Be jealous.

Not everyone has the privilege of  having awesome friends as an adult. Sure, sometimes the people you knew in high school carries over into your adult life and you have someone to party with. But then, something tragic and frightening happens. You grow the hell up and start acting like an adult.
That's usually when most people find themselves slightly friendless, or grasping at the threads of what was once loads of fun but is now really just a pathetic attempt to fill your life with something other than poopy diapers and Dora re-runs. You try to connect with other people your age only to find that 1) They don't approve of your parenting methods, or 2) Their parenting methods suck. Even worse is when 3) you're on the same discipline page as them, your kids are the same age, and you think you've found it but then there's something awkward holding you back. Like financial differences, religious differences, or just plain, you've got jack shit in common.
So when suddenly, something wonderous drops in your lap, what else are you to do but act like a selfish little brat on Christmas and keep it all for yourself, unwilling to share the glory of how amazing the gift is? That my friends, is kind of how I feel about our new besties. I'm amazed, excited, and I'll admit it, slightly selfish Because I want to just keep them here All The Freaking Time.
Ok, in all seriousness. I love the new traditions and plans that we're developing with our Besties. And, without getting sappy and emotional, I really do believe that everything happens for a reason, and THIS friendship has happened for a reason.

Ya want to know what I think that reason is? Because when else are Husband and I going to actually follow through with going to the Wonderful Wizarding World of Harry Potter if not with the besties??? I mean really, it's a life long dream (ok, so it's a since-it-opened-up-and-forever-past-that dream) of mine to go to THAT amusement park. And we just so happened to find kindred spirits who want to go as well. So we have started a little Bucket List for the four of us (seven for the activities that include the Monsters). You can view the Bucket List (and my besties blog) Here!

What do you think? Pretty amazing, right? Feel free to add to the list of things that a bunch of crazies will one day accomplish. I'm pretty sure we'll run out of the short term things pretty fast. The first one to be crossed off? A never ending game of Truth or Dare. ;D

The Sh*t My Kid Says

Every day I am amazed by my children. They do incredible things that shock and sometimes even appall me. Monster S is by far and away one of the most intelligent children I know. She says things that are just...Grown. She can hold a conversation with HERSELF and still sound like she is smarter than the other person. Yeah, I know, it's baffling. So in honor of my little smartypants, I've decided to periodically have a post with the shit my kid says. Occasionally I'll set the scene, but sometimes, it's just not necessary.

On the topic of her new drawing and future career:
"Mom, this is a germ. Germs live inside your nose and all over your hands. Germs can make you sick, and that's why we have to get them out of our nose. We should get them out of our nose and study it, because I am gonna be a science-ist."

On the topic of her recently discovered dead fish:
"Daddy, next time my fish dies, hide his bowl so I don't know it."  Lie to her to spare her feelings? Sure!

On the topic of the newly cleaned house:
"Now that the house isn't trashed no more, I can do my tricks!" Commence the tumbling!

On the topic of her Daddy as a baby, to her Nana:
"Nana, I have a question for you. It might be embarrassing though. When Daddy was a baby, did you feed him with your bo-bos?"  Yep, now she'll be asking everyone if they feed their babies with their bo-bos like Mommy. However, can I just point out the incredible insight that my child has on the fact that her Daddy was once a baby and Nana was his Mommy??

On the topic of her sister sitting on a balloon:
"Ha ha, Mommy look at sister. She's sitting on her balloon cause it's an egg and she wants to keep it under her butt." I have no narrative for this, it's mostly just funny.

On her "phone" (read, cell phone shaped lip gloss) with her cousin:
"Listen, how many times do I have to tell you? We have to clean the house, nobody can come over yet. Gosh, just listen already! No I cannot come play with you, I have to help my Mommy. How many times do I have to tell you? Not Right Now!"   Yeah, she's my daughter.

More to come ladies and gents, my daughter is full of hilarity.

The locker room.

Welcome to yet another blog post inspired by friends inside the computer.

So this morning on the Mommy Board (which really needs a new reference name) there was a thread going about the things we all like and dislike about ourselves. Pretty great thread because it really gets you thinking about your best and worst qualities and admitting to them. Mature, open, and honest. All things that generally end up leading to a thread about food. But I digress.
I had a hard time with this thread. I was able to think of many different things that I don't like about myself, settling in on my short fuse and the longevity of my anger. However, I was unable to think of even one thing that I truly like about myself. The only thing I truly enjoy doing that is "me, myself, and I" is this blog. But to say something like, "I love my ability to talk about an atrocious situation and make it damn funny" well, that just felt like bragging and blog promoting. Which generally I'm all for, but really, conceited much?
So instead, I brought the thought to my blog. The Locker Room syndrome.
You know what I'm talking about. It's 5th period gym class, and everyone is in the locker room changing, and all you can focus on is your fat thighs, ugly bra, and that your tummy isn't quite as flat as the girl's next to you. The panic that someone might see you and notice that you are actually spilling out of that ugly bra, and the fear that someone might notice how skinny your calves look in comparison to those thunder thighs. The insecurity of what you are sure is an intense scrutiny of every single aspect about you.
Here is what is really going on in that locker room. Every person in there is doing exactly what you're doing. Examining themselves in the worst possible light. (Except that chick in the corner. She's judging EVERYBODY. But really, that's just what she does.)

So that's got me thinking. I know what I Do Not like about myself. My temper. My pessimistic outlook on just about every situation. My baby fat. My clothes that don't fit. My impatient moods. My forgetful brain. I am self centered. I overlook the good more often than not. I sometimes swear like a sailor. The list goes on and on and on.
But what do I genuinely like about myself??

I feel like I'm a pretty good writer.
I kick ass at a staring contest.
I have a belly laugh. You know the kind? The kind of laugh that just busts out, loud and forceful.
I'm organized when it comes to money and finances.
I plan things, and I am a list maker.
I can zone out noise to focus on other things.
I am pretty good at Rummy.
I am more mature than most people my age, even if only because of the life I live.
I would die for my children, which really given the world we live in, is a pretty awesome trait.
While I am negative about most situations, I can generally think of the positive side of people and rationalize why they act the way they do. Even when they are acting like spoiled little brat.

I've decided to leave the locker room. It sucks in there. Instead I am going to hang out somewhere where I can focus on what I like about myself. A mediation room perhaps? Or the library. My mental library is pretty peaceful.
Great, now I'm imagining the inside of my head to be set up like my high school. *Le sigh* At least I always loved the library....

Friday Funnies

I've been saving these for a day like today!

Hope your day poops rainbows and glitter!

Mommy needs a drink.

When my second daughter was born, I was a stay at home mom with an 18 month old little girl, and I'm pretty sure I thought my life was hard back then. Changing two sets of diapers, keeping up with a little one just learning to walk, and the constant cycle of "Change the baby, Feed the baby, Burp the baby, Change the baby again". In reality my life back then was fairly easy. Monster S was easy to entertain, as she hadn't yet watched every episode known to man of Dora the Explorer and Go, Diego, Go! Monster L was always content to lay on the couch/floor/swing/etc. and just watch her sister running around while I cooked, cleaned, and played with them. My days weren't noisy yet, and it was just as easy to deal with BOTH of them as it had been to deal with just one. I was also always able to get a break at the golden hour fondly remembered as "Nap Time"

Those days are long gone. Now that Monster S is 4.5 years old and Monster L is 3 (as of yesterday!) my house is filled with crashes and bangs. The girls are loud, hyperactive, and in love with the art of wrestling. I very rarely get a moment of pure peace and quiet. When Monster D gets fussy and starts crying, they seem to pick up on it like they have a radar for trouble. It is always in those exact moments that they fight over a toy, scream like banshees, and cause general chaos by jumping on the furniture. Naps are a thing of the past, and I need four sets of hands just to keep my children in check. One set for each child, and then one to hold a very strong drink. Because these days, I'm beginning to feel like Mommy might need to be a little more mellow to handle my wild ones.
At the end of each day I find myself literally collapsing onto my bed (or couch if it's too exhausting to move to the bedroom) and falling asleep within mere moments. This lasts for all of two hours before my Monster D is awake and ready to eat. Even worse, is that he has come down with his first ever cold, and I spend half the night checking to make sure he can still breathe through his congested, snotty little nose. The other half is spent feeding him, changing him, and taking my new favorite tool, The Booger Sucker, to his nasal passages. This always results in a lot of tears, a side of comfort nursing, and about ten minutes of whimpering himself back to sleep. It's pathetic really, and has got me in a state of paranoia about my sweet baby boy. The on-again-off-again sleep schedule of waking every two hours has me so exhausted that by the time 6:30 a.m. comes around and Monster S is getting up for the day, I find myself letting her lay on the couch and watching cartoons all by herself while Monster L, Monster D and myself continue snoozing. So far it is a happy system, untouched by any early morning stirring of her little sister.
However, good things rarely remain untouched by bad, and I'm sure Monster L will be cashing in on all the peaceful nights of good sleep that she has allowed me thus far. Never mind that her brother is more than making up for her good nights with his own bad. I sense a slight chill in the air that always precedes the devil himself. I believe even my animals can sense it, which might explain why they are becoming increasingly fond of the outside world, far, far away from my Monsters.
For those of you who don't know, I used to be a smoker who enjoyed the escape of my porch whenever my children were too overwhelming for me. I have been smoke free since I found out I was pregnant with Monster D and I intend to remain that way. But those little moments to myself with no screaming and just enough calm to regain my sense of control have been calling to me, beckoning for me to partake just once in the soothing effect smoking brings. So keep me in your thoughts, because that's a daily struggle I'd like to leave in my past.
However, I might soon replace it with a nice tall drink each night to celebrate the victory of my children surviving one more day! (I say this mostly in jest, but should anyone feel like gifting this Mama a bottle of wine for the holidays, I probably wouldn't say no! Not that I'd be able to drink it because well, I'm a nursing mommy and my children run my life.)

To another day my friends, that my kids have survived, and I haven't gone bald from the act of physically pulling at my hair to try and make it stop! :)

Why I am the luckiest lady ever

Can I just be the first to say it? Some men are douche bags. I never cease to be amazed at women who stay with lazy, rude, arrogant, and downright cruel men. Men who think they are God's gift to women, and all they have to do is stand there and look pretty (and let's face it, some of these jerks aren't even that fun to look at).
Don't get me wrong, I know when a relationship starts, no one thinks to themselves "Oh my gracious, I am just so excited that this man treats me like dirt! I can not wait to be in a tangled up web of lies and hurt!" But there does come a point in time when every woman needs realize whether or not they have a good man or a shit man. I, my friends, have a good man.
When I talk with my friends (ok, they're in the computer, but they count!!) and hear all about the way their men treat them I realize, I don't have it as bad as I sometimes think I do. Not that I think I have it bad with Husband. I just get a little more frustrated and irritated than necessary when he's playing Call of Duty at night when the girls go to bed. Or when he falls asleep on the couch right before dinner. Or...ya know what, we'll just leave it at that.
Some women deal with men who use their children as leverage. Men who sit on the couch All Day Long playing video games while she works. Men who have leave them alone and helpless with a baby while they take off to party, hang out with friends, or just plain leave them. Men who walk away from their marriage the week before their baby is born. Men who are just plain and simple, douche bags.
And while my heart goes out to these women, I selfishly think to myself, "Well hot damn, I've got a good one. Go me!" But then I go back to cheer them on as they stand up for themselves and take control. Because behind every douche bag is a woman who will eventually snap. Who will kick these boys to the curb. Walk away from a custody battle a winner. Raise a sweet baby boy to be a Real Man and not some fake imitation who only takes care of his responsibilities when he's trying to get some action.

I stop to think to myself that I actually feel bad for my Husband, because I'm pretty sure I got the better deal out of our marriage than he did.
Which is funny, because he's so amazing, he'd probably say the same thing back to me.