I suck THAT bad...

My little darling child, bless her heart, will do just about ANYTHING to delay bedtime. If EVER, at any time, we have fallen for one of her evil ploys, she has added it to her arsenal of which she pulls her many excuses each night.

There was a time, I suppose, when we were naive enough to believe that she actually had to go to the bathroom, really did need something to eat, honestly had a spontaneous "owie" that needed urgent medical attention. Now, we know better. And she's no dummy. Once she realized we'd wised up a bit, she started hitting below the belt. With things like, "But Mommy, I just want to kiss you one more time." "Please Daddy, I just want you to lay with me one minute." But rest assured, one minute doesn't ever actually mean one minute. One minute means, "Ha ha sucker! I knew I could lure you! Now you're mine for the next 15!"

So, fast forward to tonight. My husband had plans so the tucking in duties were left to me alone. I went through the routine- offer her a snack about 15 minutes before bed, make her sit on the potty for a minute, get her a glass a water. I brought my "A" game to this tuck in, I was determined not to be outplayed by a 3-year old. And you know what she says to me at the moment of truth. The moment when she is supposed to be begging me to stay and clinging to my very soul for one more moment of wakeful attention.

She says matter of factly, "Mommy, Daddy tells me the story about balloons. " To which I reply, "Ok honey, I can tell you a story about balloons!" Feeling like one story is a reasonable request.

She looks me right in the eye and with the straightest little face says, "No thanks," And turns her head away to twirl her hair and fall into slumber.

NO THANKS???? This, from a kid who would sacrifice her favorite stuffed animal in a heartbeat if it meant she could stay up just 3 more minutes! This from a kid who would fake a ruptured spleen if it meant she could get rocked just a little extra. But the apparent thought of enduring a nighttime story from Yours Truly is so appalling that she mutters a polite "no thanks."

Point taken, Sweat Pea, point taken...

A lonely heart

All my readers know there are just some things about pregnancy that simply don't agree with me. Excruciating back pain- check. Non stop heartburn- check. Inability to throw back a grande-sized margarita- check. 9 months of general ill-being- check. But what you may have failed to realize is that there is one pregnancy offense, something so horrible that even most Mommy-to-be books don't dare whisper it for fear that the species would eventually die out. I'm reluctant to even udder the words...

But I feel compelled to vent this atrocious offense, maybe it will be cleansing for my soul? So here goes--- (disclaimer- those of you trying to have a baby right now- stop reading!) Did you know, that you will constantly feel a sense of emptiness and you will long, long like a crack addict for his next fix, like an alcoholic for his next drink, like Paris Hilton for her next purse-sized bejeweled dog, to just wear your favorite pair of jeans? You can't imagine the vast loneliness you will feel each time you see some unsuspecting lady at the mall, prancing around in her perfect jeans. Mine are "!IT" brand, "Sophie" cut. Sometimes I get them out of the closet, just to smell them. I talk to them, tell them I miss them and that I will do everything in my calorie-counting power to reunite with them one day soon. You may think I am being dramatic... I get that, I do. But until you've walked in my shoes- my ever expanding, ugly-ass practical, missing my stilettos, pregnant lady shoes, you can't judge me.

And on top of being separated from them for 9 months, on top of the humongous task of losing the baby weight in order actually fit my post-baby body in them, there is always the chance that they won't be in style when it's all said and done. I mean, turn to any page of People or Us Weekly and all that the celebs are wearing is "skinny jeans." Let me tell you something about skinny jeans. First of all- been there done that. It was called circa 1989 and they were called tapered and we vowed as women to never be subjected to such ugliness again. Second of all, unless you are actually "SKINNY," like, supermodel, smoke your lunch, SKINNY, these jeans will look like crap on you. So PLEASE, for the sake of sane women everywhere, do not even think about purchasing a pair of these evil denim leggings and perpetuating this fad. Just ask yourself, do you really want to mimic Lindsay Lohan anyway?

Conversations with a 3-year old

So it's that time of year- time for the annual Well-Child checkup for my now 3-year old. So today I picked her up midday, we went to the doctor, all was well and she was duly traumatized by getting her finger pricked and having a flu shot jabbed into her thigh. 4 bandaids, 3 stickers and one pronounced limp later, we were on our way. We stopped at the local food court to grab some lunch and I quickly pocketed the little toy that came with our meal. After finishing our meal, here is how the conversation unfolded:

Me: "Honey I am so proud of you! You were such a big girl getting a shot and everything today." (thinking to self how much of a wuss she actually was... but she's 3 and I'm sure it's scary- I get that)


Daughter: "Yep, I'm brave. That that that (she stutters when she's excited) lady poked me and made me bleeded and I had to get a bandaid." (in her MOST accusatory tone)

Me: "I know sweetie. And I just wanted to let you know that Mommy has a special present for you for being so brave." (white lies people, white lies! We don't want her being terrified of all things medical for the next 30 years!)

Daughter: (eyes light up) "What is it?"

Me: (pulling little toy camera from kids meal at Sbarro out of purse) "Well, I know how much you like taking pictures, so I got you this little camera."

Daughter: (smile dissipating) "Mommy did you buy this for me?"

Me: "Yes I did honey. I knew how much you'd like it and you've been so brave!"

Daughter: (looking skeptical and confused now) "But Mommy, I thought that man in the funny hat gave it to you with my lunch?"


Great- now I'm a big fat stupid liar to my kid! To my credit- I hand selected the "camera toy" AND I am the one that shelled out $4.79 for a gigantic piece of pizza I knew she'd eat like 2 pieces of. So technically, I did buy her that toy...

Yep... I'm there

So, I just took a huge plunge into a gi-normous pool of crazy. And honestly, I know it and I see it but I just can't seem to stop it!

Here's the deal- and let me make the disclaimer that I swear my kid isn't spoiled- we don't wear Baby Gap or Gymboree (ok there was that one ADORABLE outfit last fall but I swear that's the only time! And it had little leaves embroidered all over it... you surely understand that?) Our living room doesn't look like a ToysRUs outlet store. In fact, if you'd walk into my house you'd notice there isn't a toy in sight. She gets the toy box in her bedroom and one cupboard in the living room to store her precious Made in China gems.

I make this disclaimer because what I am about to tell you might make me sound like some kind of crazy stalker mom, of the likes that knocked down their opponents in the 80's to get their hands on a Cabbage Patch Kid at Christmas time. (PS- thank you mom- Edwin Kevin still holds that special place in my hear that only a curly-haired, plastic-faced, boy doll with two first names can hold)

So, maybe you know that McDonalds Happy Meals right now are giving away little Wizard of Oz figurines. And I swear, my unspoiled kid doesn't even get to eat McDonalds food, I only knew about the dolls because my penny pinching friend dragged me there for the $1.99 Wednesday special they have. So, anyway, I discover they are giving away these adorable dolls and I decide to get one of each figurine for my daughter because she just happens to be obsessed with the Wizard of Oz. I mean, she is actually going to be Dorothy for Halloween, so I'm not exaggerating here. Well it turns out there are 12 dolls total (shit, right?). And well, to make a long story short, since I was traveling across the state for work this week anyway, I stopped at every McDonalds along a 200 miles stretch of interstate and 12 Happy Meals later I have a complete set! I mean sure, my OB doctor is going to hack up a lung when they discover that I've gained 18 pounds in the last 2 weeks thanks to an excess of McNuggets but won't it all be worth it when my little girl gets her dollies???

Final question- save the set until Christmas or wuss out and give them to her now because I can't wait?

Antics of a 3-year old

My 3-year old knows things. And one thing she knows is that you don't piss Momma off. Why? Because although I love her dearly, although I think about her all the time, although her stinkin' little smiles break my heart they are so cute, I will NOT have a brat for a child. She knows she can't sass back. She knows she can't whine her way out of something. And she dang well knows that if I threaten a punishment I'm going to follow through. So... she has learned. She has mastered the art of pushing my buttons and finally gotten ahold of something that drives me bonkers but that is hard for me to discipline.


I call it the Momma Squish. When she is really mad at me, like tonight when I called her "pokey butt" for her inability to put her foot into her pajamas in a timely manner (like, I've actually seen a field of Iowa corn grow faster than her ability to clothe herself), she squints her eyes up all mean, she puts her little fingers up by her eye, she carefully places my head in the little space she can see between her finger and her thumb, and she abruptly, ruthlessly, pinches her fingers together- thereby squooshing my proverbial head in her hand. She looks so smug and satisfied when she is done and just looks away indifferently, like "That's right bee-otch! I just pretended to squish your head like a ripe tomato and I ENJOYED it! And I don't even have to look at you to know that you aren't going to do a dang thing about it. (insert evil laughter here)"

And honestly, what am I supposed to do? Say, "Quit that! Quit pretending to squish my head!" I mean honestly, has there ever been lamer line uddered by a parent to a toddler? I think not...

What is a momma to do?

This one time.... at the church picnic

Have you ever just wanted to shove a little kid? I mean, not a knock-them-down-and-make-them- run-away-crying kind of shove. Just a nudge, maybe scrape 'em up a little, just give 'em, a good scare. No? You've never felt that way? SAne people don't have such thought about little kids??? Oh...

Well I have! And it was at a church picnic recently. My mom invited my daughter and I to her Fall Fest church picnic. It was great- there was a band, food, a petting zoo and those wonderful big inflatable slides and obstacle courses that every kid loves. So there we are, playing on those big slides and of course, hundreds of other kids are loving those things too. So here I am, trying to keep my 2-year old corralled, and keep her in line waiting her turn and wouldn't you know, (which is no small feat- these things are FUN!) this sweaty little kid butts right in front of us. Excuse me, but maybe you didn't notice the hulking tank of pregnant lady standing there in line, sweating and wincing with the back pain of standing still for more than 5 minutes? I mean, not only am I standing there sweating my stretched-marked bootay off, but my sweet little kid is just looking at me like, "Mom, do something! This surely can't be fair!"

So we finally make it to the front of the line, all the while watching that little runt go through the whole "go-down-the-slide-and-cut-in-line routine" 3 more times before we even get up there. Each time she went down that slide my blood pressure got progressively higher. Maybe I need a Valium or something, gettin' all angry at some little kid like that but honestly, this kid was old enough to know better. EVEN WORSE, her mom was standing by watching the whole thing happen and kept giving the other people in line that look like, "oh, you know, kids will be kids. Isn't she cute?!" I wanted to shake her and say, "No! No, she's not cute! She's not cute at all actually! Me and my swollen feet and achin' back and round round tummy and floral print kimono shirt-thing, now that's cute. Not your runny-nose, cuttin-in-line kid!"

But then I suppose it's not very Christian to be so intolerant, I was at a church picnic after all. How bad would it be if I have her a dirty look and stuck my tongue out at her when her mom wasn't looking? Hypothetically, of course...on a scale of one to ten?

Happy Birthday Darling!

Well, the sweet darling 2-year old is now a sweet darling 3-year old. My occasional posts entitled "Conversations with a 2-year old" will now have to reflect this growing, learning child that she is. I give you, Conversations with a 3-year old!! And the first one goes:

Daughter: "Mommy, I walked to the day care and we saw a lot of cars and Jordan was with me and it was so far."
Me: (Clearly confused because she has never walked to daycare) "You didn't walk there honey. What do you mean?"
Daughter: (clearly agitated now) "Mommy! I'm just bee-tending!! (her way of saying pretending) Mommy you are giving me a headache" (as she rolls her eyes and walks away)

The scariest part about her growing up - I mean, besides the very evident sass of course, is that I am one year closer to worrying about cars and teenage angst. I am one year closer to her going to prom and crying over her first broken heart. I am one year closer to her picking a college and moving away from me. I am one year closer to her not needing me and what I really want is for time to just slow down a little. I want a little more time to brush her curly wet hair after her bath and watch her get excited as she learns to read and get little wedgies in her ballet leotard but be completely oblivious of it. Don't grow up too fast my little dolly!

Labor Day!

Really, who knows what Labor Day means besides just a free day off of work? Please do enlighten me if you know because I honestly don't have to time to filter through Google's 110 million hits explaining it.

What I can tell you is what Labor Day means to me. Ironically, 3 years ago, as everyone else was enjoying a day off, eating hot dogs, throwing Frisbees and the like, I was literally going into LABOR! Like, gonna-have-a-baby, don't-even-think-it's-cute-to-make-a-joke-right-now-about-"labor", labor. Yes, I made my transition from hulking tank of 9 months of DQ Blizzards, prenatal vitamins and backaches, into a mother, all in the blink of an eye. (or 19 hours of backbreaking labor...but who's counting?)

So, as you are doing whatever it is you do over Labor Day, just be thankful yhou arem't in ACTUAL labor!