Friday, November 30, 2012

Little E: The Tracks of His Tears

Little E had to have his blood drawn this week to rule out some underlying possible causes for his chronic hive situation.

To say I was apprehensive about taking Little E to get stuck with a needle was an understatement.  The kid bursts into tears whenever we enter any room that resembles a doctor's office.  He went bat-sh*t crazy at the vet.  Poodle Yoy on the other hand, was the calmer of the two and she even nervous pooped on the floor.

They ushered us right back when we arrived.  I signed away both our lives and the nurse asked me to sit in the chair and then pull Little E up onto my lap.

I'm not going to lie.  I'm a wuss.  Right after I had my babies I had lost some of my wussiness.  After going through a chunk of unmedicated labor, my pain threshold went through the ceiling.

Novocain for pulling teeth?  FOR THE WEAK, I SAY!

But two years out, I've reverted to my old self.  I held Little E close to me.  I pinned down one arm.  The nurse pinned down the arm the blood was being taken from.  Another nurse jabbed Little E's doughy arm with the needle.  I closed my eyes and looked away.

He let out an instant scream.  But, surprisingly, it subsided as fast as it had arrived.

I let out a huge sigh of relief.  This was not going to be a bloodbath, literally.

WHAT'S THAT?

Little E was very interested in what was going on.  Maybe he'll be a doctor!?

PAINT?  PAINT?

Sweet, my kid thought the vials of his blood were paint.  Maybe he won't be a doctor!?

And then it was over.  The nurse pulled out the needle and bandaged up his arm.

And then I heard the last words I wanted to hear.

SHOOT, I NEED MORE BLOOD FOR THE LAST TEST ORDERED.

I tried to keep my cool, but I really wanted to rip this lady's head off.  Whatever happened to attention to detail?  Especially when you are working with a two year old.

She had to go back in.  This time it would be on the other arm.

Poor, sweet, Little E.

He again cried momentarily but was then distracted by the sink, the kleenex, and the soap nearby.

Again, it was over.  At least the blood portion of our program.

The next part gave me the best laugh I've had in a really long time.

I needed to collect a urine sample from Little E.  And he's not potty trained.  She gave me this contraption that I have to stick to his boy parts and it is attached to a plastic bag.

She actually gave me three in case the first try doesn't work out.

MMUUUAAAAAHHHHH!

First try, my a**.  I guarantee this will not happen.  I'm better off stripping him down and following after him with a cup.

Anyway, if you happen to encounter a toddler with heroin track marks on his arms and some weird catheter bag thing happening, don't be alarmed.  It's just Little E.

Ouchie.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Paging Dr. Santa

During our morning mall visit, Big E ended up visiting with Santa.

It's not like he sat on his lap and rattled off a list of toys he wanted for Christmas, or even took a picture.  He just walked up to Santa with his friend Lady P.

Big E can identify Santa, but he doesn't understand the back story.

So after Lady P finished talking to Santa, my son got his turn.

SOMETIMES I HAVE A COUGH.

Holy moly, Big E thinks Santa is his doctor.  He is clueless!  Ha!

Maybe I've been granted another year of Santa reprieve.

In any case, I'm experiencing my annual feelings of envy.




My Hulk Impersonation

This morning we met some friends at our local mall to escape the nasty fall weather.

We played, ate lunch, and played again.

Big E used the bathroom as we were finishing up lunch.  It wasn't a code red emergency, so I was thankful.  Normally we end up racing to the bathroom like we are on an episode of Supermarket Sweep.

As Big E and his friends were climbing in and out of all the coin operated vehicles, I saw him grab his bottom.

Panic bubbled up in my throat.

BIG E, DO YOU NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM?!

He did.  And, even worse, it was a poo-mergency.

We were located dead center of the mall with restrooms located on each end of the mall.

I scooped Big E up, as I felt running would not help his cause, and took off.  I slowed down to ask a woman working at the cookie kiosk where the closest bathroom was.

Sweet lord, I had to run all the way down to the end AND down an escalator.

At that moment, I pictured myself as the Incredible Hulk.  Big and muscle-y and green and mad.  Carrying a limp body.

I was also wearing knee high boots, skinny jeans and a jacket.  I had not dressed appropriately for my mall jog.  I was sweating my a** off.  My main goal, at that moment, was not to look like a hip, mom-on-the-go, but merely to keep Big E from having a bowel movement on the industrial mall carpet.

I HAVE TO POOP!  I HAVE TO POOP!

In case anyone was curious why I was sprinting through the mall, Big E made sure to broadcast his intentions to all who would listen.

As we hit the top of the escalator I had to stop to compose myself.  I have a minor fear of falling down an escalator, so I had to make sure I could hold Big E and grab the railing.

I'm happy to report that we made it to the bottom AND the bathroom.

I've said it before, but I'd like to reiterate it.  I DO NOT get paid enough for this job.  In fact, I should be receiving some sort of combat pay.

By the way, this show scared the crud out of me as young child.

Friday, November 23, 2012

Best Buy. Not Best Mom.

I'm forever second guessing my parenting abilities.  Am I rearing wonderful human beings or are they both going to be serial killers?  I guess I'll know in about 15 years.

In the meantime, I find solace in other parents' obvious lack of judgement.  At first read, I sound like a royal b*tch, but really it is deep rooted in my insecurity as a mom.

On our way home from Thanksgiving dinner, we made a pit stop.  Mr. Yoy decided it would be awesome to check out all the Black Friday maniacs.

We swung by Best Buy a little before nine.  The line was tremendous.  People were camped out.  I've seen such madness on the news, but to witness it in person was amazing.

As we slowly cruised by and stared at all the people two things struck me.

1)  There were more people in line to buy a door buster then when I voted for president a few weeks back.  Sad.

2)  There was a mother sitting on the sidewalk with her infant in a bouncy seat and she was bouncing the sh*t out of this baby.  It wasn't freezing cold, but it certainly wasn't the best place for a baby.

I had a moment.

I may not be the most patient, loving mother on the planet, but at least I didn't drag my newborn out to buy a $39 blue ray player.

It wasn't until later that I learned that Best Buy didn't open until midnight.

Poor baby.

Best Buy.  Maybe not Best Mom.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Big E: Back to Normal

So my last entry was a little sappy.  Sorry for that.  I guess I was still on an endorphin high from our morning excursion of do-goodness.

Don't worry, though.  That ended in like five seconds flat.

Our cleaning people were here this morning.  Oh, how I love coming home to a perfectly clean home.  We came upstairs so I could put Little E down for his nap.

As I was changing Little E's diaper, Big E took it upon himself to completely unmake his freshly made bed and drag all of his sheets, pillows, and blankets under his bed.

Five hundred curse words consecutively ran through my head, although I rattled off none of them aloud.

WHY?  WHY?  WHY?

At first, he stonewalled me.

I DON'T KNOW.

Oh, I know.  Because you want to drive your dear, sweet mother insane.

I went downstairs for a minute to grab a drink (non-alcholic, of course) and cool off.  I was feeling so frustrated.

I tried again.

WHY?  WHY?  WHY?

Finally, he came clean.

He was doing a monster check.

Hmmm, maybe we need to take it easy on the monster thing.

I asked him to remake his bed, which turned into an hour exercise for him.  One hour closer to bedtime, that's all I have to say.

Monster Hunting

Happy Thanksgiving from Big E

Raising a kid is hard as hell.

For those of you that haven't yet swam in the parenting pool, you are lucky in a way.

Once your baby is born, everything you do shapes this little person.

I've watched in pride (and sometimes horror) as things Mr. Yoy and I have done as parents presents itself in my kids' actions and comments.

We have many hopes and dreams for the Yoys, one of which would be to have compassionate, philanthropic children.

I read an article recently that children receive more pleasure from giving than receiving.  I discussed it with Mr. Yoy and we decided to do a food drive in lieu of gifts for Big E's 4th birthday party.

I'm not going to lie.  The first ten or so times I mentioned it, Big E was not super jazzed about it.  He wanted TOYS!  Which, by the way, we in no way need.

We talked about the food drive to Big E and eventually he came around, or at least stopped complaining about it.

The day of his party arrived and his friends did not disappoint.  We had bags upon bags of food to donate to the Atlanta Community Food Bank and we were so excited to do it.  Some were even in Neiman Marcus bags which gave me a good chuckle (nice touch, by the way, but not at all surprising).

Mr. Yoy, through his many connections, arranged for us to meet the big boss at the food bank.  We went over this morning and were able to receive a tour of the facilities (which were insanely huge and organized) and hear a little bit more about the Atlanta Community Food Bank.

I was beaming with pride as Big E carried cans from our trunk and placed them in the food bin.  He was so happy to help.

I'm not sure if he fully understands what it means to be hungry just yet, but I feel like we are giving him a good foundation and an important life experience.

Hopefully we can make this a yearly event and that Big E grows up to be an aware and caring young man.

On the other hand, it is Mr. Yoy and me raising these kids, so you never really know...

Big E dropping his cans into the bin.

Monday, November 19, 2012

The Yoys: Party Rocking

Kids birthday parties are pretty lame (this excludes the drop-off kind).

Don't gasp at me.  This is a safe, honest place.  You can admit it without judgement.  I'll never tell.

Mr. Yoy would be happy if he never had to go to another birthday party again. This includes our own children.

I begrudgingly plan the Yoys' parties.  Little E didn't even have a 2nd birthday party.  Don't feel sorry for him, he won't remember it anyway.

On the spectrum of kids' party planning ranging from not giving a sh*t to insane, over planning maniac, I'd like to say I fall somewhere towards the more relaxed side of things.  In fact, I pride myself on it.

Yesterday we held Big E's birthday party.  There is an awesome old mill by our house which has been converted into a park and playground.  The only wild card is the weather.

Luckily for us, we had a beautiful day.  We brought in Big E's music teacher, ordered some deep dish pizza, and publix cake, and we had ourselves a party.

Reasons I know we hosted a throw down:

1) Some little girl I didn't even know (and her dad) spent the majority of the music portion of the party dancing with Big E and his friends.  Yes, we had a party crasher.

2) Contraband vodka.

3) Friends without kids showed up.

4) Guests hung around after cake cutting.

5)  The moms at school pickup reiterated what a great time they had yesterday.  (FYI, Jewish girls don't say things to be nice, they tell you the straight-up truth).

6) I didn't bother with goody bags and no one complained.

7) My son took a 3.5 hour post party nap.

8) We collected a massive amount of food for the Atlanta Community Food Bank.

I planned a great party with pretty much zero effort.  I am amped.

This victory is dedicated to all the lazy moms out there!  It is possible, ladies!

Big E's 4th birthday food bank drive. 


A trail of Big E's friends running wild at the park.  

Big E: Sidewalk Troll

I've been spending many afternoons slowly deweeding my flower beds.  They were so neglected, that I can only do a little at a time before I want to stab my eyes out with my gardening tools.

Big E is my constant gardening companion.  He (attempts to) rake, sweep, and pull weeds.

He also greets all of my neighbors as they meander by on their afternoon walks.

One neighbor walked by with his two big dogs and his little girl.  I'd say she was about a year younger than Big E.

I watched in horror as Big E made himself into a human gate in the middle of our sidewalk.

SAY PLEASE AND I'LL LET YOU BY.

She just stood there and stared at him.  She wasn't saying sh*t.

SAY PLEASE AND I'LL LET YOU BY.

Nothing.

I began encouraging Big E to let her pass.  Her dad was halfway up the hill with the dogs.  He also was  encouraging her to keep walking.

SAY PLEASE!  SAY PLEASE!

I carefully untangled my arms from the thorny rose bushes and removed Big E from the sidewalk.

NEXT TIME BRING YOUR TOLL MONEY AND WE WON'T HAVE TO DO THIS.

Big E didn't actually say this, but I wouldn't have been shocked if he did.

This kid is making ALL kinds of neighborhood pals.



Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Mrs. Yoy: I'd Like To Thank The Academy

Big E was especially wound up this evening.  In the midst of book reading, usually a calm time for us, he was jumping on the bed and steam rolling Little E.

I abandoned Clifford about 3/4 of the way through because I was getting seasick on Big E's bed.

I grabbed Little E first and tossed him into his crib.  He's easy.  He can't climb out.  He goes right to sleep.  Tonight, he is my favorite son.

I tuck Big E in.  I can tell from his tossing and turning he is not ready to sleep.  But I so am.

I close his door and sit down at my desk.  I hear his feet hit the floor and about thirty seconds later he opens his door.

Always strategizing, I pick up my phone and dramatically act out a fake phone call to my mom.  I realize how lame this is, but I'm desperate.

YES, MOM, I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD FLY UP TOMORROW BECAUSE BIG E WON'T GO TO BED.

AND I'M CANCELING HIS BIRTHDAY.

AND I'M CANCELING EVERY OTHER FUN THING HE MAY EVER DO IN HIS LIFETIME.

AND ALSO CHRISTMAS.

OK, BYE MOM.

Big E is very alarmed by my faux telephone call.  He runs over to me and hands me his mattress tag, which he felt the need to rip off after I had tucked him in, and runs back to his bed.

TUCK ME IN!  TUCK ME IN!

He begged to go to sleep.

Now that's what I'm talking about.

Winner of tonight's round goes to Mrs. Yoy!
If he comes out again, I'm going to go nuts with the police tape and his door frame.

Little E: Lost in Translation

Little E has been a late everything.

He waited until the last possible second to walk.  I had halfway dialed the physical therapist's number when he finally stood up and nakedly sashayed his way across Big E's bedroom.

Same for talking.  It has been caveman city here for quite some time.

Only in the past month or so has he begun stringing together words to form ideas.

It can be quite frustrating as he is trying his darnedest to tell me something and I am just repeating back nonsense to him.

DOUBLE?  DOUBLE DOWN?  DOUBLE DOWN ON ELEVEN?!

It occurred to me this evening as I was deciphering him, that conversing with Little E is like vacationing in a non-English speaking country.

I just keep repeating what I think he is saying louder and louder.  Because that is what I did in France.  I could have a megaphone hooked up to an amplifier and Little E and I still wouldn't understand each other.

His response is usually a lot of NOs which progresses to a high pitch scream.  Also, like the French people.

I'm hoping this is a short lived phase and we can graduate on to my favorite phase, the why phase.
Our daily discussion topics.  I think.

Monday, November 12, 2012

Hammurabi's Code

Last night we had a lovely dinner at Ted's Montana Grill.

And I'm not being sarcastic.  The boys were really well behaved.  It was like being in a Twilight Zone Episode starring our family.

Towards the end of our meal, Big E crawled under the booth to sit next to Mr. Yoy.  While it seemed sweet at the time, his true motive was to posture himself next to all the table goodies.

Like a Jimmy Buffett song (Mr. Yoy do I need you to approve this part?), Big E was just looking for a shaker of salt.  I watched in horror as Big E put his mouth over the top of the shaker.  I never extra salt my food but at this moment in time, I had visions of all the nasty things that could be on the salt shaker. Including now, my kid's mouth.  I suppressed the urge to vomit.

Mr. Yoy quickly took the shaker away from Big E.  But he repeatedly reached for it.  So finally, in a fine parenting moment, Mr. Yoy (JOKINGLY, OF COURSE) informed Big E he was going to saw off his hand with the bison knife if he didn't stop reaching for the salt.

That ended Big E's salt obsession.

Big E climbed out of the booth and made his way over to our neighbor's table while Mr. Yoy paid the bill.  Because Big E has zero stranger danger, he chatted up some people he had never met.  I had no idea what he was telling them.  My guess would be some deep family secrets.  I rushed over, grabbed him by the shoulder, made some comment about my over friendly kid, and herded him towards the front door.

Mr. Yoy followed behind me by about a minute.  He walked out of the restaurant with the patented Yoy smirk.

OUR DINNER NEIGHBORS FELT COMPELLED TO TELL ME THAT BIG E SAID HIS DAD WAS GOING TO CHOP OFF HIS HAND WITH A KNIFE.

Sweet.  I was mortified.  Even worse was Mr. Yoy's stone cold response.

HAMMURABI'S CODE!  WE HAVE A VERY STRICT HOUSEHOLD.

And then he walked out.

The car ride home consisted of Mr. Yoy explaining to Big E the art of joking and sarcasm.  That went over well (at least I learned something).

I'm expecting the Georgia Division of Family and Children services to pay us a visit at any minute.


New house rules.  The Yoys better study up.  And find a translator.



Help! I'm Raising a 1980s Valley Girl!

Oh, the L word.

Care to take a guess?  It has infiltrated our daily dialogue.  Overuse of the word demands an automatic deduction of 50 IQ points.

And the disease has spread to Big E.

I only recently noticed his affinity for using LIKE.

It would be one thing if Big E were a Facebook post.  In that case, you can never have enough likes. But he is a mere, almost four year old.

Sometimes I have to laugh because I expect him to follow it with GAG ME WITH A SPOON! or something equally as relevant.

My giggles quickly morph into sobs, because there is only one person he would have picked that up from.

That would be the person he spends the majority of his life with, me.

So maybe I need to rename my blog.  The Valley Girl Blog.  It has a nice ring to it.

Anyhow, I have got to eliminate this word from my vocabulary.

Like now.

Get it?

Maybe I need to set up a LIKE jar.  It could be my New Year's resolution.  That and losing 50 pounds.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Clean Up, Lane Three

My brother is visiting from NYC.  On Monday after we picked Big E up from school, we headed over to Toys R Us so Big E could select his birthday present.

Mr. Yoy and I decided to buy Big E the Leap Frog tablet, so I could regain custody of my iPhone.

I figured Big E could pick out a game and we'd call our shopping trip a day.

Our trip to the check out line was derailed by a giant Little E poo and a Thomas the Train table.  We finally made it to the front of the store.  I checked my watch.  We had been shopping for almost 30 minutes.

I handed the Leap Frog slip of paper to the cashier.  Apparently, people steal these things, so you have to have someone dig one out of the warehouse when you are committed to buy.

The cashier radioed back to someone for the tablet.

Five minutes passed.

A second radio call.

The Yoys were done, even if we were at a toy store.  They began grabbing candy from the so thoughtfully placed shelves in the check out aisle.

UM, DIDN'T WE JUST GIVE ALL YOUR CANDY TO YOUR DENTIST?

Then they moved on to the little toys, hand sanitizers, and other impulse buys Toys R Us wants you to make.

Little E was screeching for no reason.

I began sweating.

I checked my watch again.

Fifteen minutes had passed and no one had appeared with the tablet.

I APOLOGIZE I CAN'T GET ANYONE TO HELP.

The cashier was not unaware of the Yoy hurricane currently sweeping register three.

MAN, CAN YOU HELP US OUT?

My brother finally stepped in.  He is not used to the ongoing chaos my children bring to any situation and he's had enough.

The cashier asks us to bring everything back for him to ring up in electronics.

When we make it back there, we see the Toys R Us electronics guy.  He's the one that's been ignoring our radio calls for a quarter of an hour.  I shoot him a death stare.

He is chatting with some guy WAY too old to be hanging out at a toy store salivating over video games.

The cashier makes a comment to his co-worker about not helping and heads back to find the stupid tablet.

FINALLY, he brings out the tablet.  We've been trying to check out for 30 minutes.  I know it doesn't seem like a long time, but think about the boys.  They are losing their minds at this point.  We probably should have bailed.

But my favorite part of the story is about to unfold.

As the cashier is ringing us up and putting an end to everyone's misery, nerdy video game guy approaches.

EXCUSE ME, DO YOU KNOW WHEN INSERT LOSER VIDEO GAME NAME HERE IS COMING OUT?

Yes, this guy left one employee and approached my cashier to ask him this all important question. The cashier had no idea.

I literally had to hug my arms to myself to keep me from punching nerd guy out.

GET A CLUE!  WE ARE HAVING A NUCLEAR MELTDOWN HERE!  WHO GIVES A SH*T ABOUT YOUR STUPID VIDEO GAME?!

I obviously did not yell this externally.  But internally I did and I gave him his own special death stare.

I will try and work on my internal anger issues.  Externally, I'll forever remain cool and composed.

This better be the greatest present ever.

Rain Rain, Go Away

Little E is FINALLY starting to talk.

It's not that I'm dying to have two motormouths, it's just I was starting to worry if he would ever talk.

He's got a few catch phrases that are sweeping the Yoy nation.

I DID IT!

NO NIGHT NIGHT!

NO TRAIN TODAY!

MORE COTTAGE CHEESE!

Pretty standard two year old conversation pieces, I know.

But then Little E took a ride on the scary train.

He started singing an innocent little tune, although I'm not sure where he picked it up.

RAIN, RAIN GO AWAY COME AGAIN ANOTHER DAY!

Except he sings it slow and in broken english.  And it is creepy as hell.

My brother spent the past few days with us and he may never be the same again.

It's like living with the ghost of Brittney Murphy.  Or that girl from Poltergeist.

I'LL NEVER TELL!!

Sometimes he mixes it up and does a slow jam monster version.

I really need to get this on video,  so I can embarrass him for years to come.

And lock my bedroom door at night.


I so hope it stops raining around here.  I cannot take a third day of this!