Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Little E: Perspective Provider

I was playing fake cupcakes with Little E yesterday.  Fake cupcakes is significantly less fun than real cupcakes.  Just in case you were wondering.

Little E put a birthday candle in my fake cupcake and told me to blow it out and make a wish.

I did.

He asked what I wished for.

FOR AN EASY MOVE NEXT FRIDAY.

He gave me a puzzled look.

YOU SHOULD WISH TO HAVE YOUR BEST FRIEND BACK ON EARTH AND TO BE HEALTHY.

I teared up immediately.  My sweet boy.  He is very aware of what is going on, even at his age.

I hugged him close, thanked him, and told him that I changed my wish.




The Yoys: Lost, Then Found

My kids are easy to find.

They leave a trail of their sh*t wherever they go.  They'll never be able to run away from me.  As all I'll need to do is follow the trail composed of their one sock, trash wrapper, and Thomas the Train car.  Just call me Gretel.

At the large YMCA summer camp they are currently attending, this translates into them losing shoes (YES, BOTH OF THEM!), arriving home in someone else's clothes, losing swim goggles, and pool towels.

We are still living the nomadic lifestyle.  All of our earthly belongings are socked away in a few pods somewhere in the metro.  We have very little.  I ran to Walmart the night before camp started to buy four towels for the boys to take to camp.

As of Monday, day six of the Y camp, Little E had lost both of his towels.  And he has only had three days of swim.

More importantly, he left his goggles, which resulted in a 45 minute meltdown during a swim playdate with some friends.  

Monday evening I dropped by the Y to see if I could find Little E's towels and the all-important goggles.

I had two giant bins of camp lost and found to go through.  I found some comfort in knowing my kids weren't the only ones who would lose their heads if they were not attached to their necks.

I found one towel. SCORE! I found another towel. FIST PUMP! And then in the depth of this bin, I found Little E's neon green goggles.

THIS NEVER HAPPENS, BY THE WAY.

I felt triumphant.  I wanted to run onto the nearby indoor basketball courts and high five all the guys playing basketball.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW AMAZING THIS IS?

I ACTUALLY FOUND OUR STUFF IN THE LOST AND FOUND!

I composed myself and walked out of the Y. Head held high. Yoys in tow. Lecturing my kids on the importance of accounting for all their stuff. In one ear and out the next, I'm sure.










Saturday, July 18, 2015

Splinter-gate

Big E came home from camp with a nasty splinter on the front of his toe.

Splinters fall under the same category as loose teeth.  The ickiness factor isn't as high, but it still makes my stomach do leaps.

Big E would barely let me touch his toe. I had to promise I was just going to hold his toe still to look at it.  Because the splinter was approaching the size of a 2 x 4, I knew it would be easy to pull out. If only Big E would let me.

I explained to him in my calmest voice, that I had to pull it out and it might hurt, but only briefly. Like a shot. (I regretted using this example as soon as the words escaped my mouth).

After some persuasion, Big E agreed to let me try it.

We sat down by the window for the most light and I slowly approached his toe with tweezers.  The second I touched the splinter, Big E lost his mind.

Failure.

He cried on and off for ten minutes. Finally, we agreed that he'd go to bed with splinter in tow and Dr. Daddy would look at it in the morning.

That worked for me, as I couldn't take the angst anymore.

I told Mr. Yoy of splinter-gate when he arrived home around 8:30. Big E was already asleep. So we did what any crazy-a** parents would do.

We snuck into his bedroom like a special ops team, decked out in all black, with a flashlight and tweezers in an attempt to remove the splinter while Big E slept.

Mr. Yoy held Big E's foot down and I was tasked with the hard part.  Removing the splinter.

AND I DID IT.

I sashayed out of his bedroom.  Like the unstoppable super mom I was.



Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Mrs. Yoy: Tooth Fairy Sweats

July has started off with a BANG!

After tormenting me for days with his tooth, Big E finally wiggled that sucker out with minimal blood and gore.  Thank goodness!

The relief was temporary as then I remembered the next part in this process: the tooth fairy.

I googled the going rate for the tooth fairy these days, because I am a 90 year old trapped in a late 30s body.  And guess what?!  It's well over $3. Per tooth.  

First, let me thank the good lord that he is not a shark, because this $3+ per tooth nonsense would get expensive. Fast. If I'm forced to choose between funding this tooth fairy thing or new curtains in the house, the curtains will win every damn time. Sorry.

Second, I'd like to thank Greece for its inability to keep itself from defaulting on loans and causing a massive tremor in the world's financial markets, including our own.  Things here are shaky, folks. That's why I've deemed fifty cents to be an appropriate (and fiscally conservative) tooth fairy amount.  He's not in school right now and has no frame of reference.  Things may change once he starts comparing notes with the other first graders and finds out his mom is a scrooge. But for now, fifty cents it is.

Now that the bounty has been decided, I have to work on the logistics of the tooth swap. I really want this to be magical for him. Mostly because we don't do Santa and the Elijah thing is sort of creepy.  He doesn't bring gifts, he just drinks all your wine. Essentially, he's me.

The tooth fairy will give him a sense of magic.  That feeling I had when I would wake up and reach under my pillow and feel the cold metal quarters my folks, ahem, I mean the tooth fairy had left for me. I can still feel the excitement!

This operation must be seamless.  There are a few complications.  Their bedroom door is mad thirsty for some WD-40 and when I open it, it sounds like I'm opening up a haunted house. What if this wakes him up as I creep in? What if Little E, who shares a room with Big E, wakes up and sees me? What if I get the giggles, which I ALWAYS do, at inappropriate moments? What if I can't find the flippin' tooth and I stand there for hours running my hand underneath Big E's head? What if I straight up forget and then Big E wakes up in the morning to his abandoned tooth?

I'm getting heart palpitations just thinking about it.  I have the tooth fairy sweats! I was Mr. Yoy was here. He's so much cooler under pressure.

I'll report back in the am. Wish me luck!