, high rolling in the infinity pool.  I was in the water with Big E.  Mr. Yoy was …

The Next Great Stall Tactic

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Big E has introduced a new bedtime stall tactic into the mix.

MOM, I HAVE 60 QUESTIONS TO ASK YOU.

He will appear out of his room many minutes and sometimes hours after I thought he was asleep and announce our impending interview.

Tonight, Big E pulled the question card while I was tucking him in.  Thankfully, he only had ten questions for me to answer.  Ten I can handle.

MOMMY, WHY DOES THE SUN STAY OUT ALL DAY AND THE MOON ALL NIGHT?

He leads with a real brain buster.

I dig deep.  What do I remember from my Intro to Astronomy class at UF?  If only I had purchased the textbook instead of A+ Notes.

I take a calming breath and blurt out some mess about the Earth, the sun, and rotation.  Why do I feel like I'm being graded?  Like he would know the difference anyway...or would he?  Wait, am I sweating?

He seems pretty satisfied with my answer.  I give myself an A++.  It's the end of the day, I'm worn out from being in the sun, and I'm about two chips away from being in a…

The Definition of Insanity

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Repeating the same action over and over again and expecting different results.

This theory is easily applicable to every day life.

For instance, downing 2-3 Willy's burritos per week will not encourage my weight loss.  Even if I did talk a stroll around the block this morning.

Another example, the Yoys at their school's weekly Shabbat service from 12:15-12:45.

Yes, I'm aware it is only 30 minutes.  Surely my kids could keep their sh*t together for 30 minutes.  Guess again.

I actually stopped going at some point during the year because they were both so disruptive.

Then I started creeping in the back of the room a few minutes after Shabbat started so I could observe Big E. The amazing thing is, when I'm not there, he sits comfortably in his teacher's lap and is a perfect angel. What in the hell?

Today, I sent Little E to school, which I don't normally do, but I needed a few hours to myself.  I arrived for Shabbat, but the Yoys weren't in the room yet.

I gra…

Take Your Yoy to Work Day (or maybe not)

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Mr. Yoy asked if I could bring the boys by for dinner and take a look at his new office with all of his pictures professionally hung.

I, of course, obliged as I am always looking for something to kill time before bedtime.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO DRIVE INTO THE HEART OF BUCKHEAD IN THE MIDDLE OF RUSH HOUR?

or

WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY AT HOME FROM THE HOURS OF 4-7PM WHILE YOUR KIDS SLOWLY DRIVE YOU INSANE?

This mom would take traffic any day of the week.

So we headed off to Terminus.

We made pretty good time, by the way, until we hit Piedmont.  What a cluster!

We hit up Mr. Yoy's office first.  It looked fantastic!  Big and Little E seated themselves next to the window and ogled the women at the three hotel pools within view.

No wonder Mr. Yoy asked for binoculars for Father's Day.  (That was a joke)

We walked over to Ru San's for some sushi dinner.  I give them props for blasting their music.  It makes me much more relaxed as there is something louder than my children.  But I take…

We have ourselves a game, folks!

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Today, the Yoys received a mid-day bath.

Big E was dirty enough when I picked him up from school. Mysterious stains clung to his once navy t-shirt.  But as dirt overachievers we were not done.  I then took him to an hour long class at a local art school where he glued, painted, and glittered.  After that he was really dirty. Like, he could easily be inducted into the dirty hall of fame (on the first try).

In general, I like to put the Yoys to bed squeaky clean, but mid-day baths do have one redeeming quality.

They are done mid-day.  Before all of my energy and patience has been consumed.  Then, when bedtime comes, it is one less thing on my list.  Although, I do have to spend the majority of the afternoon keeping them indoors and away from food, paint, and anything else that could potentially require a SECOND bath of the day.  THE HORROR!

Getting back to my point, we were in the bath.

Things were moving along right on schedule.  I had finished cleaning them up and it was now playtime…

Off with his thumb!

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Big E will be three and a half next week.

He kicked the pacifier habit long ago.

But he has developed an even harder habit to break.  He is a thumb sucker.  Big time.  His calloused thumb serves as a constant reminder of my parenting fail.

HOW DID I LET THIS GO SO LONG?

At his dentist appointment yesterday, I learned that he has developed a 30% overbite from his relentless sucking and his teeth were flaring out on the side he favors. Awesome.

Big E's dentist and I both feel like we need to break the habit now, as I'm sure he will already need years and years of orthodontic work based on his genes.  Why complicate things even more?

During the day, I constantly remind him to pull his thumb out.

He shyly smiles and does, but I know he can't help out.  He probably doesn't even know he is doing it.

Tonight I tucked him in, and explained that if he went a whole week without sucking his thumb, I'd take him to the toy store and he could pick out a special treat.

He seemed…

Regression Analysis

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Ok, people.  It's time to pull out your Statistics 101 notes from school and have a discussion on a little topic known as regression analysis.

If your mind immediately jumped to independent and dependent variables, please close out of my blog immediately.  We can no longer be friends.

I'm referring to Big E.

For months this kid was air tight.  He had zero accidents after day one of potty training.  I was all braggity braggity brag about him.

OH, POTTY TRAINING.  THAT WAS A PIECE OF PUBLIX CAKE.  SO SUPER EASY. BLAH BLAH BLAH.  I DON'T KNOW WHY EVERY OTHER MOMMY IS SO INTIMIDATED BY THE PROCESS.

Dang, I should have shut the hell up.  I should have known I'd have to eat my words.

There are two sides of Big E.

Big E away from home is all about going to the bathroom.

We could be in the dirtiest Walmart ever and Big E will absolutely have to use the bathroom.  Even if he just went thirty minutes ago.

Last week I had to take Big E to the bathroom in Costco. This also mean…

And for the grand finale...

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If you haven't already heard me complaining, Mr. Yoy left Friday on a mostly work, with a little bit of play, trip to Washington D.C.

He is currently in flight on his way back to the ATL.

I don't know why I'm feeling so relieved.  I still have Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to get through before I will have some hands on help this weekend.

At least I'll be able to talk to someone older than Big E.  I'm growing bored of this week's hot topics which include stickers, goldfish crackers, and trains.

So here I am.  Worn out.  Moving dangerously close to completely losing my sh*t.  I've had zero help.  No parents, no babysitter, nothing.  Just me and these two little tornadoes.  From morning until night.  This explains why they've been going to bed at 6:30.

As we approached the end of the day, I was starting to feel hopeful again.  All is not lost.  I will survive.  As part of my abandonment therapy, I will spend gobs of money redecorating our house and my…

A Replacement Poppy

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Yesterday, I met Aunt Yoy up at the train museum in Kennesaw.

We love the train museum for many reasons.

1) My kids would give any major appendage to play with trains.  They are not choosy as to what type.  Just give it to them.  Now.  Please.

2) The train museum has a large children's area which is almost always empty.  It's like our own private museum.  Me likey!

3) It guarantees a BM.  I don't know if they just get so excited it stirs up the digestion process or what, but it is a rather odd phenomenon.

As we entered the train holy land, we noticed a grandfather playing with his grandson, who had just turned three.

The two of them together reminded me a lot of my dad and Big E.  It made me smile.

I began talking to him about the train museum, his grandson, my crazy kids, etc.  He was very kind and patiently answered all of Big E's questions.  Barbara Walters better watch out.  This kid is gunning for her job!

We had been in the room about thirty minutes, which is a…

Would you like to make a donation to (insert today's hot cause here)?

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Let me start by saying I am no scrooge.

Mr. Yoy and I donate plenty in charitable contributions each year.  (Tax returns available upon request)

I just don't like being put on the spot.

For example, I went nuts on this guy a few weeks back who parked himself at a major intersection by my house for almost two weeks.  I drive through this intersection at least twice a day.  So, if I gave this guy a quarter every time I drove through, essentially this man has turned a public street into a toll road.

After ignoring him for many days, I felt obliged to roll down my window as I was the first car in line at the light and he was making crazy eye contact with me.

He gave me his spiel for his cause.  I politely declined. Then he made some sort of doubting statement to the tune of:

YOU CAN'T TELL ME YOU DON'T HAVE A QUARTER OR TWO IN YOUR CAR.

Then I told him to apply for a job at Georgia 400 (the nice and abbreviated version of what I said).

If it is not this guy it is Publix or Cos…

No Farting at Jason's Deli

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Last night we met Mr. Yoy for a quick dinner at Jason's Deli.

We grabbed the last of the available booths and settled in for dinner.

The boys were eating and actually behaving.

Mr. Yoy and I were reviewing our days.

I repositioned myself on the booth and my hot skin against the sticky vinyl made that familiar sound.

Big E's eyes opened as wide as saucers.

DADDY!  YOU PASSED GAS!

Big E yelled out for all to hear.

There were two things that prevented this from not being the most embarrassing meal we've had with Big E in his three short years.

1)  He wasn't in possession of a microphone.

2)  Our closest food neighbors were a table or two away.

BIG E, THAT WAS MOMMY'S LEG, NOT DADDY PASSING GAS.

I tried reasoning with him.  That went well.

DADDY!  YOU PASSED GAS!

He announce it again in case anyone missed it.

I tried to make the noise again to prove it was me, but we ALL know that never ever ever works.

So we busted out the birthday cookies for a distraction. That did…