I should have finished pre-med

#2 son has an ear infection. Such is the life of a little guy in daycare with an older, germ carrying brother. He has handled it in true #2 son style; sleepless night and Crankenstein behavior. Nothing with #2 is remotely easy, ever. Except meal time, when Henry VIII rears his ravenous head and the little fat king eats, a lot. Which is quite the opposite of #1 son (even now) so at least #2 throws us a bone. But I digress.

So his ear infection is bad enough to warrant a dose of antibiotics, orange flavored. I tasted them and this picky eater thinks they are fine. #2 disagrees, strongly. He took them the first 2 times, then began the violent “NO!” head shake. So I started mixing them in apple sauce and he gobbled them up. Until tonight, when the apple sauce was no more.

TH is out at a hockey game, with my blessing, so he is not here to help with the medicine giving gymnastics. But #1 son is. I instructed him to stand in front of #2 and make funny faces (but not too funny, don’t want #2 to choke) while I administered the evil elixir in a syringe. Worked like a freaking charm. So there.


What mess mom?

Times have changed. I admit to being an anal control freak, whose house will never be neat enough for my own liking. However, between the births of #1 and #2 something happened. I have chilled a wee bit. #1 and #2 sit amidst an enormous mess of rubber containers and lids in my kitchen. While I allowed #1 to empty this same cabinet as a little guy, I still maintained some control over the chaos. (only a few containers allowed at a time, only allowing the mess for about 5 minutes) Since #2 came along, the amount of minutes I can get by myself is much less, so short of chewing on an aluminum can from the recycling bin, whatever gets me those precious minutes is fair game. Especially when TH isn’t home from work yet, it’s dark outside at 5pm, a Pete’s Wicked Ale is whispering to me from the fridge, and new magazine arrived in today’s mail.


Today is a PJ day, or in #1’s words “pajammy” day. #1 and #2 are both in their PJs at 3:20pm EST. The only reason TH and I are clothed is because I ran on the treadmill (done early so I could justify some wine later in the day-and now is technically later) and remain in my leggings and t-shirt, and TH is out blowing leaves. So yeah, we’re all pretty gross. But 2 cases of strep (TH and me, not the germpits…errr kiddos), an upset tummy (#1, I am looking at you) and the ever cranky #2 (seriously, how bad can it be to have every single of your needs met on a daily basis) who needs to be “fancy” (another favored term by #1)?

And dinner has been cooking all day; I got my act together and put a black bean chili in the crockpot this morning, I’ll use leftovers for enchiladas tomorrow. (Are you there God? It’s me, Martha). Yum.

Happy Birthday Beautiful Boy

So the actual birthday was yesterday, but I didn’t have the time to sit and write with all of the festivities. It was relatively low key, a year old really has no clue what is going on. Being the eater in the family, we fully expected #2 to dive into birthday cake. But with 8 people staring at him with cameras ready, he was more bewildered than anything, until I actually put a piece of cake in his mouth, then he started chowing down.

On the topic of cake, my original plan was to channel my inner Duff and make an Elmo cake. My inner cheapskate won out, by the time I purchased the special pan and frosting supplies, Elmo was going to cost about $50. Knowing my creative skills are lacking, I quickly nixed the Elmo cake. TH made a vanilla cake that was so moist it separated into three sections while being frosted. Horrified by his creation he ran to Safeway the morning of the party and grabbed a small cake to have in pictures. The crater cake tasted great, it just didn’t look so hot.

Sipping red wine later in the day, TH and I commented on how we couldn’t believe it had been a year. A year of sleepless nights, tears and stress (and that’s just me). It was also a year of laughs, chubby arms and legs, first smiles/steps/teeth. The first year is a trial no matter how easy the baby and #2 is/was no easy baby. But 12 months later we cannot imagine our household without him, and though he is only a year old, it seems like he has always been here. What was life like before the kids? I am starting to forget. But that may be the sleep deprivation talking.

Ahhh, my ears

#2 is finally teething, one week shy of his first birthday. With #1 we lucked out, he teethed late but was pretty laid back about the whole thing, every once in a while we would notice a new tooth in his collection. There was no fussing, no tears. I told TH months ago, based on #2’s personality there was no way he would be as relaxed about getting his teeth. I should have bet on that. With one tooth barely through the gum line, we have had 24 hours of “MAMAMAMAMAAAAA”, moaning, and general whining. It’s not even 10am and I already need a glass of an adult beverage.  One tooth down, only nineteen to go. I think I am the one who’s going to start whining now.

Halloween from the big box store

I should feel guilty, like a slacker mom. My kids’ Halloween costumes are from a store, not homemade. I never had a store bought costume as a child. My mom made our costumes and created elaborate faces with makeup, no masks allowed ever. I was Bugs Bunny, Cleopatra, a leprechaun, things that involved a wardrobe, accessories and makeup. They took time to create and time to remove once the trick or treating was done.

Not in this house. Both kids have their costumes on hand, and #1 is wearing a mask (the horror). I like to blame it on a dual working parent household, but honestly, even if I didn’t work, the costumes would be from the store. I am not creative and don’t have any desire to become so. I warn my kids early on that their mommy will not be sewing for the school play, or painstakingly paper macheing anything, ever. I will volunteer to help at school events, I will carpool, I will buy whatever fund raiser they’re hawking, but I will not do anything that requires a trip to Michael’s.

So on Halloween I will take pride in the fact that I had my act together enough to actually purchase costumes before everything sold out, and not lose sleep over the fact that I wasn’t up until midnight sewing #2’s devil horns onto a hat.

Pumping it Up

#1 turned 5 yesterday, and we decided to make this a BIG birthday. We celebrated at Pump it Up, PIU from here on out. I came away exhausted and with rug burns from zooming down the slides and obstacle courses alongside people less than half my size, which I am way too old to do. I am so, so glad we subbed out the party vs. having it at home. Fourteen five year olds in my house? The very idea makes me want to stab my eyes out. In fact I had a beer (or 2) after we got home from the party and I had done nothing but visit with guests and play the entire time. My dad asked me how many kids were there and when I said “Fourteen” he was shocked, he thought there were fifty.

The PIU employees had energy and smiles the entire two hours we were there, I was shocked. Until one revealed it was her first day. AHHH, that makes total sense. The first day I was a mom I was all smiles too. Five years later I am but a shadow of my former self, plus we added #2 to the mix.

I have spent my entire Sunday cleaning up from the gift opening we did with family post PIU. #1 needs NOTHING for Christmas, but we now we need to get him on board with this idea.

#2 turns 1 next month, his celebration will be more low key, the highlight being him smashing the cake. I am sure in a couple more years we will be “pumping it up” all over again for his celebration. Unfortunately, I will be even older then, and the rug burns will hurt more.


That’s me, on vacation, drinking wine, without a care in the world. Well vacation such as it is with 2 young kids. Still we’re not home doing chores or working for The Man. A break is a break. The glee on #1’s face by having “9 stay home days” is completely worth it. Though we just got the rates for next summer’s beach house and I nearly fell over. It’s the first year in many we have to go during peak season because #1 will be in kindergarten next Fall. Good God going with the masses is expensive.

My son, the eccentric

#1 son has a costume fetish, specifically super hero themed costumes. He’s not allowed to wear them to school, except for the Halloween celebration, so he gets creative with his everyday clothing, such as blue shorts and blue tee to look like Superman. But lately he’s been adding musicians to the mix. After seeing a block of Genesis videos (Land of Confusion, I Can’t Dance) he asked for dark pants and a white shirt so he could be Phil Collins from I Can’t Dance. Today, he wanted to be Pink. Yes, Pink. We heard her new single in the car last night and downloaded it from Itunes when we arrived home. He decided that he wanted to look like Pink does in the album cover that goes with the single. So it was green shorts and a black top. Thankfully, Pink has gone back to blond hair, which #1 son already has.

Please don’t make me go to school…

These words uttered by #1 at bedtime tonight, with tears. I can’t tell if we’re heading into another emotional growth spurt or what. He wants to quit school and have 100 stay home days. Don’t we all?

You know the worst part? I would kill to be sent to a place where I got snacks and lunch at certain times each day vs. looking at the clock at 2pm and saying “Shit, I forgot to eat lunch again.” A place with an enormous playground where I could run around (eh, who am I kidding, I’d prefer a bar), a definite nap time EVERY DAY (heaven), and the most stressful part of my week is what to bring for show and tell on Tuesdays. Little dude has no idea how good he has it.

I know, it’s all about perspective and my little homebody much prefers chilling in his PJs and hanging out in the family room than going to school most days. Other days he’s begging us to take him incredibly early. But the tears get me every time. I would love nothing more than to call in tomorrow and have us all chill at home. Not going to happen. We’re taking vacation in 2 weeks and that means I have to run around like a crazy loon at work just to enjoy those precious few days off. Then I get to run around like a loon upon my return to work playing catch up. Oh yeah and I have several TPS reports due, like yesterday.

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