Tuesday, February 23, 2016

The Yoys: Go Fund Me - Our February Water Bill

Today's blog theme is water.

It has been raining pretty much nonstop since we arrived home from Florida.  It's like Georgia is sending us the big middle finger because we have publicly declared Florida > Georgia in football and in life.

So why would tonight be any different?  I only had to fold laundry, cook a new, Mr. Yoy requested, recipe (with more than 3 steps), and finish up our taxes and the taxes of my moocher family members (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!)

My plan was to have the boys to bed by 7:15 and I was ON TIME.  Even with a game of UNO thrown in there after dinner.

I drew the boys a hot bath and quickly tried to fold the remaining laundry.

MOM!  MOM!  MOM!

Big E seemed really concerned about something in the bathroom.  I limped into the bathroom.

THE FAUCET IS TURNED OFF, BUT THE WATER WON'T STOP COMING OUT AND IT'S SCALDING HOT.

Sweet.  At 7PM we have a plumbing issue.  The boys are BEYOND concerned that the whole house will flood.  I washed them, got them out of the tub, and asked them to get dressed in their rooms. 

I then googled HOW TO FIX A LEAKY FAUCET but before I pressed play on the video, I talked myself down.  Who am I kidding?  I am many things, but a plumber I am not.  I posted a message to my neighborhood message board about an after hours Ashton Woods number and within minutes I had a call from my neighbor with the number.  Because my 'hood is awesome.

I called and spoke to a very nice gentleman regarding my plumbing issue.  As he talked me through the next steps I should take, my kids noticed I was on the phone with an adult and that my tone was serious.

They interpreted this to mean they should go absolutely bat sh*t crazy.

Big E sounded the alarm.  ALERT!  ALERT!  ALERT!  This really is such a vital piece to all of your life problems.  It raises your blood pressure and the stress of everyone within earshot.

EXCUSE ME, SIR? NO, THAT'S NOT OUR ALARM.  THAT'S MY SON.  HE CRAY CRAY.

After about ten minutes on the phone, we hung up, and I went to look for my offspring.  The human alarm had run out of steam.  I found them naked in the pantry clutching their tablets.

Because in crisis, all you truly need is your penis and Minecraft.  Each had packed their own emergency kit, which I have included below for your entertainment.

What they did not have: food and water of any kind.  I guess they figured with the river running upstairs they were all good on water.

What they did have: underwear!, pajamas, Rubik's cube, random tinker toy pieces, an eye patch, a deck of casino cards, an eraser, and the new PJ Library book about Purim. 

Lord, I have failed as a mother.




As for my faucet, it was not considered an emergency, so I was told to make sure my tub stopper was open and to keep the boys away from the hot water.







Tuesday, February 16, 2016

The Russian Rabbi

We're at my parents house this week observing Winter Break #2 of the 2015-2016 school year.  What?  You don't have a random a** week off in the middle of February?  Move to Cobb.

My parents have moved about five times since the house where my brother and I grew up in.  There isn't a lot of our old stuff laying around.  My mom gave us the chance to come home and take the mementos from our childhood, the rest was gone faster than you can say:

I JUST CAN'T DECIDE IF I WANT THIS LIFE SIZED GUMBY DOLL WITH BENDABLE LIMBS?!

My diary, my Joey McIntyre posters, and my endless high school picture collages got the thumbs up.  So did my giant Madame Alexander doll collection.

Yes, that's right.  I had thirty dolls with soulless eyes staring at my every night as I fitfully dozed off into my teen angst ridden dreams.

It was creepy as hell.  I didn't realize it at the time, but now that I have had time to digest my childhood, I've seen the light.

So you can only imagine my surprise when my dad brought in a black garbage bag from the garage.  Inside contained the B team of my scary doll situation. They weren't in pretty dresses or wearing ballet shoes. They were tokens from my parents and grandparents' trips abroad.

I quickly gravitated to the one I dubbed the Russian Rabbi.


My mom debated whether it, in fact, came from Russia or Israel, but it didn't matter.  I'm pretty sure it came from hell. Or China.

This guy was in my bedroom for the majority of my childhood and I didn't think TWICE about it.

We laughed about it, and my mom asked if I wanted to keep it.

And that's when it hit me.  Like a big-a** bolt of lightening.

As Jews, we are eliminated from using the Elf on the Shelf to bribe our kids into stellar behavior for the month of December. And I know about the Mensch on the Bench, but a Mensch is too nice for what I'm trying to accomplish.

I innocently called the boys over and introduced them to the Russian Rabbi.  He was going to live in their bedrooms like he had mine and report back to me all the terrible choices they were making when I wasn't around.  Or else he was maybe going to murder us all in our sleep.  Who knows for sure...

Little E began screaming as I gave the Russian Rabbi a really creepy voice.  It was pretty much the best parenting idea I've cooked up in a very long time.

Every breath you take, he'll be watching you.

Shalom, y'all!




Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Big E: The Big Con

Saturday I took the boys to a birthday party at an indoor trampoline park.  It was Sky Zone, but who's pointing fingers?  Certainly not Mrs. Yoy.

We've been to one of these places before, during a weekday.  When it didn't appear that every metro Atlanta child under the age of ten was in residence.

I really enjoyed the trampoline park during our first outing.  With the exception of the ultimate betrayal of my bladder each time I jumped, it was a great workout and the boys were dead tired when we left.

Thank goodness, the birthday party had its own roped off area the kids could jump in.  I didn't have to worry about some sugar drunk thirteen year old landing on my child.  I just had to worry about my own child landing on his foot.  His left one to be precise.

Big E hopped over to me and said his foot hurt.  He sat down and we inspected it. There was nothing glaringly wrong with it.  No bone sticking out between his toes.  He felt fine enough to re-enter the trampoline and bounce around on one foot.  It was like watching Kerry Strug all over again.  Except Big E did NOT stick the landing.



I carried him around the remainder of the party (while silently thanking the lord that Big E is the size of an elf) and when we got home I iced it, elevated his foot, and pumped him full of children's Motrin.

He woke up a few times during the night complaining of pain, so at 6:30AM on Sunday morning, I decided to head over to CHOA to have his foot looked at.  I figured I'd beat the rush.

I would like to note that I had been out late the night before and I didn't end up getting to bed until after 1:30.  If there was such a thing as a fantasy mom league, I'd totally be winning.

Big E did end up having a foot sprain, but there wasn't much they could do for it.  The doctor suggested going to CVS to buy an ace bandage to wrap Big E's foot as CHOA would charge us ~ $1,200 for it. She recommended not using crutches because for a seven year old boy, crutches would most likely do more harm than good.**

Big E milked his injury all day Sunday.  He laid on the couch watching movies and taking his meals and begging for drugs like any good addict.

By Monday, I felt he was ready to start putting some weight on his foot, but he refused.  He cried.  It was hurting him so badly.  I was in no mood for a battle, so I let him stay home from school.

When my kids stay home from school, I try my best to make it the most unfun day of their lives.  No TV.  Lots of reading and sight words. Only veggies and healthy foods to eat.  I want them to understand that being home sick is not a life vacation and I want to discourage any sort of illness faking.



But, alas, I was had.

Big E was helping me fold laundry on the floor of my bedroom.  My mom called to check on him.  I put the phone on speaker and handed it to Big E to talk.  He shook his head no, smirked, stood up, and RAN his lying a** down the hallway.

SUCKER!

**All little boys have the ability to turn the most mundane of objects into a sword or a gun.  Spend a moment watching them.  It's fascinating.




Mom Brag

I would like to announce that for the first time ever, Big E ate his baked chicken tonight without crying or gagging or vomiting or dying.

He just ate it.  He didn't even bother drowning it in the ketchup I provided to help get it down.

I'm not sure this will ever happen again in my lifetime, so I wanted to take this moment to document it.

CHICKEN, AGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN?! - Big E.

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Big E: Shoe Shopping IS His Cardio

I have two sons.

I have zero daughters.

I have extreme clothing jealousy.  As soon as I enter any children's clothing store, I immediately veer over to the pinks and tutus and tights and leggings and sparkles and OH MY GAHD!

I glance over at the plaids and khakis and dinosaurs and tear up.  But this is my lot in life.  I have boys.

I do my best to dress them like little preppy WASPs heading to the country club for dinner.  Classic, neutral tones rule the Yoys wardrobe.  They each have one pair of shoes: New Balance sneakers.  The extra wides keep us coming back time and again.  And I pick out everything.  The boys have shown zero opinion in what they wear, which is awesome, because sometimes I'm borderline ridiculous. See the old man sweaters.

I usually buy their shoes on Zappos, but Sunday I made an impulse decision to drop into the New Balance store by our house.  This was a dangerous move because now Big E would see ALL the shoes.  Not just he gray or navy ones I buy him over and over and over again.

And he fell in love with these:


Ugh.  Bright blue and black? No, sir.  Those go with NOTHING in your wardrobe.  I tried to discreetly mouth to the sales guy that I hated those and to say they were out of his size.  I even winked.

But he didn't get it.

GOOD NEWS!  WE'VE GOT YOUR SIZE, LITTLE MAN!

Um, good news for whom? I wasn't winking to flirt with you!  I thought we had a deal?!

Big E was elated.  He put them on and began running laps around the store.

I LOVE THESE, MOMMY!  CAN I HAVE THEM?

I took a deep breath.  The type A, fashion police wanted to explain why he shouldn't buy these uglies.  But he was so happy.  And I caved, which was a really big step for me.

And then I bought myself a new pair of navy New Balance sneakers for myself, because someone was leaving this store with a pair of them!

And where was Little E while we were on our shoe shopping spree?  He was standing in the corner staring at the headless mannequins.

MOMMY, WHY DID SOMEONE CHOP ALL OF THEIR HEADS OFF?