Monday, October 26, 2015

Mrs. Yoy: (NO) Bread Winner

After almost seven years of bon bon eating, soap opera devouring, basically doing nothing from sunrise to sundown, I have decided to go back to work part-time.

Rest easy, IRS, I will not be putting my tax skills to use.

Instead, I have chosen to join the Weight Watchers team.  I joined WW, as a member in 2006, right after Mr. Yoy and I got married.  It was the perfect storm of leaving my 20s, being newlyweds, and just not giving any sh*ts about my food choices.

My pants snugged up real quick and I realized my metabolism wasn't able to burn through a bottle of riesling and a bag of candy corn like it did in my 20s. Willy's burritos and chips 3x/week, while very delicious, is not the model of healthy eating.

I originally joined an At Work meeting at SunTrust and dropped 20 lbs in about five months.  I looked way better than I did at my wedding.  WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THIS EARLIER?

I reached my goal weight, became a Lifetime member, and have religiously attended meetings with the exception of my pregnancies.  I lost my baby weight both times with WW.  I feel very strongly about the organization and I'm very excited for the opportunity to help people.

Also, I think Oprah will be at the new hire training with me.

Saturday, October 17, 2015

NO SHOTS! - Liquor or Otherwise

What a lovely Saturday we had today.  We awoke early and made our way to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens to checkout the Scarecrows, we ate sushi lunch with daddy, and even hit up an old-timey toy store.

The perfect day.  I left the part about swinging by their pediatrician's office to get their yearly flu shot off the daily itinerary.

But as we headed South on Peachtree Street, I had to come clean.  Well, sort of, anyway.

I told them we were going to get the Flu mist, which they had last year.  I had read that many places had run out of the mist due to a shortage.  Deep down I knew that there was a good possibility they would be getting a shot.  But I kept that dark secret to myself.  Next to the one about me, the pantry, and a bag of Skinny Pop. There was no way the Yoys would willingly walk into the building knowing the truth.

I checked them in and I could hear far off screaming.  Oh yes, they were out of the mist. But my poker face is epic and I played cool.  We got to our room and began reading books.  Dr. K poked her head in to say hello and compliment the boys on their buzz cuts. Yes I did.

The nurse walked in.  She was a vision in pink until she dropped two syringes on the metal examination table. CLINK. CLINK.

Both Yoys ears perked up like dogs hearing their treat box opened.


Big E knew the answer before she said it.


And like that.  Things went from chill to OMFG.

Tears. Screams. They clawed their way into the brick cinderblock walls of the examine room.  Their faces morphed into crying, screaming, sweating plums. How they turned that shade, I'll never know.


Um, I dunno nurse.  They have both come unglued. I don't think there is a clear winner in this contest. So, I grabbed for Little E as he weighs a few pounds less.

Big E went for it.  He flung open the door to the exam room and sprinted down the hall.  My kids were all in.  They'd die before they let this poor lady administer their flu shots.  She ran after him.  I half laughed/half cried.

Dr. K walked in to help.  I grabbed Big E off the floor and put him in Dr. K's lap. She held his upper half while I held his legs so he didn't kick the sh*t out of the nurse.  Murderous screams arose from his mouth. I quietly thanked the lord that he'd never have to birth another human.  


And just like that it was over.  At least for Big E.  I turned to hunt down Little E who was cowered in the corner. I felt like a horrible mom.

We assumed the same position and within seconds it was all over.

Three adults walked out of that room and immediately opened a bottle of Riesling, toasted our teamwork, and chugged it down.

Just kidding, but we totally should have.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Big E: How NOT To Get Away With Murder

After a long day of school, homework, Transformers, dinner, and my personal favorite, zombie tag, it was finally time to get the Yoys upstairs for bath and bed.

Big E pulled out an old trick.


I immediately presented Big E with steamed carrots and green beans.  He balked at my healthy suggestions.  If he was truly hungry, he'd eat anything.  But he was looking for something a little more processed and diabetes-inducing.

I took Little E and headed upstairs and told Big E he was on his own for food.


Big E followed us upstairs about ten minutes later.


Real casual, like everything was thumbs up.

I put the boys to bed around 8:45 and headed into my bathroom.  Being a mom is stinky and it was time for Mrs. Yoy to get herself a shower.

Mr. Yoy arrived home from work and asked about the crime scene in the kitchen.


Mr. Yoy was not satisfied with my answer.  When I had left the kitchen hours earlier, it was Type A clean.  I told Mr. Yoy to just wipe it down quickly and it would be fine.  He had his doubts...

After my shower, I put on my big girl panties and went downstairs to face the kitchen.

Um yeah, that's not chalk.  No wonder Mr. Yoy thought I was crazy.

That's a $2 organic yogurt bomb.  Hastily cleaned up with my decorative kitchen towels.

That little turd dropped a cup of yogurt all over the floor.  And he said NOTHING to me about it when he came upstairs.

I dug deep for my CSI knowledge to examine the splatter patterns.  If only I had one of those black lights, I'd catch that killer yet!

Big E managed to get yogurt in all the cracks of my double oven, the cabinet doors, and for the grand finale, he ground the yogurt into the grooves of the floor where it had dried as a sticky film.

So, that's how I found myself cleaning my kitchen for the second time tonight.


Thursday, October 8, 2015

The Yoysers: Out of Sight

I know it is a terrible idea to compare your kids.  And I know one day the Yoysers will read their blog and I don't want them to think I favor one perfect child over the other perfect child.


But for two people from the same gene pool, their looks, their personalities, and their adoration for their mother couldn't be more different.

Big E has always been a student.  This has been documented numerous times. When homework assignments began in Pre-K, Big E was in hog heaven.  And that's saying a lot for a jewish kid.

Little E would prefer to burn his homework in the fireplace and use it for warmth.  Getting him to sit down and do it is painful.

We are struggling most with his sight words.  He immediately blocks out anything with four or more letters.  Those are TOO HARD.  We dutifully go over them each night, and he stumbles on the same ones over and over again.

Sometimes, I just stand up and walk away from the table.  I feel like that is more mature than flipping it over in frustration.

Yesterday, Little E and I had made it through the current list he was working on. He knew all but two.  I got up to finish unloading the dishwasher.

And then something amazing happened.

Big E sat down in my spot and began to coach Little E though his current list and then onto the next list. And Little E didn't scream like he was being murdered (that came moments later when Big E snatched the Paw Patrol book Little E was looking at).

Big E had all these tricks I didn't know about.  I guess I'm 35+ years removed from learning to read, but it's fresh on Big E's mind.

Maybe I'm going about this all wrong.  Maybe, I should be OUTSOURCING this portion of my parenting duties.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Little E: Hitting the Pole

We have just wrapped up the first quarter of school.

Big E has started receiving homework, so yesterday I had both boys sit down to work on their assignments before the neighborhood pack of children assembled for the afternoon and any sort of productivity would evaporate.

Little E has had homework for awhile, and no matter what the task, it always ends with him on the floor sobbing WHY ME?

It's bad.

I asked Little E to start on his homework.  He sat there at the table and had the nerve to sass mouth me.  That's what we call it.  I especially like when my kids tell me to stop sass mouthing them.  It's a one-way street boys.

I told Little E to go to timeout at the bottom of the stairs.  He stared me down. I counted to three.  He continued to stare me down. Who is this person?  Where did sweet, obedient Little E go?

I walked towards the table to ESCORT Little E to timeout.  He got up and ran around the back side of the table.  He had his head turned towards me as he sprinted towards the stairs.


He ran full speed into this support column in the middle of our house.  And then collapsed on the floor.

A few words on the column.  I wish it wasn't there.  But I've watched enough HGTV to know that unless we wanted to spend $$$$$ on a steel beam in the ceiling, this column would remain.

And I knew it was just a matter of time before this column became a crime scene.  And two months in, we had succeeded.  

Little E was hysterical.  He had knocked the wind out of himself.  I think "knock" is too gentle of a word.  His chest meet the column right at the 90 degree angle. He was gasping for air.  


I shouted to my kids.  I forgot they were not doctors...yet.

Big E helped amplify the situation.  He grabbed my iPhone and set the ringer to sound like a fire alarm was going off.  Because what I truly needed at that moment, was a soundtrack.

I asked Little E to take a few deep breaths.  I inspected his limbs and body.  He had a red line down his chest.

I hugged him and calmed him down.

He grabbed the fuzzy blanket and cocooned himself on the couch as he regained the ability to breathe.

And within minutes, he was ready to do his homework.

Maybe that column smacked some scholarly sense into him.