Fired up

So I am a tad fired up tonight, as evidenced as my inability to sleep, even when EVERYONE in the house is out cold, and snoring to boot. It's like four a.m. in mom time. Two things:

1) My favorite store on earth has disappointed me greatly (and it took me three tries to spell disappointed correctly!) as they demonstrated both piss poor customer service to two of my friends today, AND one employee was pretty mean and really condescending to two nursing moms. NOT COOL. Granted, it was the behavior of individuals and not the organization as a whole, and upper level management has been notified and is handling it, in my opinion, appropriately. Still, really embarrassing as all I do is rave about the place.

2) One of my favorite mamas told me she liked yesterday's post, as so often she feels like SAHM's get crap like "What do you do all day? Watch soaps and eat bon bons?" As my spectacular failure as a SAHM for a week demonstrates (Bubba woke up this morning wailing for Daycare Dawnie, and this evening at tubbie time I realized I hadn't changed his diaper since morning-whoops) is freaking hard as hell. There is always something to be done- and eating regular meals and spending more than fifteen seconds peeing are not on the list. If I hear "mommmmmmma" one more time I might loose what little mind I have left. Really, I work full time, and I am like what the hell do I do all day? Yeah, I work, but that's so much easier than being relied on to single handedly shape my children into fine, upstanding gentlemen. Now that's pressure. My students passing MCAS is a big deal, certainly, but no one's moral fiber is being shredded if it doesn't happen. Sure, I have to rush around like a chicken from five to six-thirty getting dinner ready, and the like, but really? It's an hour and a half. Don't get me wrong- it is hard to work outside the home, because there will always be someone who thinks you are cheating your children out of their mother, and you do have to actually do your job. I can't turn on Team Umizoomi for my classroom and cross my fingers that their brains' won't rot, like I can at home (don't worry- we watch oodles of Sprout too- gotta get all that education in).

Bottom line, being a mom is the hardest job on the planet, whether you're a single mom, SAHM, working mom, work from home mom, parent with another mom, whatever. Doesn't matter the title we are all juggling (and dropping- um, the diaper!!) the same balls in the air. People just like to judge. It's human nature, I judge all the time too. I just try really hard not to judge other moms. Unless you are driving drunk with your un-restrained toddler in the front seat, while chain smoking with the windows up.

You? I'll judge you, damn straight.

SAHM's are SAINTS.

It's totally been way too long between posts, but I've got to tell, you it should be no shock- holidays are brutal for everyone, especially families. There is just so much to get done. This was my first time hosting Christmas so of course I had to go all Martha Stewart and prepare elaborate meals, buy fine china (at Marshall's, of course), and sew reversible holiday napkins. I mean, really, it's not a holiday table without handmade napkins. Sheesh. We also hosted a Hannukah dinner too, and I attempted latkes for the first time from scratch. Thank god for the sour cream and applesauce, sort of a fail. The brisket was edible though, and who doesn't like coconut cake? I have washed more dishes in one week than I think I have my entire life. It was great though, and well worth it. The REAL issue around here is the lack of daycare. Don't get me wrong, Daycare Dawnie TOTALLY deserves a week off, she's freaking amazing, but I have always been in Florida for Christmas so I never even thought daycare would be closed. As in, I suddenly have two kids ALL DAY LONG. What the hell am I supposed to do with both of them? Bubba is a real life Stewie- "mom, mama, mommy, mamma, mother, honey, hey honey, HEATHER!" and it's never ending. How many freaking train bridges does one kid need made? I ran to buy bottle liners today and came home ten minutes later to find him eating dog food and giggling while daddy dealt with Shrimpy. Oy. At least that's protein, right? Bottom line, the days are frenetic- daddy is working crazy hours, and there are TWO KIDS that need stuff. At least Shrimp can't move. It's crazy. I feel like a spinning top- wash the bottles, fill the bottles, feed the bottles, repeat. Again and again. The changing table is a freaking revolving door of poopy diapers. The dog is even getting in on the action. How am I supposed to finish sewing 89 bibs for no one to wear at this rate? Let alone paint my toenails! I mean, I have to go to Wegman's tomorrow. Gotta look my best. I don't know how stay at home moms do it. How on earth do you get things done, let alone breathe? They're the real heroes in this world. Crazy jealous of their skills. I need to clone myself as an octopus if I am ever going to take on that challenge.

Stay at home moms are SAINTS. I am not at all surprised at the rash of alcoholic soccer moms. I'd drink too.

Diapers

I never thought that I would have very much to say about diapers, but lo and behold, here in mommy world, diapers are key. I bought Bubba those Santa diapers, and you know what? He hates them! NO DIPEY! NO DIPEY! Really, do they feel different from the ones you wear every day? They don't make them in size seven million so I'll never really know, at least, not for another thirty years or so, hopefully. It's a diaper for goodness sake. It goes on your ass and catches bodily fluids. It's not a fashion statement. Apparently red isn't his color. As a baby, Bubba HATED diaper changes. I had a wipe warmer, and used flannel wipes, and eventually it got better. He still won't hold still but if he's on the kitchen counter I can usually amuse him with something for the thirty seconds it takes. Shrimp, on the other hand, doesn't care about the wiping and cleaning, but the second that diaper gets opened and removed? He squeals. Logical really, it's got to be really, really warm in there with all that pee. The air is much colder, surely. He's a piece of cake though- doesn't express his opinion on the diaper, doesn't try to rip them off if I lined them up poorly- a champ. Bubba seems to be really into the diapers though. He is constantly talking about pee, diapers, potty, and poop. Most moms would be thrilled, as it probably means he's ready to start potty training. Unlike others, the thought of potty training gives me chills. If your kids are in diapers you can pretty much ignore their toileting needs when you are out and about, which I tend to be most of the time. You don't have to dump your cart at Wegman's and go bolting into the bathroom. You can just chuck them in the car and take off, and not worry about having everyone pee before you leave. Honestly, the price I pay for diapers represents freedom.

Potty training scares me more than the upcoming week without daycare.

Traditions, Tradition!

You really should read the title with an accent like Topol, a la "Fiddler on the Roof"- at least, that's what I was thinking when I wrote it. I've been thinking a lot about traditions over the past few weeks- those we have based on family, religion, friends, all of them. Like WooBerry- it's tradition for me now to sit there with mommas and eat mass quantities of toppings (and maybe some fro-yo underneath). Toddler Train Time at Wegman's? That is becoming a tradition too. For me, traditions are more than just events or things that regularly happen- they are activities that become a part of who we are. The things that someone will recall when talking about us behind our backs (or in front of us!) As we approach the holidays, I am trying to figure out what my family traditions should be. We're like a good Glee episode- a mash-up. My husband grew up celebrating Chanukah, and I am a Christmas girl all the way. Since Bubba was born, we have celebrated Chanukah too- both boys have menorahs (granted, Bubba's is made out of felt. No flame for him thank you very much)! We realized tonight that this is the first Christmas we have actually spent together- my family (well, my parents and I) have the tradition of escaping to the warm, welcoming, arms of Mickey. I have spent more Christmas mornings there than anywhere else, and that is a tradition in and of itself. My hubs has always had to work, and aside from the Christmas morning when he proposed in a gazebo jutting off into the sea (that's a really funny story. One day, when I have nothing to say, I will write about that!) he's stayed home and worked. Now, however, I'm screwed because I AM THE MATRIARCH. Holy shit. I'm the adult now. I have this whole new nuclear family. I have two kids for crying out loud! It's up to me to create some new, meaningful traditions. Ha. Good freaking luck to me. My parents are coming up this Christmas too, so it's the first time I have ever "hosted" Christmas. The tree will be at their hotel, because really, toddlers and trees just don't mix (we have a fake palm tree in the dining room that can be the stand in- Bubba's tricycle will be there in the morning) but we will go to the hotel first thing in the morning to do the traditional Christmas morning things- stockings, presents, squeals of delight, the whole nine yards. Other than that, Christmas is on my turf. And I can't stop. Wrapping, baking, menu planning. I have a shopping list that is so long I have to actually turn it over to see the rest. It's even arranged by aisle (have I mentioned the Wegman's app? It's AMAZING) I have Christmas Eve dinner, and Christmas dinner to do of course, but it is also JB's birthday on the 23rd, so WHOO HOOO!!! Birthday dinner too!!! This will result in epic amounts of food being created. I was going to get an assortment of sushi or something, but no- I will channel my inner Paula Deen and whip out my apron. It's sort of ugly, but luckily, several people in my village are damn good at sewing! We're talking mango chutney ham glazes, red wine reductions, "THE" crab dip,  goat cheese crumbles meals. Meals I could take pictures of. Squash with prettier skin than I have (the Delicata, of course!) and perfectly polished pecans.

Don't even think I'm dropping the ball on Chanukah either- we're hosting friends that night and there will be matzo ball soup, brisket, latkes with all the fixings, and other such yummy things. We'll light the candles and enjoy a wonderful meal.

So far it's all about the food (and the wrapping, scented pine candles, decorating, and incessant playings of the Rosie O'Donnell Christmas album) but I need some real traditions. Something I can force my children to do for the rest of their lives, and they in turn can make their kids do it. At least one for each holiday. And I am completely stumped. I can think of NOTHING. We already make sure to give to others and do our best to help those in need all year round. When the kids are older, they will actually have to show up and volunteer somewhere to be eligible for festivities (but my hope is that they WANT to do it!) but I need more. Something better than average. I only have three days left until the first night of Chanukah, so I need to get on it. HELP ME PEOPLE!

I need a tradition better than popping open a nice bottle of pinot and saying "MINE!" repeatedly- that just won't fly. At least, not until the boys are of age, then they can adopt it, if they can still afford wine after all of their therapist bills.

Cleaning fairies...

My house is spotless. Unbelievably spotless. There are no crumbs in the toaster oven. The microwave is sparkling. My stainless steel refrigerator has no fingerprints, nor does my glass slider. Did the house elves visit? Has Dobby taken up residence under my couch with the dust bunnies and old crackers? Nope, I broke down and hired a cleaning fairy. A deep clean today, and then bathrooms and the kitchen once a month. It might just be the best money I have ever spent. EVER. Some things I learned? There are socks hiding under every single piece of furniture. She found 27 socks. We counted. They were all clean thankfully, but where the hell did they come from? Are they even ours? Probably. My hubby loves crew socks. A lot. I counted once and stopped at 400 individual white socks. It's an addiction. I'm ok with it because I use them for cleaning (which I obviously don't ever do- so his sock collection is safe)! I wear them when I wash the kitchen floor, which I actually try to do fairly regularly. I have a steam mop and that's kind of fun. I should start making sock animals and sell them on Etsy. Knowing me, they would wind up on Regretsy. Oh, I also learned that bleach fumes give me a headache. It's worth it though. I came home from daycare pick up and marveled at the gleaming countertops, and tile floor (which is a totally different color than I thought it was) and thought, so this is how clean people live! I vowed to keep it beautiful, and actually took a video so I could compare later. Well, it worked. For thirteen seconds. Just long enough for Bubba to find an opened box of crackers in the pantry. You know, the buttery kind that break into five million crumbs with every bite? Yup. Those. The dog helped. Crumbs galore. And I think I saw a sticky fingerprint on the freezer door.

And the bathrooms? My toilet paper even got folded into that cool triangle thingy. Bubba discovered that, and promptly dashed into the bathrooms exclaiming "TRIANG!!!" at the top of his lungs. It's the little things.

Giving

It's totally the season of the credit card. People are shopping like crazy, overspending as usual, and doing their best to help our economy by spending money. I am like everyone else- a frenzied rush to get gifts ready for the appropriate people, even though I swore we weren't "doing gifts" this year, with Shrimp and all. And yet, here I am again. Luckily, we've been fortunate enough to help a few other families this season as well- through the generosity of my village we've donated mass quantities of diapers to a variety of diaper drives, purchased socks and undies for kids in transitional settings, heck, my husband even got a bike for a kid he heard about on the radio! It's not about the buying though- there are people in my village who are donating blood, or cooking for families with new babies (as the recipient of many meals, THANK YOU!) Even if there isn't extra cash there are people making sure to donate their unused hats, scarves, and gloves, so that less people are cold this year. I'm not saying that we can single handedly solve hunger or bring about world peace, but I think that our goverment should be run by a panel of moms. Honestly, I think we could get shit done. If a woman can tandem nurse twins and care for a three year old, all while keeping a smile on her face, I am guessing she could balance a budget no problem. If you can manage three kids under three, the military would be right up your alley. If a mom ran for president (and not someone like that moose hunting freak awhile back) I bet she would win in a landslide. The bottom line is that it's still way better to do things for other people. It's when we think of others that we get the best back in return. Before you form these lovely ideas about how giving and selfless I am, know that I bought Bubba a working vacuum and a Swiffer for Christmas, so he could do more of the cleaning around here.

I may have a philanthropic nature, but I'm not an idiot.

Domestic ADD

Having two kids has totally squelched my belief that I have ADD. For years, it has taken me months to complete certain household tasks, like cleaning out a closet, or even easier things, like dusting the dresser. Scrubbing a toilet. I start, and then wind up doing totally unrelated things, like re-framing photos or playing Scrabble online. Putting away laundry? Forget it. For almost ten years I lived out of the clean pile. Then I had Bubba. Yeah, things didn't really improve. We got rid of a lot of stuff, we moved to a house that doubled our square feet, but things didn't really get cleaner or more organized. Then I had Shrimp- all of a sudden I'm on maternity leave, am not totally depressed, and am horrified by the disaster that is my house. When Shrimp is sitting happily somewhere, I'm like a woman possessed. Laundry done, AND PUT AWAY. In like four minutes. No staring at dresses and remembering what I did the last time I wore it. On the hanger, in the closet. GO. Undies folded, socks paired. Shirts arranged in Roy G. Biv order. Bottles washed, dishwasher emptied. I even feed the dog regularly now. It's like a new type of OCD. Mommy Compulsive Disorder. My husband accused me of sneaking in five hour energy drinks every four hours, which is not actually a bad idea. I could get behind that.

If this MCD continues, I actually might be able to shower without flip flops.

Smart moms

Smart moms do a lot of things. They always have diapers, wipes, and other such accoutrements available, at all times. Hell, they even have adorable bags that it's all stored in. Portable changing pads, little brightly colored bags for the used diapers, everything. Me, I usually have at least one diaper in my purse, and 90% of the time it's unused. If it's the right size is anyone's guess. Smart moms have healthy, nutritious, preportioned snacks ready at a moment's notice. Granola, fruit, homemade yogurt even. I am really pretty  jealous of those moms. At least they are really good at sharing, so I know my kid will never starve! Yesterday Bubba was wailing for a treat in the car. He had been a superstar at the market so I was inclined to give him a treat. However, not being a smart mom, I had limited options in my rolling garbage can also known as my car. Digging around I found a Hershey's Kiss. PERFECT! Bubba loves chocolate, much like his mommy and Lali, so I thought I had scored. Bonus? It's a mint truffle kiss! Who doesn't LOVE mint and chocolate together? I make mint chocolate truffles by the hundreds and they last about seven minutes at work. I unwrapped it and passed it back to him- luckily we were still in the parking lot so that acrobatic feat didn't put any of us in peril. I heard some nom nomming and a muffled "Dank you" so I was ready to roll. The car smelled minty and delicious and I was kind of bummed I had only found one. Things were good. Until I pulled into the garage and opened Bubba's door to hear the screams of "Mess! Mess! I kween!" (yes, he is my child- I was in the OR when they snagged him out, and yes, he likes to clean). It was pretty dark in the garage but when I pulled Bub out I saw the mess. Apparently toddlers DON'T like chocolate and mint together. The car seat, Bubba, and now me, were COVERED in melted chocolate. Damn kisses, why can't they be like M & M's???? We are talking about chocolate explosion here. The nom nomming I heard? He had found a donut hole, which might have qualified as an ancient relic, and savored every bite. Yeah, now if that's not winning I don't know what is! However, I pretended not to see it and whisked him inside to get changed and wash his hands. I promptly forgot about it, until daycare drop off this morning, in broad daylight. That carseat was trashed. Minty and delicious, yes, but a mess. I borrowed wipes from Daycare Dawnie (because of course I didn't have any) and tried to clean as best I could. I had to use my Wegman's card to dig chocolate out of the buckle even! It was foul. It sort of made me rethink my snack protocol, and as I drove home I had visions of preportioned, clean snacks I could keep in the car. I'm not good at healthy snacks, at least, not for me. I do try really hard with Bubba, and he loves applesauce and fruit leather (which I did actually make myself once, until I realized it is way cheaper to buy it at the store, but not at the checkout line-buying things individually is sort of dumb when they sell a big box for 2.99) but for me? Yeah, I'm the friend that will show up for playdate with coconut cake and artichoke asiago dip, with nary a nutritious calorie in sight. Why did I think we could give that to the kids?

Actually, not being a smart mom might be a good thing- mommies do love some coconut cake.

Eh, not so much

I love products. Things that make my life easier are totally up my alley. Like the swivel storer, the product that would revolutionize my spice cabinet forever! Well, I bought it today and it totally sucks. To even fit it in the cabinet I would have to move all the shelves, and it's this crap plastic that would buckle under the weight of my five bottles of celery seed and mass quantities of dill (I REALLY like pickles). I was really disappointed by it, but should I be shocked? It's sold on TV. And in select fine retailers. Which I shall be returning it to tomorrow. It made me think of all the products I do really like though, especially for the kids. The Rock n' Play sleeper saves my ass. Shrimp will sleep in it for at least four hours before joining me in bed, and it fits in the bathroom for tubby time. Well, the time where I watch Bubba get wet while I rock Shrimp with my foot and try to finish the New York Times crossword puzzle. If there was a cup holder in there I would be all set! I can even rock Bubba to sleep in tandem with the sleeper- one hand holding Bubs, and his "blank" (blanket), the other the bottle, and again, that valuable left foot on the base of the sleeper. Much easier than trying to rock both and dropping one. The only other things I think I need to survive having two kids? Jurlique Herbal Recovery Gel, swaddling blankets, an iPhone, Wegman's, and some coconut cake.

Oh, and pinot grigio.

Focusing on the negatives...

I like blogs. Especially ones written by others, because the are actually good writers. I read one that was really awesome- it was about focusing on living in the moment. Choosing to relish things instead of busying yourself with other tasks. In a list format, which I love. Me? I read that and got all snarky with it.

• I am not adept at rocking two children to sleep without dropping one. Don't worry, it was the toddler.
• I am not very good at keeping house. Please don't look under the couch. It's a home for wayward toys, dirt, and dried playdoh.
• I am not able to keep my mouth shut when perhaps I really should. It's just not in my nature, especially if the person I am talking to is being a horses' ass. Just can't do it.
• I am not going to worry about what people think of me. There is too much other shit to worry about, like if my roots are getting too long, and whether I need a pedicure.
• I am not getting said pedicure. Shrimp is not really into being put down, so I don't think he'll snooze through a nice soak and buff.
• I am not good at tubbies. That's daddy's department. When daddy works late, Bubba doesn't get his hair washed unless it does it himself. Still waiting for that to happen.
• I am not good at all when things happen simultaneosly, like when the toddler poops in the tub at the same instant that Shrimp blows chunks everywhere. I don't know which train wreck to address first.
• I am not able to survive a day without at least one coffee, from Dunkin. Well, thanks to a mommy friend, I can make it myself now, pumpkin spice and all!
• I am not about to give up shopping compulsively at Wegman's. NEVER.
• I am not worried about whether these jeans make my butt look big. It is big. I'm fat people, and clothes aren't going to hide that fact.
• I am not good at keeping presents a secret. I gave hubs his Christmas present this morning (mainly so I could enjoy it too).
• I am not good about sharing certain things, like cookies made with caramel. They are hidden from everyone in the house and I am NOT TELLING WHERE THEY ARE!!!
• I am not above locking myself in the bathroom.
• I am not going to worry about how I am screwing up my kids. Society can do that for me, and judge me unmercilessly. I love them to pieces, and that's what really matters.

I guess I should try to be more positive.

Yeouch

Well, let's see- it's 10:30 at night, both Bubba and Shrimp are asleep, as is dear hubs. And yet I'm awake. WIDE AWAKE. My world has been rocked, and not in a good way. You know how you always assume that places will be in existence solely for your benefit? Like Filene's, or Strawbridge & Clothier, or even Borders? I like to live in a little fantasy world where everything good will remain, status quo. I like routine, and much like a toddler, totally dislike any disruptions. My world has been disrupted. My favorite place is closing (and no, I do not mean Disney World. That will never happen, right Disney Corporation? RIGHT?) and transitioning to do different things. Granted, the new incarnation will probably be wonderful and continue to help lots of mamas, but it will be different. I built my village with moms I met within its' walls- the people that love and accept the woman I am, the mother I aspire to be, and most importantly, my children. Yeah, I get to keep the village, but I am losing the physical space that feels so safe. We used to say that they must have piped in sedatives through the vents, our kids were so calm there (well, before them became two year olds- now I know that it's just because newborns are naturally sleepy!) Bubba learned to swim there, and rolled over in the pink room for the first time! My kids have both been naked there because mama forgot extra clothes a few times (they did have diapers on- I am not that delinquent!) On the up side, I guess I won't bother with birth announcements for Shrimp, because the only reason I was going to do it was so they could hang it up with all the other super cuties. I just am shocked, as I am sure many other moms are tonight. On to bigger and better for dear MoCo, but I still  sort of want to chain myself to their front door and wail, like the professional mourners they had in ancient Egypt, and rend my garments with grief. It won't really help, but it might make me feel better.

That and a bottle of wine should do it.

Sticky, sticky, sticky...

Everything and everyone in my house is sticky. Bubba, Shrimp, and myself have the dreaded boogers...makes for some serious misery. The dog is sticky due to Bubba's love of said dog AND maple syrup on his "panks". Yeah, my child still totally drops the second syllable. Although he does say "pumpkin" appropriately now, which breaks my heart. At least I captured it on video! I dug out the humidifiers to help the boogs, and that was sticky too. A little white vinegar and we're good to go. Granted, my entire house smells like a pickle factory, but who doesn't like pickles! There's some good sticky going on too- we recently discovered those stick on wall decoration thingamajigs, and are pretty into it. We are the proud owners of FIVE packs of glow in the dark stars, Thomas the Train, and several Sesame Street. Oh, and there are now Cars stickers all over the boys' bathroom. They're pretty cute, actually. I decided I needed some big girl stickers too, and there are now multiple quotes and sayings adorning my walls. I actually just found a web site where I could make my own!

I might need sticky intervention....

Not so smart...

So Saturdays are lots of fun for a lot of families- especially those with a stay at home mom- traditionally, it's when daddies return and moms get a bit of a break. My hubs works all day Saturday which always made for a long day, with ONE child. Now, with two, they are a rare form of torture. Literally, today I kept emptying a bag on candy onto the floor for Bubba to keep vacuuming up (I can't wait until his own vacuum arrives in the mail- I am sick of sharing!) Why did I have candy? Because I figured that making gingerbread houses (and trains) would be fun! Which is was. Really, really sticky however, and it didn't capture the toddler attention span for as long as I thought it would! I tried to go to BJ's thinking that they have the car shopping carts which would buy me at least twenty-four minutes to shop. Well, they were all in use. So that was a major fail. Back in the car and attempt mom's best friend, the car nap. This SHOULD have worked as Bubba slept maybe a total of four minutes last night due to his stuffy nose. Again, I was killing the environment a gallon at a time for him to giggle and narrate our drive. TRUCK! TREE! TRUCK! Repeat. Shrimp slept, of course (babies are so freaking easy- it's the toddlers that require astounding levels of patience, creativity, and medication-for mommy)! I have finally thrown in the towel- Nick Jr. will remain on until tubby time.

It's only three hours and thirty two minutes away.

What a Village!

I think it was Hilary Clinton who coined the phrase "it takes a village" in reference to raising children, and she was right. People have different names for it- groups, posses, entourage, support group- bottom line, it's the people that help you be the best person, and parent (when applicable!) that you can be! I'm not talking about just people who offer you support, but who actually know stuff. Someone that KNOWS how to rethread a serger, someone who will actually give you a cloth diaper cover and say it's OK to pretend to be wicked crunchy, you know, those people! My village is pretty bangin' if I do say so myself. I've got colorists and makeup artists that are amazing, a dentist and midwife whom I adore, lots of teacher type people to bounce lesson plans and vent to about that stupid "No Child Left Behind" crap. I've got mommies who feed my kids when I forget, and mommies that will literally help me raise me kids when I falter. I've got therapists to fix me, and therapists who are friends to help me over-analyze otber peoples' behavior, and whom I can call when I am convinced my toddler has OCD (which he totally doesn't- I overanalyze, a lot)! I've got neighbors with drills, and a pediatrician who will spend forty-five minutes with me discussing behavioral regression in toddlers...I have lots of foodies in my village to provide me with DELICIOUS things- soups, stews, chilis, chicken, chocolates, breads. My village even has a wino or two to help pair those yummy things! There are the old school members who remind me of who I am, and the new, who reflect where I am going. I've noticed the village is lacking a few key people though.

1. A maid. Do I even need to elaborate?
2. A plumber. I still haven't fixed that toilet (see "Shit Happens" post- again, if I knew how to blog for real, I would link it)
3. A landscaper to live in my garage and rush out and catch every leaf spiralling towards the ground.
4. A dishwasher. No, not even- a BOTTLE WASHER. They are like bunnies.
5. A trainer. Eh, scratch that. They'd be really lonely because I would never, ever spend any time with them.
6. A professional swaddler. My shrimp loves being swaddled and I kind of suck at it.
7. A dog whisperer. My dog is crazy. She is better but still nuts.

I've culled some from the village too- we all know that every village has its' idiot. Don't worry, you wouldn't be reading my blog if you were banished!

Epic Mothering Fails, Chapter One

So today I took my newborn to do a photo shoot with an incredibly talented baby photographer. Luckily, she's also incredible generous, as I arrived with no diaper bag. That means no bottle, no formula, no diapers, no clothes. Thank goodness the photographer (who is ridiculously talented- no joke!!!) took pity on a new mama and shared both diapers and formula with me! My child thanks you! He did a pretty good job- totally has the pouty thing down. This was just the first in Epic Mothering Fails. I have already gone to the pediatrician with no diapers, the mall with no bottle, and numerous other things. Tonight was a shit show as well- a toddler who didn't nap and is cutting molars. It's ugly. He had a dinner of champions- cheetos, freezer pop, applesauce, cheese, and yogurt. Oh, and dried cherries. I'm sure I will pay tomorrow with a crazy diaper. Then I tried to bath said toddler while three week old "napped" in the bouncy chair in the bathroom. After I changed from being showered with water, and changed the three week old from his "tubby" (big brother likes to help!) I got to wrestle big boy into pajamas, and I mean wrestle. It was ugly with a capital U. Finally shod in jammies I thought I was in the clear. Snort. I can rock two squally boys but getting Mr. M down into his crib without dropping someone? Oy. Screamfest part two. I finally had to cut my losses and let sleep training mode take over. A very wise mama told me that the crying will stop eventually which it thankfully did. On to feeding a very hungry infant. Well, you know that lovely feeling of warm puke cascading down your shirt into your bra? No? Well, you are missing out. Now there's puke on the rug, and I still have a pissed off infant!

At least I have the number for a good therapist, my kids will need it!