Thursday, January 31, 2013

Temper Tantrums: The Smaller the Importance, The Grander the Performance

Yesterday, I suffered through not one, but two, balls to the wall, massive, little boy tantrums.

After each tantrum, I am always amazed at the passion and intensity of them.

I'm not going to bore you with the details, but let's just say it was over a food choice.

Big E lost it.  He was screaming, crying, tugging on my clothes, and throwing food.  A glorious mixture of snot and tears were running down his face.

It's always at this point in the tantrum that I wonder how a simple decision ends up causing armageddon for my 4 year old.

And trust me, I am not unmoved by his performance.  It rattles me to my very core.

Last night, I let my frustration get the better of me.  I slammed the hell out of the microwave door to get him to stop crying.  It startled Big E for a moment, but then he ramped back up.

I needed to put myself in time-out, because I was seconds away from losing control of the situation.

I took a seat on the bar stool, rested my head in my hands, and took so many deep breaths that for a moment I thought I was at a yoga retreat.  Tears welled up in my eyes.

GOD, PLEASE GIVE ME PATIENCE.  PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE.

I glanced up at Big E.  He had settled down to a simmer.

YOU WILL EAT WHAT I COOKED FOR YOU OR YOU WILL GO TO BED HUNGRY. YOUR CHOICE.

I picked up my plate.

I'M GOING INTO THE OTHER ROOM TO COOL OFF.

I left the Yoys sitting at their little guy table, picking at their dinners.

As I ate my dinner in silence, I began to unclench.  I felt horrible for slamming the door like that.  I was laid out by mommy guilt.

Aside from constantly being drunk, I'm just not sure how anyone could keep their cool in the face of such a hurricane of emotions.

After a few minutes, I heard Big E make his way to the playroom.

MOM, ARE YOU STILL MAD AT ME?

I didn't answer.  Now I felt worse.

MOM, I MADE YOU A SURPRISE SO YOU WILL BE UNMAD AT ME!  COME SEE!


And here it is, his forgiveness drawing as I like to call it.

ARE YOU STILL MAD AT ME?

He asked me again.  I sat down on the floor with him right next to his drawing.

I tried to make this a teaching moment for both of us.  I apologized for losing my temper and explained to him that when he acts that way it really hurts my feelings.

I'm not sure how much he absorbed, but he did finally apologize and I felt much better.

Mothering is some serious sh*t.




Thursday, January 24, 2013

Big E: Lady Killer

Today we were killing time at the mall.

On the second level, they have a fleet of motorized toy vehicles that the boys love to climb in and fake play with.

I say fake play because somewhere, some idiot thought that parents would pay $2 per ride and even included a place to swipe your credit card or as Big E refers to it, plastic money.

My kids love to do this.  We go probably once a week, especially during winter months when this former Floridian favors indoor hibernation.

As the Yoys were fake navigating a rocket ship, a little girl approached with her mom.  The little girl was very shy and timid and on the verge of tears.

Big E must have smelled her fear.

HI!

He yelled to her.  His voice echoed throughout the mall corridor.  She, as so many girls do, flat out ignored him.

HI!

He repeated again.  This kid is not swayed by rejection, which could mean he is either persistent or well on his way to being a stalker.

HI!  I'M FRIENDLY!

This time Big E felt the need to telegraph his intentions.  Phew, the little girl did not have to worry about Big E killing her while she boarded the helicopter.

Her mom laughed.  I half laughed/ half rolled my eyes.  My kid is weird.

Unsure as to why Big E felt the need to announce his status.  It's not like he looks like this guy.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

I've Been Blogging For 2 Years!

I've got two years worth of material that I will one day publish into a book and hand out to every girl that wants to date either of the Yoys.

Baby pictures is the least of their problems.

Redemption is mine!




I'll Take Farts and Boogers and Dirt, Please

Saturday evening I met up with Mr. Yoy and the boys for a quick dinner at the Paces Ferry Willy's.

I was fresh off a visit to my friend's house so I could kidnap (err, get acquainted) with her brand new, beautiful baby girl.  The ache in my uterus was very real. After the tour of the nursery, I about lost my sh*t.

LET'S HAVE A BABY GIRL!

I enthusiastically announced my revised family plan over dinner.

Like an iceberg, Mr. Yoy sank my Titanic dream.

Once I snapped out of the newborn baby smell induced insanity, I noticed something very odd about Willy's.  This place was the epicenter of the Buckhead richy-rich private school social scene.

All the usual suspects were represented via sweatshirts and sports uniforms. Pace, Woodward, Westminster, Lovett - they were all there.  And they were intermingling.

I didn't know what to expect.  Maybe some sort of West Side Story gang violence from the overprivileged?

Mr. Yoy and I quickly picked up on the awkward attempted flirting that was hanging over our table like stale cigarette smoke.

Wow, this was actually really fun.  And since Mr. Yoy had run the kids wild at Piedmont Park, they were busy eating everything in sight.  And being quiet.  So we just sat back and watched.

We decided to run to Publix after dinner because we like punishment and thought it was a good idea to take both boys grocery shopping after 8pm.

As we loaded up the car with food, one of the Westminster girls was sitting outside of Willy's, chatting away on her cell phone.  She was completely oblivious to us old people, so we took the opportunity to fully eavesdrop.

YEAH, HE WAS HERE IN HIS LIKE WRESTLING UNIFORM.

YEAH, WE TALKED FOR LIKE TEN MINUTES.

WELL, HE LOST IN THE FINAL ROUND OF HIS TOURNAMENT.

HE IS GOING TO THE PARTY LATER.  YOU SHOULD COME, TOO, BUT DON'T PARK ON THE STREET BECAUSE IT IS GOING TO TOTALLY GET BUSTED.

At this point Mr. Yoy and I were stifling the giggles.  How badly I wanted to be 16 and stupid, again.  And then she said it.  And it stopped us in our tracks.

IT IS SO GOING TO HAPPEN TONIGHT.

She said it multiple times.

I wanted to think positive things that would happen, but only 16 year old bad ideas popped into my head.

From the looks of her, she seemed like a good kid and I wanted to follow her home and warn her parents, that whatever "IT" was, was going down later.

Her call ended and we sped up the loading process as we no longer needed to listen in.

Mr. Yoy began to walk away towards his car.

He circled back and motioned for me to roll down my window.

NOW AREN'T YOU GLAD WE DON'T HAVE DAUGHTERS?

And for the first time in a long time, I was able to shake myself free from the pink envy and agree.



Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Big E: Stick to the Script!

We make the long walk back towards the patient rooms.

Screams, cries, coughing, and sneezing fill my ears.

Is this the doctor's office or some sort of modern day torture chamber.

After a brief wait, Dr. K comes in.  She begins to chat up Big E.  I start to tense up, as I never know what crazy sh*t will come out of his mouth.

Fresh off filling out this lifestyle checklist, on which I claimed Big E eats many servings of fruits and veggies a day, because he does, Big E feels the need to share the following gems with Dr. K. 

1)  MY MOM GIVES ME BROWNIES ALL THE TIME. 

I feel my cheeks turning red.  I try and defend myself.

OH, ONE OF THE GIRLS IN MY BOOK CLUB BROUGHT THEM OVER ON SUNDAY AND I GAVE BIG E 1/2 OF ONE AFTER DINNER LAST NIGHT.  (All true, by the way).

I never keep awesome stuff like brownies in our house, because I would eat them.  The idea of a special treat over here is a Special K bar.  

2)  MY DAD HAD A MEETING LAST NIGHT AND BROUGHT ME HOME A BAG FULL OF CHEESE!

Again, I feel my cheeks flaring up.  But this one is on Mr. Yoy and cheese is way better than brownies, isn't it?

I had no comeback for that one.

I looked at Big E and silently implored him to tell his doctor about all the healthy things I feed him.  He says nothing.

Jerk.

Big E checked out great and then Dr. K dropped the shot bomb on him.  

In one brief moment, he transformed from an engaging little boy into one, hot mess.

I DON'T WANT ANY SHOTS!  PLEASE, MOM!  PLEASE, DR. K., PLEASE, NO SHOTS.

Screams, tears, the full tantrum experience.  Dr. K quietly slipped out, as she is not the shot lady.  In walked the nurse, AKA the shot lady.

I lifted a flailing Big E onto the table.  He was kicking and screaming and pleading.  He got me good a few times.  Again, combat pay, where are you?

I was in charge of one arm, while the nurse was in charge of the other arm.  It took multiple attempts to administer the shots because Big E kept freeing himself and pushing the nurse away.  He may only weigh in at 35 pounds, but he is one strong little Yoyser.

In the midst of this madness, I experienced deja vu.  I clearly remember doing this to my nurse when I was close to Big E's age.  Hello, karma, good to see you again.

The nurse finished up, but Big E kept on screaming.  It took a full ten minutes before he settled down. 

As we walked out, Big E continued to simmer and ramble on about never having to get another shot.  Ever.  All the parents that passed by gave me a sympathetic smile and nod.  

It was bad, but it was over.  And, I even managed to avoid the lollipop trap.  At least I dodged that sugar-coated bullet. 

The Opposite of What Went Down


Tom Petty: The Wait Is The Hardest (and deadliest) Part

Today was Big E's four year checkup.

Let us all take a moment and reflect on the fact that Big E is four.

He is 25% of the way to legally driving.  He is nine short years from his Bar Mitzvah (which because I have birthed zero daughters, will be like a wedding for me).

And he is thriving.  Whatever Mr. Yoy and I are doing, seems to be working.  So yay for not completely screwing up our kid.  Just yet.

I have split this entry into two, because there are really two stories to tell.

The waiting room story and the actual check up portion of the day.

I was especially anxious about the waiting room.  The flu is knocking people down like the Gators' defense (a much more timely reference before the Sugar Bowl blood bath).

I knew I was walking into the Super Bowl of germs and I was bringing my two healthy kids with me.

I never want to come off as crazy germ mom, but I couldn't help it.  My eyes darted from kid to kid. Who was here for a well visit and who was dying of the flu or maybe something worse?

Big E immediately befriended a little girl, before I could determine if she was human or a sick zombie.

They stood at the fish tank and talked about the fish.

ACHOO!

She juicily sneezed directly onto the tank.  No covering her mouth.  Her germs spewed everywhere.

Her mom looked over at me sheepishly and handed her daughter a tissue.

SH*T!  SH*T!  SH*T!

Big E was doomed.

Into the waiting room walked a family friend of Big E's new friend, sick girl. Sick girl's mom went on and on about whatever bacterial thing the little girl was afflicted with and how she's been on medicine, but has still had a fever for six days.

With each horrifying detail, I wanted to grab Big E and sanitize the hell out of him.

Luckily, the nurse walked in and we were whisked away to a different room with probably the same nasty germs.

I asked Dr. K about it and she said it was no worse then what he was exposed to at preschool.  I felt 1% better.

For now, it's Germ Watch 2013 over at the Yoys.

Keep her away from my kids!

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Manners: A Dying Art Form

I was on my elliptical.  Vigorously moving while replaying in my mind every terrible, unhealthy thing I consumed during my trip to New Orleans.

Why yes, I did eat two Crystal burgers laying in the hotel bed after a night out.

My cell phone began to ring.  I didn't recognize the number, but I answered it as the Comcast guy was making a trip out to fix some issues.  Maybe he was calling about what time he'd be here.

Then this happened:

MRS. YOY:  Hello? (I answered very calmly even though I was panting like a dog. I didn't want to scare away the Comcast guy.  I really need to catch up on all my trashy TV.)

RUDE LADY:  Did somebody call me?

It was her tone that was most offensive.  It was accusatory and rude.  And by the way, SHE was calling  ME!

MRS. YOY: No, I don't think so.  (Again, very calm and polite, as always.)

RUDE LADY: Ok! (Then click)

After our engaging conversation ended, my mind reeled with anger.

How could a total stranger be so rude to me?  There were a million ways she could have asked me if a call had been made from my phone to hers, she chose the worst possible way.

Maybe I should return the favor.  I DO have her number now.  How would she like it if I kept phoning her and accusing her of things she didn't do.

RING RING

MRS. YOY:  Did you burn the corn muffins in my oven?

RING RING

MRS. YOY: Did you forget to take out the trash and recycling? AGAIN?

RING RING

MRS. YOY:  Did you remember to pick up Mr. Yoy's drycleaning?

Oh, the fun could go on and on.

But I do have a point, shockingly.

Manners.  What happened to them?  I am horrified on a daily basis of the rudeness of our country.  I just returned from South Florida, so I've been digesting a double helping of rudeness from my time spent there.

It makes me sad for my kids.

But I'm not giving up hope!  My children WILL have manners.  They may be dirty and unfed, but they will say please and thank you and if they FORGET I will remind them.

I pray I am not alone in this quest.

RIP Manners

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Big E is asleep!

Asleep is Yoyser code for I've tucked that creep in like seventeen times and now he is sitting in his room with the lights off playing with some very loud toys and sometimes singing.

Things are looking up for his teenage years.

He appears to be missing the sneakiness gene.

Amen.


Not in Big E's future.

Monday, January 7, 2013

The Yoys Unplugged

Friday pretty much sucked.

We drove 600 miles with the kids, the dog, and two grumpy parents.

Mr. Yoy actually wanted to wake the kids up on Thursday night around midnight and drive back then.  I immediately vetoed that idea, although the thought of two sleeping kids in the backseat was slightly intoxicating.

As much as I love my van, it does not have a DVD player built in.  So I bought a budget DVD  player which has been abused by the kids for the past two years. This week, it took it's final fall to the floor.  RIP DVD.

So that left the Yoys' Leap Pads to keep them quiet-ish in the car.

Except Big E hid (yes, he has starting burying things of value to him, like a dog) the rechargeable batteries at some point over night, and after ransacking my parents' house like we were executing a warrant on Law & Order, we gave up.

BIG E, WHERE DID YOU HIDE THE BATTERIES?

I guess he slept so hard, he forgot.  Location of batteries still unknown.

That left one usable Leap Pad which is akin to having zero.  See Cornucopia scene from the Hunger Games.

I am aware we could have purchased batteries, but as a punishment to Big E (and mostly Mr. Yoy and me) he lost the privilege of using it until the expensive rechargeable batteries were located.

So instead we talked, sang songs, danced, cried, ate, briefly napped and barely survived over those ten hours in the car.

Those contestants on Survivor have nothing on the Yoys.
We will, hopefully, not be doing that drive again for a very long time.

Mrs. Yoy: One Cocky Mother

We just returned from a two week trip to Orlando, West Palm, and a child-free trip to New Orleans (thanks mom and dad).

I went from one extreme of single parenting (at least during the work week) to having my children cared for and played with by their grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

So let's cut the crap, having round the clock help was awesome and I was glad to unload some of the responsibility of caring for the Yoys.

It was such a long trip, that I forgot how tough and intense motherhood is.  I let my guard down.  I was arrogant.

THIS WHOLE PARENTING THING IS A PIECE OF (PUBLIX) CAKE!

Today was the Yoys first day back at school.

At pickup, Big E asked to play in the field with his buddies and I obliged.

Fast forward approximately 47 seconds.

MOOOOOMMMMM, I HAD A LITTLE ACCIDENT...

Dang.  Really?

I'M WET AND COLD!

Shocking, as it was freezing out.

Immediately I scramble my vacation brain into problem solving mode.  Big E is also doing his own version of problem solving.

He has pulled down his underwear and pants and is shuffling his naked lower body back and forth across our Synagogue's entrance.  Seriously.  How have we not been kicked out yet?

Just as my plan is formulating, Little E walks up.

MOM, I POOED.

And he had.

And just like that, motherhood dropped by to give me a swift kick in the a**.

WELCOME BACK, MRS. YOY!  NOW GET TO WORK!
Why don't my kids come with one of these?

Friday, January 4, 2013

Happy 2013!

So I fell in a deep, dark hole named New Orleans.

Sorry I haven't been able to write, but I refused to tap out a blog entry on Mr. Yoy's iPad. 

Today we make the long drive back to the ATL.

With both Yoys.  And the poodle.  And alcohol withdrawal.

Pray for us.

I'll see you on the other side of hell.

Happy New Year to all of you!

Happy 2013!