Monday, February 28, 2011

Ode to Monday.

So far today.....

1) I woke up to powder sugared donuts everywhere. I position foods, snacks, drink, etc to where the girls can get them. I'm starting to rethink this move. I came into the kitchen to find a shirtless, soggy diaper, powdered sugared mouth toddler crumbling up the donuts and throwing them on the floor. Then the child looks at me as if I'm stupid and says "sissy did it".....let it be known that "sissy" was no where to be found, so her blatant lie did no good.

2) As I walk around to assess the damage of these two roaming the house alone, I discover a brown substance on the stairs. I bend down and Holy Monkey it's poop. I grab a nearby wipe and go to town. No dice, this one requires Oxy Clean. Apparently after destroying the playroom upstairs and ditching their shirts, the diaper shirtless wonder pooped then scooted down each step leaving behind a trail. You know, similar to that of a dog scooting on the carpet. Good fun. It wasn't even 8:30.

3) We left the house, ran some errands, squeezed in some me time at the gym and headed home for lunch. I leave the scene of the breakfast crime long enough to walk in my room and back to discover Sophia dumping her entire box of goldfish in my slipper. IN MY SLIPPER! What is that about?!?!!? She goes to eat one and I catch her mid act. I toss the goldfish, clean out my slipper and attempt to lecture about how we don't eat goldfish out of slippers until I realize what I'm saying...."we don't eat goldfish out of slippers"?!??! Why do I even have to put those words into a sentence?

4) I get lunch ready, unload some dishes and by 2 pm attempt to make myself some lunch. As I'm opening my can of black beans, the black psycho racist cat we have comes running. (really, she's whacko) Then I hear the moan. You know the moan no animal naturally lets out unless something is terribly wrong? I know this one too well though. Did I also mention the cat is bulimic? She decided today was a good day to go up to the destroyed playroom and proceed to eat the fake grass skirt brought back from Hawaii for Rylee as a dress up set, come downstairs, let her presence be known and vomit up green stringy skirt goo. Not once, but twice.

I wonder what else today has in store for, it's only Monday! I was given a violent thrust back to reality and hearing faint voices saying "vacation, pssshh, welcome back".

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

When to move on?

It's been three weeks. Three weeks since surgery and three weeks since we lost our baby. And somehow that feels like a lifetime ago. I am trying to get back into a "normal" routine of working out, running, church, etc. Definitely not easy. Most days I'd rather sit at home and sleep. But I don't. Especially with these two crazy cats! I found myself talking to a friend yesterday at the gym and starting to cry. I felt pretty silly crying in the gym, so she made a joke (as all good friends should) and helped me stop before I really got going. But I also left thinking, sheesh Alison pull yourself together! So my question of the day, to send out into the void is when am I supposed to move on? Although another friend said it well "you're not moving on, you're moving forward". And again, this was an early loss, but our second, so I'm having trouble "moving forward". I was told to keep writing, to help my feelings at least get off my chest and somewhere else. It does help. But I also read other blogs or stories and man do I feel like a big baby. Surely I should be stronger than this. Hey, I guess at least I have the worlds funniest two girls to keep me smiling. One who tells me today that she has a date to the new Diary of a Wimpy Kid movie (at least she's no longer calling it the Diarrhea Kid) and one who calls M&M's "beans"....they give me the best stuff to write in their baby books!

Monday, February 7, 2011

Privacy, what's that?

What is it about the bathroom or shower that screams "kids, come in here"? Hi, I'm Alison and I haven't peed alone in nearly 5 years. What's a girl gotta do to get some privacy? We have had talks about it, I have locked doors, I have screamed and yelled, but do I get 5 minutes to shave or a short 30 second trip to go to the bathroom? Not without kids I don't. What was I thinking. I really didn't even notice how much of any issue this was until my girls spent the night at my Brother's house one time. My Sister-in-law pointed out how she was trailed into the bathroom and flat out said "I don't need help" and around they turned and walked out. What the. Seriously, I have said that! I just want some "pee peace". It's a new word. Spread it around. I'm quite sure there are a lot of other Mom's who would love some. And don't even get me started on shower time. We have a glass shower. There is absolutely no privacy. I shut the doors and go as quickly as possible, but about the time I'm applying the conditioner, I hear them opening. And then shut, then open, then shut, then open.....Sophia thinks French doors are fun! How can a hot bath ever be relaxing to that sound? *open, shut, open, shut, open......STOP IT!!!!!!!! I, again, should say that I'm thankful to have these little disturbances, but gone are the days when I could do anything in peace. I mean, I thought that when I had my last child (or so I thought would be my last) that I'd only have to be violated once a year, you know, at that fun Dr. all women love to visit annually. But no, just have yourself some children and you throw that right, right out the window. And let me also note that it seems to get worse once they start with playdates. Last week I oh so naively thought that because there was a friend over that I'd be able to sneak away to have that pee peace I so desperately long for, boy was I wrong. Instead what happened was I hear the little voices getting closer and closer. I open the door and bam, little faces, including that of "the friend" who was over. YIKES! I need a door sign that is age appropriate and means, "turn yourself around and go back to where you came from" when they hit the doorway!

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Sometimes, you just can't.....

There are some things you just have to deal with in life. Today, aside from the frigid temps, it was a poopy diaper. Well, let me say that this is an everyday occurrence. Sometimes I am lucky enough to not deal with it, you know, on Tuesday/Thursday's when my precious pamper wearing sweet girl goes to the Church preschool. Those are good days. I mean, of course I miss her, but a non-poop day is a good one. After recent events, I also have to insert that I am thankful, in an odd way, that I do have poop days. That means I have a precious little pooper and some don't get that special little treat. However, today, was an extraordinary poop day. I'm sitting at the computer stalking Facebook,er I mean, researching and being productive, and "holy mother of goats what is that smell?" Really I don't have to ask, but I tried to ignore it for a while. After about 5 minutes, it permeated the room. Again, I try to ignore it and continue on with my "research". Finally, the Instigator says to her "sissy, YOU STINK!" About this time the phone is ringing. Of course, because everyone should have to endure that rancid smell while on the phone. My theory, you called my house during this whole thing, you should have to suffer via phone wires right along with me. It's my Mom, she sure as heck is going to hear about this one. Since I just went through surgery, I still cannot lift this little diaper wearing gal, so I get the wipes, the diaper and I set up shop back at the scene of the crime. After all, why let the smell ruin another room in the house. We can always move. I unzip the footed jammies, I carefully open the diaper and my sweet word it's worse than I thought. This will be one day that I can honestly say I'm thankful I'm not pregnant because I surely would have lost my breakfast. I take care of the sewage in her pants, properly dispose of it, let my Mom know it's one of the worst diapers known to man and wrap it up. Perhaps in this 17 degree ridiculous-ness, we'll work on potty training. Nobody should have to discover a diaper like that one, let alone have to be responsible for it. Nobody.