Clippin Nails

Yesterday, I clipped the girls fingernails and toe nails while they were busy watching tv. Not too much static from the troops, just the usual yelps and pleads. As I was tucking the girls into bed that evening, Kira was inconsolable crying. "I can't pick me nose now".

Yikes, wonder why we have been puking for three weeks?

Hello Summer?

As summer winds down, and the night sky darken early, I have been feeling bittersweet about this summer. I am so fortunate to have a career that enables me to have at least 10 weeks off with my family each and every summer. BUT, I feel like a spoiled child not wanting to return to work on August 31st. This summer has been my favorite summer of my life and I'm not exaggerating.

During the school year, I am tied to schedules, daycare, babysitters, lunch, and homework, so I don't feel the spontaneity that occurs naturally during the summer. This summer I have spent some great quality time with my family. We vacationed, swam, beached, hiked, and played like no ones business. I visited my mil, my parents, my sister and her family and friends from church without having to check the calendar. I saw my girlfriends and their families much more than I have in the last few years and it just felt good.

Don't get me wrong. This wasn't exactly the Kumbaya summer, I yelled at my children more than I care to admit, I wasn't present in the moment at many times, I fought with my husband, and complained about the darn New England humidity to anyone who listened. I drank too much ice coffee, not enough vegetables, and probably forgot to feed my kids as well. But my heart is full, the memories are many, and I feel ready to conquer another school year.

Dear Dance Centre Mother,

Dear Dance Centre Mother,

When you make moronic, judgemental, comments it is very difficult to keep my mouth closed. I'm assuming you do not have an internal voice filter that says, "Listen, don't say that out loud, you don't know these people, this comment may hurt or offend them." You may not understand the struggles some people go through daily and quite honestly hourly.

I don't worry about what number I was in line at Jack N Jill PreK registration at 3:00 a.m., I worry that my daughter will not receive social skills training on her IEP.

I don't worry that her leggings will not match her top, she doesn't wear anything but cotton blends, due to sensory isues.

I don't worry that she will not be a top cheerleader, dancer, fill in the blank, I worry that she may never have a close friend.

I don't worry that the popular kids will not play with her at school, I worry that they will tease and torment her.

I don't worry about her birthday cakes and gifts and who will be invited, I worry about the after effects of the sugar and dairy in her gi system that will effect her sleep and attention for weeks.

While I have these worries, I have these joys that you will never experience. I cried tears of happiness when I saw her approach her friend in the driveway and hold his hand. Joys can be as small as consistent eye contact or an unrequested hug. Our successes can never be measured by your standards, nor does that bother me.


What bothers me is your lack of empathy. When you comment that disabled children should not be included in your child's classroom, the rage fills my lungs and heart. I pray that you and your family never have to deal with a disability because sometimes karma can be a bitch and so can I.
Love,
Me

I'm Back....

Today we returned from camping with my parents and the girls. It was a wonderful trip!! Imagine that... overnight in a camper with my parents and two toddlers and I used wonderful in the sentence.

I lived in the moment and enjoyed the girls instead of focusing on schedules, to do lists, and organizing that will never get done.

We played board games, toasted marshmellows, played on the playground, listened and danced to bands. The girls were even given lessons with a hula hoop.

Did I mention it also rained for this trip? We overflowed my parent' s toilet bowl into their camper, woke the entire campground at 6:45. We may never be invited again but we had a blast.

Unexpected Weaning?

Tonight may be the last time I nurse a child. Tears are streaming down my face as I write this. If I could take back all the times I complained of nursing my children, the midnight feedings and the sleepless nights, I would for one more night. One more night of her & I, uninterrupted. But life is not written like that and the antibiotics I must take are more important to help me heal than to have some Hallmark moment.

Why People Don't Believe I'm in My Late 30s

I get this a lot. I'm not trying to brag, but many people don't believe I'm 39. I have finally figured out why - I'm very immature. When people would tell me this, I would gloat for a few hours, I'm so young, I don't have many wrinkles, I don't tan, yadda, yadda, yadda. But lately I've realized people are stating this after I do ridiculous things.

Take yesterday for instance. In the beginning of summer, I bought a plastic tricycle for Kira at a yard sale. It looked like it had been throught the wringer but still had a few good years in it. I paid my $5 and kicked myself in the arse when the pedal fell off on the way to the car. How cheap do I look asking about their refund policy. Anyways, I brought it home, the neighbors kids broke the other pedal off and Kira was never fond of the thing so it was just an eye sour that she used to store her rock collection in.

Why in God's earth do I decide to ride the piece of shit yesterday? On top of that poor decision, I decide to hold Eliza while I try to pedal my 105lb (white lie) on this bicycle. The strained plastic gave way, shooting shrapnel in all directions, while I fall on my ass in my driveway. Luckily, I fell straight backwards, so I was able to hold Eliza up so she didn't get hurt. But she could of. Stunts like that not my great young looks make people think I'm not 39.

Off topic but if you haven't watched VH1's Brett Michael's Rock of Love, you must drop everything and watch this train wreck. I LOVE THIS SHOW. The various strippers, dumb bimbos, wacked physcopaths that are contestants on this show are the craziest bitches you have ever seen. The show reminds me of what we used to look like in the 80s with posters of Matt Dillon, Poison, and Motley Crue on the walls of my bedroom. Elimination night is the best, the tarts are all dressed up for an hooker 80s prom. But what is worse than their clothing, is Brett thinking he will find true love this way. He is proof drugs, sex and rock and roll rot your brain. Brett must ditch the eyeliner.

Crazy Does Run in My Family

Today was my sister's annual pig roast. It is a wonderful affair, we get to see family members that we don't get to see often. The kids are usually splashing in the pool, running in the yard, the keg is flowing, etc, etc. The pig roast USED to be a lot of fun. Fun before I had children. I would go, drink beer, talk with family, friends, eat. It was a great day.

Present day, with a 3 year and 6 month old in tow, minus the hubby = sucky pig roast day. I should have known better. You don't leave the house when both children desparately need a nap (Kira was asking to take a nap yesterday). I couldn't put the baby down anywhere because she would have been trampled by the kids playing tag. Kira had two number 2 accidents where she was frozen in her spot, crying. The baby cried whenever anyone held her besides myself. After 4 hours of this type of torture, I decide to leave and my oldest felt it was time to finally socialize since she had been glued to my hip since we arrived. I often wonder, do I do a bad job parenting, since it seems like only my children were acting up, but then I remembered I had the youngest children there and I was solo. Too bad.

Then on the way out, my FATHER and my aunt yell down to me, what is the baby's name? My father, who sees the baby a few times a week, saw her a few hours after birth. My father, 63 years old, seems to have all his facilities wants to know what her name is? Are you kidding me? He must have seen the look of my face - old man you are pushing to be put in a home. Because he said he was confused because Aunt Marilyn kept calling her Alicia?

See why I"m nuts.