Saturday, June 21, 2014

Big E: Liar, Liar Pants on Fire

Today, our local fire station hosted an open house for the neighbors.

Mr. Yoy was parked at work all day, so I thought this would be a great way to kill some time.

We planned to meet some friends there, but by sheer luck, half of Little E's class showed up.  It quickly graduated from an open house to a house party.  Lucky. For. Them.

The kids attacked the fire trucks and for almost two hours they were in heaven. We joked about leaving them and swinging back by in a few hours.  The fire fighters did not find that funny.  Not even a little bit.

But they were incredibly gracious and even made burgers and dogs for everyone. While our lazy kids sat in the fire station's new black leather recliners, drank water, and watched Disney on their TV.  I kept expecting someone to bark orders into the kitchen.

BRING ME MY FOOD, FIRE FIGHTER RECRUIT!

After lunch, everyone made their way back out to the fire trucks for one last hurrah.  

If I could read the fire fighters thought bubbles, they would say:

WHY IN THE WORLD HAVEN'T WE BEEN CALLED OUT FOR A FIRE IN THE PAST 135 MINUTES?  CAN'T SOMEONE PLEASE BURN SOME SH*T DOWN?

They handed out junior fire fighter hats as we made our exit.  Big E took his hat and popped it on his sweaty head.

I'M SURE I'LL BE SEEING YOU SOON WHEN I COME BACK TO VOTE.

Yes, we vote here and both Mr. Yoy and I take Big E with us as we want him to get pumped up about his civic duty.

The fire fighter laughed.  I laughed.  It was funny.  I made some witty joke about voter fraud.

I TELL MY DAD WHO TO VOTE FOR!  I'M IN CHARGE IN OUR HOUSE.

Then I really chuckled.  And immediately regretted the voter fraud joke.  

Thursday, June 19, 2014

The Mr. Yoy Media Blitz

Last night, Mr. Yoy appeared on ESPN2 to discuss the recent Washington Redskins trademark ruling. 

As a lifelong sports fan, this was a dream come true for him.  

He came home from work around 9:30 and I helped him pick out a tie so that he'd be TV perfect.  No husband of mine was going on national television looking like a schlepper.  He left the house a little after ten.  He was going to be on at 11.  

I had fifty minutes to make sure I had properly set the DVR to record.  It took me about one.  I had forty-nine minutes for my nerves to ramp up.

Mr. Yoy's nerves are usually cold as ice.  Nothing phases him.  Ever.  It's a quality I wish I possessed and one that I hope my children will inherit from him.

Please let me briefly illustrate the difference in our personalities.

Mr. Yoy's speech at his brother's wedding: Off the cuff.  No notes.  Nothing.  He gets up there with ease and gives a fabulous and funny speech.

Mrs. Yoy's speech at her brother's wedding: First, I drank an entire bottle of chardonnay.  Then I pulled out my extra large print, typed-up speech that I had rehearsed every night in the shower for a month before the wedding.   Who am I kidding?  I had memorized that thing.  I can still recite it today.  Let me know if you want to hear it, I thought it was fantastic.  Anyway, I broke out in nervous splotches all over my neck and chest.  I think I did ok, but Mr. Yoy was in the back coaching me to slow down the whole time.

So when Mr. Yoy casually fesses up that he's actually a little nervous as he's walking out the door, I know this is some serious sh*t.  It sends me reeling.  

Reeling directly to the pantry.  What can I eat?  What can I eat?  

I'm conflicted as I've eliminated processed carbs from my diet.  So those Stacy's Pita chips are just sitting there on the shelf giving me the big middle finger. 

I rip open the Trader Joe's dried seaweed and go to town.  Pathetic, I know.

I frantically text with Aunt Yoy.  She's nervous, too.  We are virtually stress eating together.  She berates me for stress eating things like a peach.

I pace laps around my precious ottoman until it's go time.

And then there is Mr. Yoy on my TV.  Basking in his nerdy love of trademarks and sports.  And he kills it. And I am so, so proud.




Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Mrs. Yoy: Nostalgic or Insane?

The frequency of my blog posts has decreased over the past year.  I have heard the rumblings from some of my disgruntled fans.

This afternoon, as I ran a few errands with both Yoys in tow, a light bulb went off.  Last August was the first time both of my children were in school full-time, allowing me to go places in public alone.  This significantly cut down on blog worthy stories as I wasn't constantly running out of Costco, Publix, or the mall in an embarrassed hurry.

Today was not one of those days.  Today was a classic sh*t show which I will now break down into two parts.  Because so much stuff happened in a span of 60 minutes.

PART ONE

I took Poodle Yoy to the Petsmart groomers this morning to get her hair done.  I had Little E with me and he's happy as long as we swing by all the animals to say hello.  We were in and out in ten minutes.  I prayed that the dog would be ready by 12:30 so I could swing back and grab her before I had to pick Big E up from camp.  But, alas, it was not meant to be.

I picked Big E up around 12:45 and headed back up towards the groomers in the hope she'd be done by the time we arrived.  Nope.  This shopping center has many stores that I can kill some serious time in.  But with both Yoysers?  It's not as appealing.

I decided to park the car in the middle and walk to one end where Dollar Tree is located.  It was a temperate 93 degrees outside, so aside from erupting into flames, everyone was in super high spirits. Absolutely no whining.  I swear.

Once we made it to DT, the boys spent thirty minutes picking out activity books to take on our long-a** flight to Sacramento in a week.  Little E also grabbed some lame ceramic train model with paint.  For a dollar, I was not going to argue about this not going on the airplane.  I was too hot to care.

At the checkout we waited in line FOREVER.  I feel like I celebrated my 39th, 40th, and 41st birthdays.  We finally made it through the line.  I was so ready to evacuate this place after my kids had performed an impromptu July 4th parade with tiny American flags that they swung into everyone they could while we waited.

Except Little E was still clutching the ceramic train model.  Sh*t. Did I pay for that?  I scanned my receipt.  NOPE!

I had to get back in line and wait AGAIN.  He was not leaving the store without it and I wasn't about to get busted for shoplifting a $1 train.

The groomers had still not called, but I was surrendering.  We began the long trek to the other end of the shopping center.  I had my giant purse, and plastic bag full of 15 lbs of learning books, and one Little E barely hoisted on my hip.

I could smell my deodorant working overtime.  Sweat dripped down my back. Little E cried.  Big E whined.  I wanted to cry out.

MERCY!

But, I didn't.  Instead, I counted the steps until we re-entered the air conditioned haven of Petsmart.

PART TWO

Once we arrived in Petsmart, we began another tour of the fish, rats, birds, cats, and doggie daycare.  I don't know why I ever bother with Zoo Atlanta.  The boys are perfectly content in here with the air conditioning.

Finally, my phone rang.  Poodle Yoy was ready.  We raced over to the grooming salon, grabbed the dog and headed to check out.

On the way to pay, the boys began to fight over who got to hold the dog's leash. It was a death match set in the doggie toy aisle.  I was OVER. IT.  I grabbed her leash and strode to checkout, assuming my offspring would follow.

Little E began wailing that he wanted to hold the leash.  Big E wandered off to look at lizards.  Even though I asked him to stay close by.

A woman was waiting by the check out asking an employee about a product.  On the other end of her leash was a pit bull.  I'm not saying all pit bulls are toddler-face-eating-monsters, I'm just saying I'm definitely wary of them.

Little E was uncomfortably close to this dog.  Poodle Yoy was wrapping her leash around me.

MY DOG DOES NOT LIKE LITTLE DOGS.  SHE MAY TRY AND BITE HER.

This information was just too much for me to process.

I pulled the leash so that Poodle Yoy would stay close.  Except she slipped herself out of her collar and began prancing around the pit bull.  So, maybe this is how it all ends?  Not how I expected, but at this point, I can't handle anymore.

I snap back into reality and grab Poodle Yoy and re-collar her.  I'm trying to pay while keeping my children and my geriatric, prancing dog from being mauled at the check out line.

I wanted to say something witty to the lady.

IF YOUR DOG IS SUCH AN AGGRESSIVE ANIMAL, MAYBE SHE DOESN'T GET TO GO SHOPPING WITH YOU AT PETSMART, WHERE THERE WILL MOST LIKELY BE OTHER DOGS.  NEXT TIME, TAKE HER TO SAKS.

But I didn't.  But I did place a request with the cashier.

PLEASE JUST SHOOT ME.  SHOOT ME NOW.

Hey, we are in Georgia and now you can bring guns ANYWHERE!

As I decompressed in the safety of my car, I reflected on the past hour and remembered why I don't run errands with my kids.




Little E: Big Laugh

Yesterday I took Little E to his dentist for a six month check-up.  Our pediatric dentist has a flat screen TV on the wall right above the chair to lull your child into a coma while they are poked and prodded.

The room was aflutter with nurses and our dentist.

WHICH SHOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO WATCH, LITTLE E?

And because my son is the most predictable child in the world he asked them to play Thomas the Train.  Shocking, I know.  He didn't take my whispered suggestion of Orange is the New Black.  Boo on him.

The familiar Thomas tune began playing.  The one that haunts my fitful dreams.

I watched as Little E's face went from smiling to chaos.

The nurse had queued up the Thomas Christmas episode.

I try to steer clear of all the Christmas episodes of their favorite cartoons.  I'm slowly introducing them to the idea that they are different from most people and do not celebrate the most amazing, awesome holiday that ever existed.  It can be a hard pill to swallow for a child.

Little E couldn't hold in his panic any longer.  He screamed as if his eyeballs were burning out of his skull.

BUT WE'RE JEWISH!  WE'RE JEWISH!

I hung my head and chuckled.

So did our dentist and everyone within earshot.

***WARNING.  BAD 80'S CHUCK NORRIS MOVIE REFERENCE***

I would NOT want to be traveling with this kid on the plane hijacked in Delta Force.


And when I say bad, I mean amazing.



Monday, June 16, 2014

Big E or Donald Trump

As I sit down to write this entry, I'm still a little unsure how this all came to be.

We returned from swim lessons around 5:10.  I told the boys I was running upstairs to throw the towels and swimsuits in the wash and then I'd get started on dinner.

In the two minutes I was upstairs, Big E went into the fridge and opened gogurts for him and Little E.  They were sucking away when I came downstairs.

I SEE YOU DECIDED TO EAT YOUR DESSERT BEFORE DINNER TONIGHT.  THAT'S FINE.

I was annoyed that they decided to help themselves to a snack 23 seconds before I began preparing dinner.  But I thought I handled it well.  And let's face it, gogurts have more than enough sugar to constitute a dessert.  Big E would emphatically disagree.

NO MOM, I WANT A STRAWBERRY BAR FOR DESSERT.

I explained that had he waited, he would have had one, but now he was welcome to finish the opened gogurt.  He didn't want it.  He wanted a popsicle.

I calmly explained that gogurts cost money and that even if he chose not to eat any more of his, that would be all as far as desserts go for the evening.

I don't know if camp coupled with swim lessons had brought out a tired monster or if he was just hangry, but Big E lost his sh*t.

MOM, YOU'RE FIRED!

Yes, he fired me.  If I was not steaming mad, I would have laughed.  Realistically, 5PM would be an ideal time to be fired.  I'd skip out on dinner and bedtime, which I consider the hardest part of my day.  I wondered if Natural Body was still open.

OK, FIX YOUR OWN DINNER.  I'M GOING TO GO RELAX.

This sent him spiraling even deeper into a dark, screaming fit.

As I stood at the fridge door, pulling out food to prepare Little E's dinner (who, by the way, was totally on board with the dessert first idea), Big E charged me and tried his best to rip a chunk of my butt off.  He dug his little nails into my shorts and, I'm not going to lie, it hurt a little.  His eyes were filled with rage and tears. All of this over frozen chunks of strawberry.

At this point in the story, I'd like to take a time-out and ask for advice.

Clearly, I'm doing something wrong.  Should I just let him eat boatloads of sugar until he vomits? Do I need to stop buying anything resembling a treat?  Was I wrong to take a sugar stance?

I'm just so frustrated.

He finally calmed down and began eating his dinner like nothing had happened.

MOM, ARE THE BUBBLES IN MY ICE FROZEN AIR?

MOM, WHY IS BROCCOLI GREEN?

I sat at the kitchen island licking my wounds.  Not the butt one, the mental ones.

And all of a sudden, this guy appeared in my kitchen.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Big E: Future Pageant Dad?

Friday afternoon we gathered for Little E's end of the school year program.

His class performed many songs, including one of my favorites, Here Comes The Sun.

Big E was tasked with watching.  Not performing.  Not participating.  Just good old fashioned watching.

This blew his mind.  This was the first time Little E was doing something without his big brother and it was a tough pill for Big E to swallow.

Going into the performance, I would say Little E knew about 55% of the words to the five songs they were performing.  But hey, he's not yet four, so I think that's great!

He was smiling and excited to be performing with his class.  I thought Little E did a phenomenal job. As his mother, I know I am obliged to say that, but I also felt that deep in my soul.  Especially as he shouted out amazing little nuggets in the midst of song such as:

MOM, THIS IS TOO HARD FOR ME!

To Big E, this was not acceptable.

Mid performance, Big E walked up to the stage, not once, not twice, but three dang times to warn Little E that he better up his game.

I WANT TO HEAR YOU SING!

SING, LITTLE E, SING!

I was mortified.  Mr. Yoy was at work, so I was left to shoulder my embarrassment alone.

I death whispered to Big E to sit down STAT.  He was already blocking the twenty seven cameras videoing the performance.  I didn't want some dark, big-foot character skulking across the shot as well.

But Big E was frustrated.

I JUST WANT HIM TO DO A GOOD JOB, MOM!

I told him I understood, but he could not interrupt the performance again, or we would have to leave.

I then mentally scratched Surgeon General of the United States off of his potential future occupation list and wrote down Pageant Dad.  And he'd be a damn good one.



Friday, June 6, 2014

Mrs. Yoy: A Helping Hand

This morning I hit up Babies R Us for a few necessary items for our upcoming trip.

After many trips to the toy store which ended in both Yoys laid out on the floor, tantruming over something as irrelevant as a fan that also happens to hold 12 stale M&Ms, I wisely chose to run this errand without my children.

I hopped out of my car, humming whatever song was just on the radio.  A few cars away from me was a mother.  She had the gate lifted on her SUV.  In one hand was her adorable baby.  In the other, she was attempting to fold a hulking double stroller.

If you have never had to fold and lift a double stroller, it's like dead lifting 100 lbs of metal and cheerios.  It is awkward and horrible.

I quickened my pace.

CAN I HELP WITH YOU SOMETHING?

She looked up with what I like to call crazy mom eyes.

Her toddler was in the backseat screaming.  Her baby was fussing.  It was hot. She was panicking.

YES!  CAN YOU HOLD MY BABY, PLEASE?

I definitely got the better deal.  And I will NEVER turn down a chance to hold a newborn.

OF COURSE, I NEVER TURN DOWN THE CHANCE TO HOLD A BABY!

I gently grabbed her son and held him close to me.  My ovaries ached.

I watched as she wrestled the stroller to the ground and then into the car.

HOW FAR APART ARE YOUR CHILDREN?

She smirked at me.

TWENTY MONTHS!

I excitedly explained that the Yoys were also 20 months apart in age, but were a little older now.

IT GETS EASIER, I PROMISE YOU.  I'M NOT GOING TO LIE, THE FIRST TWO YEARS WERE BRUTAL, BUT NOW THEY ARE BEST BUDDIES AND PLAY ALL THE TIME.

YOU CAN DO IT!

She had tears in her eyes and I felt like what she needed right at that moment was a parking lot pep talk from Mrs. Yoy, the veteran parking lot crier.

She thanked me and was on her way.


Better start strength training before you have kids.  These things are no joke.