Thursday, February 28, 2013

The Yoys: Shake Your Moneymaker

I watched in awe this morning as my sons, but mostly Big E, asked a sweet, old lady who was accompanied by her granddaughter, for some coins to ride the way over priced rides at our mall.

Out of principle, I refuse to give them money for this purpose.

MOMMY IS POOR.  WE HAVE NO MONEY.

I say this knowing with 100% certainty that Big E will relay this nugget of juicy gossip to the next random person he engages with.

I'm sure the lady handing out popcorn samples gives two sh*ts that we are poor and out of money.  But at least she will know about it and can digest that info anyway she pleases.

But back to the Yoys.

They snaked over a dollar in quarters out of this grandma.  Maybe she was trying to buy them off, as they were hovering over her granddaughter as she rode some rides.  Let me rephrase that, Big E was hovering and Little E was crying, as usual.

I tried to give the money back, but she refused.  So I thanked her profusely for her kindness and went to work on my newly hatched money making scheme.

This could be my ticket to finally financially contributing to my marriage!

I love it when a plan comes together!
How can you say no to this lady?

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Big E: Batter Up!

I have only begun to dip my toes into the cesspool known as organized youth sports.

I missed the window to sign Big E up for spring t-ball, but this is a decision not to be taken lightly, so I'm going to over analyze all our options.

If we lived in Dunwoody along with the other 99% of Atlanta's Jewish population, it would be a no-brainer.  We'd sign Big E up to play at the JCC.  With no traffic we are looking at a thirty minute drive.  With traffic (the most likely scenario) we could maybe get there just in time for the 2015 season.

While traffic is a major deterrent, there is a substantial positive to signing Big E up to play in the Jewish kid league.

Are you going to make me say it?

Ok, I will.

He'll be playing against other short, athletically-challenged kids.

And don't say I'm perpetuating stereotypes.  Name another Jewish athlete besides Sandy Koufax?

I'm waiting.

The Gym at Peachtree Presbyterian (much closer to us) also has a t-ball league.

But do I really want to set Big E up for failure?

He'll be playing against giant, strong, muscle-y, blond boys with cool, one-syllable names like Ford or Beck or Blaine.  They've been bred for generations to be tall and athletic and popular.

It's not that the Jewish people don't have their own set of skills, but the sports gene pool generally runs pretty shallow.

Now if this were a league where you had to perform a self-deprecating comedic act or take the MCAT or possibly produce a Hollywood movie, my kid would have a chance.

For now, I'll keep searching for the right fit.






Monday, February 25, 2013

The Yoys: Recreating The Titanic

This afternoon, the Yoys set a bath tub record.

I drew a hot and steamy bath for them after school.  It is pretty cold out, so I made it extra hot and steamy.

They jumped in around 2:15.

Thirty minutes in, I began planting the seed that bath time was soon to be over.

The Yoys had other ideas.

They were playing and laughing and having a great time.  I let them be.

I stuck my hand in the water around 3 to check the temperature.  It wasn't even lukewarm.  It was bordering on cold.

I'm pretty sure I saw an iceberg or two form between the floating boats and balls and cups.

I finally convinced them to evacuate the tub a little after 3.  This has to be some sort of tub time world record.  Maybe I should call the good folks at Guinness?

Who spends that long in the water, anyway?  Especially without reinforcing the water temperature with some hot, hot water and maybe a glass of wine and a good book?

I no longer had two sons.  I had two prunes.

Little E's Bear Claws

Little E: Diaper Changing Strike

Little E is on a pre-school diaper changing strike.

He has yet to inform his major negotiating issues to his mom, but my guess would be something like:

SOFTER WIPES!

MORE BUTT CREAM!

In any case, he refuses to allow his teacher to change his dirty diaper.

Changing him can be complicated anyway, but now that he is injured, I'm afraid to hold him down and accidentally hurt him.  If I'm afraid, I'm sure his teachers are petrified.

After school he came running at me and I could almost see, and most definitely smell, his hot, steaming trail.

If Little E doesn't mind sitting in his own filth for god knows how long, potty training him will be a beast.

I can't even allow myself to begin to visualize how poorly that will go.

Instead, I will visualize myself at the spa.

Mrs. Yoy: Thankful It Wasn't Chicken Pot Pie Night

I ran into Dr. K, the Yoys pediatrician, while I was at Publix this morning.

Our previous public encounter was at the local farmer's market.  She bore witness to some crazy caloric muffin crack my kids were shoving down their throats from the local bakery stand.  I was mortified.

Today was my lucky day.  My shopping list was flooded with vegetables needed to make my healthy, yet delicious and filling vegetable soup.  My cart was a cornucopia of fruits, veggies, and a rotisserie chicken.

She asked how Little E's collarbone was healing.

YEAH, YEAH, IT'S FINE, LOOK IN MY CART!

I'M FEEDING MY KIDS THE BEST, MOST HEALTHY FOODS EVER!

PRAISE ME!  I NEED SOMEONE TO TELL ME I'M DOING A GOOD JOB!

I inched my cart towards her.  Daring her to take a sweeping glance.

After a few minutes of chatting about how I want to put Little E in a bubble because I can't stomach his daily falls, she moved on.

Even if she didn't take notice, I still feel vindicated!

Exact replica of my grocery cart.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Mrs. Yoy: Sh*tfaced


After school today, I threw the Yoys into the tub to wash off their preschool funk.

Their bathroom is set up, so that I sit on the closed toilet while I wash them.  As I sat on my throne and watched the boys play (nicely, I may add), I had the need to blow my nose.

I reached back and unrolled some toilet paper, ripped it off, and blew my nose all without taking my eyes off the boys.

When I was finished, I noticed the toilet paper had brown, crusty spots.  I held one end of the toilet paper and let it unfold.

Then I gagged.

Those spots weren't from me.  They were dried poop.

Big E must have implemented some top secret bullsh*t save the planet platform and decided to reuse toilet paper.  He rolled it out, used it, and then rolled it back.

Little boys are rank.

Excuse me while I go cleanse my face with bleach.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Little E's Collarbone: Part 3 - X-RAY!

My pilgrimage across the Piedmont Hospital campus ends at Building 95.

For those of you familiar with the area, I've just strolled/walked with the Yoys from the parking deck, to the pediatrician's office, to another building while navigating the random and completely inconvenient crosswalk system.  Plus I have my winter coat and boots on and am now breaking a sweat.

We sign in.  Little E finds a cup of pencils used to fill out forms, dumps them out and then tries to drink from the dirty cup.  Yes!

Big E snuggles up to some cute blond lady and begins explaining the ins and outs of his Leap Pad.  Thank goodness she is an elementary school teacher and appears to have endless patience for him.

We get called down to an area where they give Little E a wristband with all of his patient info.

Little E did not get the mandatory hospital wristband memo.  He goes ballistic and begins pulling at it.

NO BRACELET!  NO BRACELET!

I smile weakly at the hospital administrator and continue on to the empty (thank goodness!!) waiting area.

Before the X-Ray technician retrieves us, the wristband has been torn off by the incredible crying hulk. Unfortunately, Little E experienced wristband remorse and immediately cried for me to fix it.

EXCUSE ME, NURSE, IS THERE A BAR IN THIS PLACE?

We head back to the room.  The assistant to the X-Ray technician has the same name as Mr. Yoy's BFF, so I find small comfort in that.

As we walk down the hall, the X-Ray tech whispers to me about the possibility of me being pregnant.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, UM, HELL NO.

Little E hits the brakes right when we attempt to enter the room.  I reach over to pick him up off the floor.  My back erupts in flames.  Little E cries out that I'm hurting him.  I want to cry.

I get Little E in the room and Mr. Yoy's BFF corrals Big E into the room as well, but he has to hide back in a safe area.

Little E is going bananas.  He is laying on the floor with his back up against the door.

I'm given a super heavy apron to wear to protect me from the radiation.

I bend down to pick up Little E.  The apron and the sack of potatoes that was my son about did me in.  Shooting pain ran up and down my back.

I wrestle Little E onto the table and hold his arms and chest down while the nurse does the same with his legs.

Big, wet tears run down the sides of his face.

I feel horrible.

But it is over quickly.

Dr. K called around dinner time with the results.

Little E's collarbone didn't fracture.  It just bowed up.  It'll take about two weeks for the pain to subside and a month or so before he is as good as new.

At least that was the prognosis before he fell out of his chair at dinner.

Maybe I should turn my mom card in.  I'm not very good at this.


Little E won't need a cast, but the doctor said I could put a sling on him to help limit his arm movement.  Um, he won't even wear a winter hat, I'm sure he's not down for an arm sling.

Little E's Collarbone: Part 2 - The Pediatrician

I must say, we timed our arrival perfectly.  You know how I loathe hanging out in the waiting room of the pediatrician's office.  Especially during the plague season.

The boys barely had time to lick the fish tank glass, when Little E was called back.

Big E is all about the doctor's office when he is just an onlooker.  He took the lead, I really didn't have to be there.

Big E explained perfectly to Dr. K what had happened to Little E.  It was like I was watching him present on his medical school rounds.  For a minute, I was such a proud, Jewish mother.

Dr. K had me take Little E's shirt off so she could examine him.

She moved his arm around and checked his elbow and wrist.

I'M NAKED!  I'M NAKED!

Little E repeated this until I finally translated it to Dr. K.

She burst into laughter.

But this how I know she is an awesome doctor.  She casually asked Little E to high-five her with his left arm.  He began to, but then switched and high-fived her with his working arm.

DIAGNOSIS:  COLLARBONE.

Off to the Piedmont Hospital X-Ray department we went.

Not Little E.

Little E's Collarbone: Part 1 - The Pregame

Little E had a 2:15 doctor's appointment for his arm.

We had some time to kill post school pick-up, so we crashed Mr. Yoy's lunch with our friend, Lady A.

Little E came out from school with a box of Purim goodies.  Think Halloween on crack rock plus three giant hamentashen cookies in a square cardboard box.

I wasn't aware of what was in the Purim Pandora's box and allowed Little E to carry "his box" into the Buckhead Bread Company.

We sat down at the table and immediately Little E wanted to open the box.  I gladly did so, as he is sad and injured.

This box would be my undoing.

The Yoys proceeded to fight over its contents, my phone, world politics, and abortion rights over lunch.  I faked out leaving twice, but by the third time it was out of control and I left with the boys.

Once I had the boys buckled in their seats, screaming, I began the traffic laden drive down Peachtree Street during the lunch rush.  Within ten minutes of stopping and starting, Big E was snoring in the back seat.

Well that sort of explains why Big E was the biggest a-hole in the history of mankind during lunch.  That and his 4 AM wakeup.

I let him sleep because I was worried this would be a long afternoon for all of us.  (As I write this Big E has come out of his bedroom 16 times.  But I'm on my second glass of wine and beyond caring.)

Up next, the pediatrician appointment.

Ooooooo. Hamentashen.

The Yoys: Living The Theme Song From M.A.S.H.

We are a sorry sack of souls.

All five of us.  And I'm including Poodle Yoy in this count.

Sixty percent of this family has been placed on injured reserve.

I threw my back out.  Again.  Which, when you have to lift 35+ pound kids into car seats throughout the day, can be quite taxing.  I'm limping around like an old lady.  It is completely not awesome.

Moving on to Poodle Yoy.  She did something wonky to her back leg and hasn't used it in about two weeks.  The pain medicine has run out and she is not better.  Back to the vet we go on Friday.  She's lucky she keeps my kitchen floor spotless or she would REALLY have something to worry about.

And finally.  The little big guy.  Little E.  He's had a rough week, complete with multiple falls.  He's walking around like Bob Dole with very limited use of his left arm.  It is pathetic.

We need a nurse up in this house.  STAT.

Hoping Mr. Yoy and Big E can buck the trend!

Big E: Morphing Into a Feline

It's winter.  It's dry.  Dry skin is abundant.  It's a winter badge of honor, I suppose.

Big E has taken to licking the backs of his hands.  I'm not sure if this is his own personal moisturizing routine, but it is killing the skin on his hands.

I lotion him up nightly, and I'm pretty sure he is eating the lotion off.

Whatever he's doing, is not working.

It pains me to look at his raw hands.  Some parts have started to crack and bleed.

So I'm wondering what is coming next.

Should I put out a liter box for him?

Maybe some catnip?

I think I might start with some gloves to keep his tongue away from his skin.


Big E's hands.  It's what's for dinner.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Just One Minute


I needed one minute to call someone back from our synagogue.

Just one minute.

The Yoys were quietly watching a movie and munching on slices of cheese.

I tip-toed into the kitchen and dialed the number.

It's like they KNOW I'm on the phone.

Poodle Yoy snaked Big E's cheese and he lost his sh*t.  Um, Big E she ate your cheese, not your actual hand.

He came running into the kitchen in full nuclear meltdown mode.

Little E, not to be ignored, followed hot on his trail, flung open the refrigerator door and began unloading the dairy drawer.

I tried to ignore the chaos and write down a few phone numbers.

CAN YOU REPEAT THAT?  SORRY.  CAN YOU REPEAT THAT.  AGAIN?

I appreciated that the woman on the phone didn't make a snarky comment as I know she heard the sh*t show being transmitted via telephone.

IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU'VE GOT YOUR HANDS FULL.

She didn't say that, but that is the stuff I usually hear.

I translate it to mean:  IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU HAVE NO CONTROL OVER YOUR KIDS.

After I hung up the phone, I sat down on the floor with Big E and explained the whole quiet while mommy is on the telephone thing.  He nodded his head emphatically, but I'm sure he'll do it again.

Next up, I have to call SunTrust.  This should be awesome.

By the way, I love this couch.  It is pink and way awesome.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Big E: Polly Want A Cracker

Big E hit a new milestone today.

No, he isn't reading.  Or even peeing while standing.

While trying to get Big E to sit down for dinner, he busted out some new schtick.

It went like this.

BIG E, SIT DOWN AND EAT YOUR DINNER! (this is me, just to clarify)

Big E looked at me and smiled the most evil smile I'd ever seen pass his lips.

BIG E, SIT DOWN AND EAT YOUR DINNER! (this is him, mocking the sh*t out of me)

I was stunned.  First I wanted to laugh, because I know I did this as a child.  

BIG E, STOP REPEATING ME AND EAT! (again, this is me)

BIG E, STOP REPEATING ME AND EAT! (again, my mocking, smiling son)

After the initial urge to laugh subsided I was mad as hell.  This was the most annoying thing he's ever done to me (hmm...maybe not...see every other blog post ever).

OH, YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?  (you know the drill)

OH, YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY? 

That silenced me.  I stopped talking for the next thirty minutes.  I shook my head yes and no and for the most part avoided Big E.  

Please tell me this is just a phase...

If he is going to act like a bird, I guess I need to get an eyepatch and let Big E perch on my shoulder.

The Yoys: Balloon Animals

This evening's fight to the death battle was over a two day old birthday party balloon.

I pleaded with Big E to let Little E have it.  The sound of them attempting to rip it from each other's grip was akin to nails on the chalkboard.

It was late in the day and my patience was scarce.

IF YOU DON'T STOP FIGHTING OVER THE BALLOON I'M GOING TO POP IT!

Big E looked at me for a moment.

WITH SCISSORS?  POP IT, MOMMY!

They broke out into a quite catchy, POP IT chant.

Being the people pleaser that I am, I grabbed the scissors and with a dramatic flair stabbed the hell out of the birthday balloon.

POP!

And it was over.  Except it wasn't.

The Yoys began crying in unison.

I WANT THE BALLOON BACK!  WHY DID YOU POP IT? I WANT TO PLAY WITH THE STRING!

For reals?

It took every ounce of will power to return the scissors to their hiding spot instead of where I wanted them to go (my eyeballs).


Hello balloon, please meet your demise.


The Yoys: A Solution to the World's Energy Crisis

I am the mother to two sons.

I expected the wrestling and hitting and running and wildness and screaming.

What shocks me daily, is the amount of wrestling and hitting and running and wildness and screaming.

It never subsides.  Not even as we are reading bedtime stories and Big E is launching himself from his bed to mere inches away from the churning ceiling fan.  Note:  I did not sign up for decapitation by ceiling fan.

Like Ponce De Leon, I am forever searching.  Not for the Fountain of Youth, but something more in line with the opposite of the Fountain of Youth.  I'm searching for the ultimate little boy energy drain.

If only I could harness this raw energy.  I could plug my phone, televisions, and appliances into the back of the Yoys.  I'd never have to pay a Georgia Power bill AGAIN.

We had two days of cold weather here in the ATL and the kids were climbing the walls.  There was no school today, so I had to dig deep and figure out something to do that would deplete their energy levels.

We dropped my mom off at the airport (tear) and came home.  It was sunny and warm(ish).

Being the creative mom that I am, I invented the ultimate outdoor lame game.

I made the boys race up and down the hill next to our house while picking poisonous berries from the holly bushes to bring back to me.  I timed them and I counted their picked berries.  And like suckers they played along.  For like thirty minutes.  They even stripped off their jackets and requested water.

When the panting took over, we carried all the poisonous berries to the porch and made shapes with them.  See now it's a learning game.  And the boys were happy.

 Big E at the top of the hill, Little E lurking in the shadows at the bottom of the hill.
Who wants to make an octagon?

Friday, February 15, 2013

Public Service Announcement: Beds Are Bad! Cribs Are Good!


Big E woke me up bright and early at 4AM.

MOM, I NEED MORE WATER.

Half-asleep, I pour more water into his cup and put him back to bed.

I was just falling back to sleep when I heard the pitter-patter of Big E's feet.  I played dead hoping he'd turn around and go back to his room.

He began whispering in my ear.  It was super creepy, kind of like something you'd see in the movie Stigmata.  It didn't really sound like he was speaking English, but every once in awhile I'd hear the word "MOM".

I opened my eye and glared at him.

MOM, I'M HAVING TROUBLE KEEPING MY EYELIDS CLOSED.

This whole middle of the night thing is getting way old.  I cannot sustain life as a productive mom if this keeps happening.

GO IN YOUR ROOM AND DO YOUR LEARNING BOOKS!

I roll over and try to settle back down.

I hear his feet again.

MOM, I CAN'T FIND THE NEW LEARNING BOOK GRANDMA BROUGHT ME.

Um, at 4:30 in the morning, this is the least of my concerns.  I finally fall back asleep around 5:30 and make it until our alarm goes off at 7.

I'm tired, but I power through a nice workout and a trip to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens.

Big E ran wild for the 2+ hours while we were there.  I knew how this was going to end.  Before we even made it to full speed on the highway, Big E was sleeping. Shocking as he'd been up since 4.

I was determined to not let this happen.  I rolled down his window.  He started crying.

MY EYES ARE OPEN!  MY EYES ARE OPEN!

We drove home with the wind blowing through our car.  Luckily, it was a mild day.

Big E stayed awake the remainder of the way home.

Mr. Yoy and I are going out tonight and I may enjoy a glass of wine or seven and I will not have Big E waking me up at some ungodly hour.  It's just not going to happen.

He will have a normal bedtime and sleep like a normal boy.  He has to.  I am willing this to happen.

Would it be weird for Big E to be put back in a crib?  I think he deserves it.

A Lesson in Boundaries


Today we hit up the Botanical Gardens as the weather was stunning.

After running through the entirety of the garden and shoving his face full of snacks, Big E had to use the facilities.

As I debated with Big E the merits of standing while going to the bathroom, he informed me this was a more serious visit.  He was going to have a BM.

Side note.  This kid LOVES to poop in public.  I'd rather turn my system toxic than do it, but not Big E.  He is all about it!

I got him all set up and removed myself from the stall as Big E requested privacy.

I stood on the other side of the door and held it close.

In walked a mom and her two elementary school aged children.  They were all talking and Big E caught on fast that there were other kids in the restroom.

HELLO!

Big E yelled out his most enthusiastic greeting from atop the throne.

I quickly shushed him and managed a weak smile at the mom.

OPEN THE DOOR SO I CAN TALK TO THEM!

Unfortunately it had to be in the middle of a public restroom, but Big E and I had a nice little talk about boundaries.

Perfect strangers are not interested in a face-to-face chat with you while you take a dump.  It's just rude and weird.

I'm hoping this will be the last of the random public bathroom conversations.



The Scene of the Crime

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Sleep Deprivation: A Legitimate Form of Torture

Last night, Mr. Yoy was out of town.  I put the Yoys to bed early (6:30) and enjoyed a wonderful evening sacked out on the couch, wearing my fancy sweats, while watching terrible reality television.

Around 10:45, my eyelids began to crumble and I moved the party upstairs to my bedroom.  I tucked myself in a little before 11 and made it about ten minutes into Conan's monologue before I boarded the sleep train.  I had the bed to myself and I was going to have an amazing night's sleep.  I could just tell.

Fast forward 45 minutes.

11:55 PM

MOM!  YOU FORGOT TO TURN THE LIGHT OFF DOWNSTAIRS.  YOU ARE WASTING ELECTRICITY!

I slowly open my eyes.  Usually I hear Big E creep into my room, but last night, I was dead to the world.  I sit up and look at the clock.  It's not even midnight.

BIG E, I LEFT THE LIGHT ON INTENTIONALLY BECAUSE DADDY ISN'T HOME AND THAT SINGLE FLOOD LIGHT OVER THE FIREPLACE WILL DEFINITELY KEEP THE BURGLARS AWAY.  NOW GO TO BED.

He makes his way back to bed.  I zonk out.

12:50 AM

MOM!  CAN I SLEEP IN THE BED WITH YOU?

Normally, I'm dead set against this, because I usually can't sleep with Big E draped over my body, but since Mr. Yoy is in Maryland, I agree.

STAY ON THAT SIDE OF THE BED!

I spend the next hour listening to Big E make weird music with the boogers in his nostrils.  I help him blow his nose.  He turns and turns and turns.  I am not sleeping.  I am irritated.

2:00 AM

BIG E, IF YOU AREN'T GOING TO SLEEP, YOU CAN GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM AND WORK ON YOUR LEARNING BOOKS.

Big E is super excited about that.  He leaps from the bed and I pray that is the last I see of him for the next five hours.  Insert ominous foreshadowing music here.

The next hour is filled with Big E playing in his room.  He is role playing with his fire station.  If it wasn't the middle of the night, it would be endearing.  I'm just annoyed because now I'm wide awake.

LOUD SLAM OF THE DOOR!

I sit up and check the clock.

3:00 AM

I jump out of bed to give Big E a talkin' to about slamming doors while everyone is asleep.

As I make my way down the hall I see the scariest sight ever.

Light streaming out from under Little E's door.  That little bastard went into his brother's room and woke him up.

I was volcanic.  Well, almost.

I grabbed Little E's door handle and was about to make my grand entrance. Except Big E locked the door.  Like a total turd.  I scrambled in the dark for the coin I keep above their door frames.  Big E loves to lock doors.

I finally open the door and fling it open in dramatic fashion.

Big E is leaning against Little E's crib tracing letters in his learning book.

Little E is sitting up in his crib, flipping through pages of his very own learning book.

WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON?!

I seriously was blind with anger.

It's one thing to wake me up.  But to wake up Little E.

HI, MOMMY!

I can always count on Little E to give me a warm and enthusiastic greeting.

I'M HUNGRY!

Shocking.

I'm not even sure what I said as I was so upset, tired, and annoyed.

I amazingly was able to get Little E back to bed.  I locked his door from the inside so Big E couldn't bother him again.

Big E swore he'd go to bed if I'd bring him some carrots.

Whatever, weirdo.

3:20 AM

I was wide awake.  I debated working out.  I quickly talked myself out of that. Instead, I turned on my light and did sudoku puzzles until my brain finally began to relax.

4:00 AM

I finally drifted off to sleep.

7:00 AM

Wake-up time.  My eyes burned from exhaustion.  Now we be the opportune time to become a coke-head.

I'm hoping for a much better night's sleep tonight.  If not, I'm checking into the St. Regis.  Please forward all calls and mail.

Today, I was a Mombie.  It wasn't pretty.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

The Yoys: Begging for Boarding School

The Yoys attend half-day preschool three days a week.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays we all hang out together.  I try and schedule activities and outings to keep them occupied, but sometimes it doesn't work out that way.  Especially when the weather blows, which it has with some consistency every Tuesday and Thursday since we returned from wintering in Florida.

Today ended up being a lazy day.  Little E and I managed to change into street clothes, but Big E is still in his fleece jammies, per his request.

The following occurred all before lunch was served.

1)  Little E fell down the stairs.  Not a super dramatic, Scarlett O-Hara-esque spill, but enough to scare me.  I watched in horror as his giant head lead the way as he somersaulted down three stairs.  He managed to stop himself one step above the hardwood floor.  The whole event lasted about 10 seconds.  Little E then cried for approximately 20 minutes.  Oy.

2) Big E bit Little E for trying to take control of his playlist on iTunes.  There are many things wrong with the previous sentence, but biting is a major NO-NO at the Yoy house.  Big E earned himself a four-minuter in the penalty box.  He cried the whole time.  Little E also cried as he pointed out the bite marks on the side of his torso.  Another oy.

3) On one of his many bathroom trips, Big E mummified himself with a roll of toilet paper.  I thought he was just in there taking a man dump.  I was out of oys.  I moved onto wine.

I know they are boys and have endless energy, but can't we just enjoy a relaxing day at home?  How about building some Legos and doing a few puzzles?

Maybe their behavior is a cry for help.  I translate it to mean:

I NEED TO BE IN SCHOOL FIVE DAYS A WEEK.  ENROLL ME NOW.

Or maybe something even more drastic:

I NEED TO BE IN BOARDING SCHOOL.  SOMEWHERE IN NEW ENGLAND.

I have about two hours until dinner, bath, and bed time commence.  Let's do this!

Maybe one of these guys will be Big E's roommate.  They can play on the football squad together until the big game falls on Yom Kippur and then drama ensues.

Mrs. Yoy: Marked for Insanity

At Babies R US last week, I had a massive lack of judgement.

I blame the colors.  The miniature size.  The kitschy name.  The instant flood of memories of myself drawing in my sketch book as a child.

I bought the Yoys markers.  And a truckload of them, to boot.

In my incapacitated state, I purchased 16 markers.  Or as I have now renamed them, destroyers of all things nice in my house.

The boys did color with the markers some.  Big E even used them to design his appropriately titled, I'M SORRY, MOMMY piece.

Mostly they dump the Pip Squeaks on the floor, take all the caps off, and then leave them to dry out.

If I were smart, I'd let those suckers dry out.  But I'm too Type A.  I end up scouring the playroom hunting down matching caps and markers.  I am slowly going insane.

I'm tabbing this entry for when I have the inkling to purchase a set of drums for Big E or a supersoaker for Little E.


Where is the red cap?  I say, where in the world did that red cap go?

Friday, February 8, 2013

Double Concurrent Naps aka Rapture

As of two weeks ago, Little E decided he was a man and no longer needed a lengthy, three hour afternoon nap.

After I sat three days worth of Shiva over the loss, I finally came to terms with my new reality.

And it wasn't THAT bad.  We could actually stay out and do stuff past 1pm. There was a freedom I hadn't felt since before I had kids.  I was no longer toting around a time bomb set to explode at precisely the same time each afternoon.

I know, I know, I'm supermom.  But please, give me a chance to explain.  In response to our new nap-free household, I've moved up bedtime.

It's 6:30, you say?  Well then bath time begins now and lights out is in precisely 30 minutes.  Don't like the new routine?  Write a letter to the management (she's the one with constant bags under her eyes and a caffeine IV).

But I have a dirty little secret.  Both boys are napping now.  We are going to a program this evening at our Synagogue and I find they are less likely to pull the satan card if they've had a nap.

I'm so giddy, I don't know what to do.  I mean, I know I need to take a shower, but I'm just relishing in the quiet.  I'm enjoying it now, because I know at 9PM tonight when Big E is giving his closing arguments as to why he needn't go to sleep, I will need to conjure up my current feeling of rapture and remember this is all my doing.

Some of my favorite nap pictures.