Go For Crackers

Remember that time the world shut down and we were all stuck at home? Target started selling clothes that looked like we were all heading back in time, to start our own homesteads. The memories of that random time you and your buddies decided to toilet paper someone’s house brought you an actual anxiety attack at the thought of the wastefulness of that precious toilet paper? Facebook was a platform for all of your friends and acquaintances that had quickly acquired a medical degree. And suddenly everyone was a home chef and baker? Yah I’m trying to forget too.

One day while I was scrolling Facebook, trying to forget my bought of rage over my potty training toddler using a half a roll of toilet paper, clogging my toilet and putting our extremely limited supply in the critical category, I came across a nice neighbor that I had never met saying she had lots of sourdough starter to give away. This was a hard moment for me. One, ew. I don’t know who this is, where she’s been, if she had been exposed. Two, I’ve never made bread in my life. Three, I messaged her anyway.

It felt like a drug deal. Not that I have ever engaged in such depravity. So I guess I really don’t know what I’m talking about. I showed up to her home, my engine still running. I’m standing back from her door in a mask and hoodie and pajama pants because it’s cold and I haven’t been in public in ages. She gently sets the glass pickle jar down filled with the precious starter and some instructions taped to the side. She gives me a nod and shuts the door. Long story short I named my starter Amy Farrah Flour… wait for it… I know right?! And we’ve made lots of magic over the past couple years.

Which takes us to the present. One of the drawbacks of keeping this starter alive is you have to feed it like all the time. It’s like another person moved in. At least she doesn’t complain about my cooking and doesn’t require any extra laundry. And it feels so wasteful because I have to discard a bunch of it before I feed her. So I’ve been on the hunt for good recipes to use for the discard. Which leads us to today and this hysterical encounter with my daughter. This morning I found a great recipe to make crackers. My five year old daughter M is my little buddy in the kitchen. She loves to cook and especially likes to bake.

“Hey M, wanna make some crackers with me today?”, I ask.

“What?! That sounds like so much fun Mama! Are these going to be like graham crackers?”, she asks excitedly.

“Well no..”, I interject.

“We can make a house like we did at Christmas!”, she shouts excitedly.

“Baby, these are going to be sourdough crackers. So not sweet, more savory.”, I say with a grin.

She contemplates this for a moment. “Mommy we can still make a house out of the crackers! A cracker house! But we can call it a crack house for short!! This is gonna be the best crack house ever!”, she says with a crazy big smile.

Holding back fits of laughter, I agree with her. “It will be the best crack house in Texas babe!”

Noodle Nose

This morning over coffee I asked my husband who his favorite kid was. He looked at me all disgusted. “C’mon we all have one.” I coaxed. He paused.

Pointing my finger in the air, “Ha! I knew it!”, I smiled and took a long sip of my 2 hour old cold coffee.

“Well, I don’t have a favorite. They all have their moments.” he retorted.

“Way to play it safe.” I smiled and winked at his uncomfortable handsome face.

“Okay, who is your favorite?”, he asked, trying to be sly.

“Excuse me, I’m not a monster that’s just mean. Anyway they all cause me about the same amount of grief.” I said.

All joking aside, I agree with him. I don’t have a favorite, but they each have their own moments that are super fun. It’s an understatement when I say it’s been an adventure watching them grow. Seeing how each of their extremely different personalities are developing and witnessing which fighting style they prefer right before bed is humorous. Or as my husband and I lovingly refer to bedtime as the longest, most insane, worst 4 weeks of our day.

Speaking on how they each have their moments, this is all about our 4 year old M. She is straight up hilarious. Like seriously one of the funniest and happiest people I know. I want to be like her when I grow up. She is also very intelligent, but she does have more than a few “bless your heart” moments in a day. Hey I’m not being mean, I have those a lot too… bless my heart.

The other night at dinner, surprise surprise, it was spaghetti. Okay, it was really just egg noodles with butter and cheese, because my children are weird and only eat like three things. My husband and I were discussing the next school year and weighing the pros and cons of sending M to Kindergarten. Out of the blue M says in her sweet little voice, “The seven continents of the world are: North America, South America, Europe, Australia, Asia, Africa and Antarctica.” Rick and I just sat there with our mouths agape. I’m pretty sure a noodle slide out. Stunned, words finally found their way to my lips, “Yes. Yes, those are the seven continents M. Great job!”

She giggled and slurped up some more noodles. As she was basking in the admiration of good job cheers from her sisters, Rick and I looked at each other in shock.

“Wow, I mean I’ve always known she is really smart, but..” I said.

“I know, wow that is a good preschool. Maybe she really is ready for kindergarten. This is great!” my husband said.

“I know, it is a great preschool. I think that..” and before I could finish my thought or statement M interjects, “There’s a noodle in my nose!”

“Excuse me, a what?” I said.

“A noodle mommy!” M said excitedly.

I go over and look at her nose and I see literally nothing. Her nostril is as plain as this dinner. She keeps insisting there is a noodle up there. I keep insisting there isn’t. Trying to distract her from this noodle thing, I tell her to finish eating so we can go clean the bathroom, or I guess other people might call it bath time. My children splash around in the tub like deranged sea lions, so my bathroom floors are like, seriously immaculate.

Also I am comparing this noodle in the nose moment to this past Super Bowl Sunday. What happened on that day? Oh let me share. We made lots of yummy appetizers, because that’s what you do on that particular Sunday in the States. There is also a football game on tv I think. Anyway back on point, my husband gave M a little smokie on a toothpick. M ate the smokie, but magically didn’t have the toothpick. My husband then asks her where it is and she said she didn’t know. The next thing I know, I’m being dragged into the kitchen by my panicked 6 year old because M ate the toothpick and we have to go to the hospital now! M also provided theatrics by holding her throat sobbing, swaying and saying, “It hurts! It hurts!”, I still picture the Wicked Witch of the West melting and collapsing to the ground. Long story short, she didn’t eat the toothpick… it was on the table.

So now you can see why I am a little skeptical that she shoved a noodle up there.

All through dinner she keeps fiddling with her nose. I ignore it, because gross and I’m hungry. I give in and after dinner I take her to my room where I find one of those blue baby nose sucker things, that magically made it through my great baby items purge. I had her lay down and I used that sucker. I really did give it some effort and sure enough out came.. nothing. Nothing comes out! She is still upset, but I calm her down by promising her a bath with all 18 of her Barbie’s. As I’m drawing the water I hear M give the biggest sneeze. Like Texas big. Startled birds flew off the house and everything big. And sure enough this egg noodle about two inches long shoots out of her nose and lands on my super clean bathroom floor, all gooey and slimy. M with the biggest smile, squats down and holds it up to my mortified and shocked face. “See Mama! I told you there was a noodle in my nose!” she says proudly.

Well shit, there sure was.

After some debate, we have decided that we are still sending our little “Noodle Nose” to Kindergarten this fall. I’m just going to pack her lunch.

Oh and what is our bedtime fighting style you ask? Mostly Passive aggressive comments and empty threats of desperation. Then hugs and kisses of course.

Santa and Sanitizer

It’s that time of year again! I’ll be honest the day after Halloween I’m like, break out the tree! Now before you get all judgy, I haven’t put out all my Christmas stuff. My home is a beautiful mix of creepy elves, pumpkins, fall leaves and Christmas trees. It’s kinda like, pick a holiday already, but we love it. And I’m just going to say that I counted about 5 houses on our block that already have Christmas lights on at night.. (clears throat and gazes at husband longingly). I’m excited that I have 5 new neighbor friends. They don’t know it, but we are totally friends now.

My kids are delightfully confused about what’s happening here as well. We are still picking through the Halloween candy and talking about Thanksgiving food and making Christmas wish lists. Best. Time. Of. Year. Even though this year has been a total nightmare, I’ve decided that we are going to end it on an awesome note. Just praying that it doesn’t turn into a Griswold Family Christmas. Even though that would hilarious and extremely fitting for 2020.

With the bizarre circumstances of this year, we’ve had to adopt to a new way of life and thinking. Hence this awesome bedtime discussion with my daughter.

“Mom… I’ve been praying a lot for someone special.”, said O (my 6 year old).

Honestly I couldn’t be more excited. The thought of my baby actually praying on her own and thinking of doing that in the first place made my heart soar!

“Oh yeah?”, I said. “I’m so glad, there are a lot of people needing prayer right now. Whom did you pray for?”

Her eyes grew as wide as that adorable smile on her face. You could feel the excitement radiating off her. Kinda like when I enter the Coach Outlet store, with the goal of just smelling and touching all the purses I can’t afford.

“I’m praying for Santa!”, she exclaimed.

“Santa? Well that’s nice is supposed. Praying about anything in particular?”, I asked.

“Well, if you think about it, he like goes into everyone’s houses all over the world. Like EVERYONES…. That’s just really gross mom.”, she stated matter of factly.

I have to admit that is really gross if you think about it. Even if we weren’t in the midst of a global pandemic.

“Yeah I guess that is true, but I’m sure he’ll wear a mask and he already wears gloves so that’s a plus.” I said.

She sat for a moment and considered what I had said.

“Mom, what if we left out a bottle of hand sanitizer by the fireplace instead? And maybe a note that says Please wash your hands before touching anything! You can even use our sink!”, she demanded. Suppressing back a giggle, I agreed with her. “Or what if we just ask him to please leave the presents on the back porch? … But what if there is a storm…. I don’t know.” she laid down, wheels turning in her head.

“I think whatever he does, it will be safe love. Don’t worry about it.” I reassured her.

We finished prayers and she got all tucked in with all 33 of her favorite stuffed animals. After I shut the door I had to laugh, that was pretty funny. However, at the same time made my heart a little sad she even has to think like that. But I have to admit I’m super excited about the Christmas season approaching! We may have even put our Christmas tree already. My kids may have already been decorating it with all their stuffed animals. My husband and I may have already said about 241 times, to stop climbing in the damn tree. But it’s all good. Goodnight everyone!

Shady Deliveries, A Grocery Tale

I’ve often wondered what I would look like with silver hair. Surprise! I get to see it in full effect now. See, trying to find the positives guys. I think I could totally pull it off. Day 3,216 of quarantine. I’m still out of coffee creamer. I’m starting to feel as bitter as this coffee. We don’t speak ill of the precious! I mean coffee. Anyone else developing a Gollum alter ego? The kids are full on Lord of the Flies now. I’m tired of intervening and am about ready to take bets with my husband, as to which child is going to emerge the victor.

Mommy needs a little, I mean a lot, of quiet time. To, you know, do super exciting things like cleaning, dishes, laundry, crying and online grocery shopping. But alas, I’m summoned most every night by my 5 year old in tears, because I won’t open a magical portal for her to go through, so she can go to Ladybug and Cat Noirs’ world (It’s an anime show on Netflix, no worries I could sense your confusion). I’m super honored that she thinks I have this skill set. I do consider myself a Gryffindor, so I am pretty magical. And I may from time to time turn off and on the living room and kitchen lights using a spell (or an app on my smartphone). So I can see where she gets this idea. I told her to write herself in a story with Ladybug and Cat Person and draw the pictures. She looked at me like I was crazy. Which with this quarantine, I’m pretty certain I’m becoming.

I love the internet. Like, really love it. Want a new outfit and refinance your house? Done! Want that original ET poster and some bigfoot footage? Done! And the Meme’s don’t forget about the Meme’s! I also love the tips people are giving out about how to stay protected nowadays. A friend sent me a picture of this tiny woman using her bra cup as a face mask. It was pretty and fit perfectly around her mouth and nose. I went to my drawer and pulled out one of my old bras and put my face in the cup. Like my entire face fit in my bra cup. I would be the safest person out there. Nothing would get in my mouth, nose or eyes. And as far as social distancing goes, people would just naturally get out of my way, because I’d look pretty creepy and I’m probably about to run into them. So there’s that.

My favorite thing is online grocery shopping. However, I’ve been doing this for years. I am so much better at sticking to my grocery list and budget if I do it this way. Plus there is that suspense after you check the box to allow substitutions. What will you get? I don’t know, you’ll just have to wait and see! Will they substitute a 16 ounces can of refried beans with a 3 pound can? Ohhh boy (rubs hands together with a maniacal grin)!

Now before I tell you this next part I need to clarify a few things. First of all I can’t thank all of the brave first responders enough. All the people fighting this awful virus on the front lines. And lets not forget the people that enable us to stay home safely. The personal shoppers that go out to these crazy stores to get us our food and supplies. I’m grateful. I’m also probably one of the more patient and kind people you will meet. (Except if you are driving like super slow in front of me.) But Kroger, you’re on my list now and that’s not a good place to be. That being said here is my story.

On Wednesday I started an online grocery order to be delivered, from Kroger. I put my address in, chose delivery and then filled and filled my cart in hopes to get at least half of what I picked. Because let’s be realistic here, you’re not going to get everything you ask for and that’s okay. When I was finished I hit submit only to find that they didn’t deliver to my house… Sooo why give me the option. Okay whatever, I called my friend up and asked if I could have them delivered to her house instead. She lives in town, so I knew that’d be a safe bet. See I’m being flexible guys. She said sure thing, so I selected to have them delivered to her house between 3-4 pm on Friday.

So Friday comes and we drive the half hour to her house, because now it’s a family outing. We haven’t been out of the house in weeks, and we wait for an hour in her driveway to intercept the groceries. Well they didn’t show. And they didn’t show until 11:15pm that night. Who the hell is up that late? Okay probably lot’s of people. Don’t worry I sent my family home long before this. But come on Kroger, that’s not cool. As I’m sitting in my black car in my friends driveway, I’m starting to feel really uncomfortable. She lives in a culdesac, that’s not the best lit. Or maybe it is, but there are like a million trees so it’s super dark. And I look pretty scary myself. I have a bandanna around my mouth, don’t worry I didn’t wear my bra over my face. I have on gloves. My makeup is smeared under my eyes from crying, because that’s what I do when I’m mad. Yes I wore makeup, I don’t get out much guys. And my husband’s cowboy hat is sitting in the seat next to me. Begging for me to put it on. I literally looked like I was about to rob a stagecoach. Call me Pearl Heart.

The delivery driver pulled up and sat there for a moment. Maybe she could see me and was scared. Maybe she was debating on making a run for it, I don’t know. I stepped out and opened my trunk giving a friendly wave. She cautiously steps out as well. Don’t worry lady I’m not going to shove you into the back of my car. Social distancing would frown on that.

“Hi!” I say as friendly as I can muster. I take off my mask because I feel ridiculous and stay a safe distance back. “Please don’t be alarmed, that is my friends house, but this is my order. Ya’ll wouldn’t deliver to my house.” She looks at me confused. I guess I didn’t think about this part because it really looks like I am trying to steal someone’s grocery order. I see that now. I guess these are desperate times. I can also see some neighbors peeking out, I guess some people are really awake at this hour.

My answer seemed to appease her and she started to load up my car. Or she just really didn’t care and wanted to get home because it’s crazy late and was thankful I wasn’t a wanna be gunslinger from the 1800’s trying to rob her. “Stick em up and gimmie all the groceries!” Yeah, I can’t pull that off. And don’t worry I didn’t say that out loud. I did say it in my head though.

I finally get home around midnight with my groceries. I haven’t been up this late on purpose in years. The morning is going to be here too soon, hopefully my kids will let me sleep in (7 a.m. woot!). I know that’s not going to happen. However, I did get some kind of coffee creamer, and did I mention a 3 pound can of refried beans?

I’m Fine.. Everything is Fine!

Day 3,210 of quarantine. How is everyone doing? I’m going to be honest. I’m struggling a bit. I’m out of my favorite coffee creamer and my sarcasm is reaching a whole new level. However, my play dough skills have dramatically improved as well as my Southern Style Old Fashioneds. Trying to find a new normal has been nothing short of a challenge. Back in the beginning of March when I found out school was going to be out an additional two weeks, I panicked a bit. But I put my teacher hat on and made a daily schedule. I ordered all the necessary supplies, I was ready to rock. I was like, I’m going to home school the crap out of these kids! They are going to go back to school ahead of the curve and I’m going to potty train the youngest and they are going to be like wow Traci, how’d ya do it? And I would act all humble and say something like, “Ya know, just doing what I can during these uncertain times.”

I made a makeshift classroom in my living room. I had desks, seats for circle time. A chalk board with all my circle time stuff. Lesson plans from the basic Math/Reading/Writing to How to be a Lady/ Etiquette class. We even FacedTimed with a good friend of mine, to learn sign language and learned a bible verse! Look at me molding the minds of little geniuses! After the two weeks were up and my hair was a lot grayer, they extended the break another two weeks, and then another two weeks…. Shit got real, real quick. The baby is still not potty trained. I gave up on my awesome daily schedule and just do the basics. I’ve painted all my kids bedrooms, two bathrooms and have gotten rid of 8 boxes of toys. Please please don’t send us any more puzzles or stuffed animals. Thank you.

My husband is working from home now, which we are extremely grateful that he is able to do so. Even though he now has three very demanding and inconsiderate new co-workers, he seems to be handling the transition well. Having adult interaction during my day is awesome! Except for the part where he has to actually focus and do his job. I’m trying to keep a steady daily routine and some sense of normalcy for the kids as well. I have about 40 minutes to myself during the day. That’s the part where I make the kids go upstairs and play while I get a workout in. I crave this part of the day. Some days I’m really into it, other days I’m just yelling go back upstairs as I’m laying on my yoga mat in front of the fan pretending I’m at the ocean. If this ever happens again, God forbid, I’m thinking ahead about my quarantine location.

This day in particular as I’m really trying to work out, my oldest comes running down the stairs.

“Mom! MOM! It’s an emergency!”, screams O.

When my kids play they seem to yell help a lot, so our word for a real problem is emergency. I drop my weights and sprint up the stairs. When I get to the top I hear it. This thud thud thud… and muffled “MOMMY HELP ME!”.

“What is going on?!”, I demanded. I follow the muffled scream into O’s room. There on a heap of princess dresses and play clothes is my youngest C. With a look of pure delight on her face. O points to the big red trunk where we keep the playclothes. “She’s in there.” O says trying to force back a sinister smile.

“Why is your sister locked in the trunk?!” I shrieked. Pretty sure my dog downstairs heard me and hid and am quite certain my husbands’ conference call could hear the whole debacle as well.

“I don’t know mom, maybe she locked herself in there?”, O said cooley as if stating an obvious reason. Que more thud thud thud. “Let me out!” yelled M from the depths of the trunk.

“Where is the key?!” I said.

“That’s the emergency.” said O. “I don’t know…”

Seriously?! Her room looked like a prom from the 80’s had blown up. Or the rapture had occurred and only took the Disney Princesses. Or the cast of Downton Abbey had an after party. You get the visual.

“Well look!” I yelled. It’s a good thing that I am a child of the 80’s and watched my fair share of Double Dare. I always dreamed that I would get chosen for that show. Hurtling through that crazy messy house trying to find all those red flags, was a dream! Who knew I’d be living that someday. Okay I guess my house isn’t normally that messy, but today my daughter’s room was and my red flags were that key to the trunk! The stakes were a lot higher too. I didn’t have the fear of getting doused with green slime, I had the fear of calling the fire department, during a pandemic and major social distancing, to get my kid freed from a trunk! I can just see the headlines now. “Irresponsible Mom With Out Of Control Children, Locks Toddler In Trunk And Breaks Social Distancing Rules.”

“Ah Hah!” I found the key under a pile of tea party hats! I quickly held it up triumphantly and inserted it into the lock. The trunk popped open and M sat up rubbing her tear stained eyes. “Mommy! I found you!” said M with a sigh. She leapt out of the trunk, gave me a quick kiss and picked up her Owlette hat. She turned to her sisters, “Lets Go!” and off they went. Galavanting off to the next bedroom to blissfully destroy. Acting like the best of friends they are and having no memory of the last 10 minutes of horror.

As I’m standing there ankle deep in pink frill, with the prized key clutched in my hand, I’m reminded of a very important fact. I have perfected the Southern Style Old Fashioned. I’m fine… Everything is FINE!

The Log Ride

Tonight I made one of my favorite dishes growing up, saucy porkchops. Which also happens to be my oldest daughters favorite now too. However, trying to get everyone to sit down and eat the same meal together isn’t realistic. Because why would all of my children want to agree on something to eat? That is crazy talk! I’d have better luck finding my favorite movie in the $5 bin at Walmart.

My youngest is the pickiest eater I have ever met. So we let her eat before us and then sent her upstairs to watch her favorite movie, while we all enjoyed a peaceful dinner with less screaming. Notice I said less. After a nice, quite dinner I volunteered to do the dishes so my husband could play games with the girls. Things were a little too quite upstairs though, so we asked O to run up to check on C before we started the games. Little did I know we were all about to play a super fun game, that was uncomfortably close to Jumanji.

O comes sprinting down the steps faster than a shoplifter with a giant pile of jeans. Her expression is a mix of horror and glee, but mostly horror. I mean come on we all have smiled a bit knowing our sibling was about to get it. And being the one to deliver the news to mom and dad is pretty great.

“Mommy!” she said in a panic. “Mommy, it’s everywhere! The water is on, mommy hurry, help!”.

I dropped my dinner plate and sprinted up the stairs. (I can do that now, thanks Jazzercise) With a scene that looked comparable to G.I. Jane (except I’m not nearly as cool as Demi and it didn’t look anything like G.I Jane), I was jumping over toys and a side stepping around books, kicking Barbies out of the way, until I reached the bathroom doorway and found myself looking at an unbelievable scene.

There she was. Happily sitting in the sink with the spouts on full blast. Kind of looked like the second floor girls lavatory at Hogwarts, except Moaning Myrtle wasn’t doing the flooding this time. It was my soon to be 2 year old.

“C!!” I yelped. I stepped into the bathroom, water completely covering the tops of my feet as I turned off the faucets. I picked up my sopping wet toddler out of the flooded sink and sat her down into our new “baby pool”, that was about a half hour ago, just my bathroom floor. She smiled and said “You Ok?”

“NO! No I’m not okay!” I yelled. “R!!! Help me, get up here.. like now!”

As I’m standing in my brand new aquatics center, regretting my nice quite dinner, I smell it. Ugh it’s poop again. Why is it always poop? I look down at the sink and there are nice little nuggets floating cheerfully in the water. Talk about a log ride. They were cascading down the sides of my sink onto the floor as well. I look at C and she smiles. It’s a damn good thing you are 1 and you are cute. My poor husband gets to the bathroom door and looks exasperated and horrified. I’m so angry, I can’t even process what’s happening. 1. She could’ve gotten seriously hurt and 2. My brand new @#$%^&* house!!

I hand him over the baby as he hands me a giant pile of towels. About 14 Frozen and Paw Patrol beach towels later I had successfully mopped up all the water and poop from the floor, sink and in the cabinets. Now to disinfect everything and start another huge ass pile of laundry. I guess I had been meaning to clean my floor boards anyway, so I can check that off my list now.

As I’m finishing up scrubbing the last piece of floor I feel this little hand on my shoulder? It was C. Smiling at me with that ridiculously cute smile, holding a plate with a fake cup cake on it. “You mommy!” I take the cake and the hug that came with it. After she leaves the bathroom I hear yet again another shriek and a crash coming from down stairs. So naturally I closed the door and ignored them.

R comes up later, I couldn’t even ask him what the last scream was about because he looked like he was about to scream as well. C’s little Niagara Falls fiasco had leaked into the ceiling of the garage, directly on the garage door opener, to the top of my car and down and out into the driveway.

Long story short we tucked the girls into bed super early and had a stiff drink or two. I can’t remember. I may have also called my mother and told her I quit. She is coming down now in a month. Halleluiah!

This morning as I was leaving the house trying not to remember the happenings of the previous night, my garage door opener wouldn’t work. SOB!!!! It all came flooding back. (See what I did there). Luckily the app on my phone worked to shut the door. Now if only there was an app to control my kids.

Hairy Situations with a Side of Streaking

I don’t know if this is normal for everyone else, but I have to completely prepare myself the night before for outings the next day. Going out into public with my three (O is 5, M is 3 and C is 20 months) is insane. I often feel like I’m preparing for battle. Coffee maker is ready. I have the clothes laid out, ready to go. The shoes are by the door. The diaper bag is fully stocked with the essentials and snacks of course, to help the hangry melt downs. Water bottles are ready to be filled and I have in mind what breakfast is going to be. I have them covered, but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve left myself uncovered. Bra, what bra?? Damn it! But come on this is motherhood. No matter how prepared we try to be things are always chaotic. Or is that just me?

I called my mother today on my way home from the girl’s haircuts and had the discussion of, is this normal or just my circus? When we get to the salon I find a parking space right by the front door! Score, one it is a 100 degrees out and two I don’t have to dodge other cars with the kids. I get the kids inside and run into my first obstacle, the giant glass bowl of mints. O runs right up and dives her hand in.

“One! Just one!” I yelp as I’m hanging onto M by the armpit, as she decides to go limp and dump out her Daniel Tiger backpack full of ABC blocks in the elegant entryway. On the other side I have my hand tight around C’s leash. Okay, time out, don’t get high and mighty with me. C is wearing a super cute bright pink butterfly back pack, that she loves, and it just so happens to have a little leash attached on the back of it. She gets the feeling of freedom running around and I get the feeling of reassurance she won’t get hit by a car. Win win.

O gives me a furrowed brow and grabs a couple mints. “One is for M!” she justified. A nice older gentleman sees my peril and helps M put her blocks back in her bag. I sincerely thank him and make my way back outside to the court yard to my stylist suite. The one thing I have going for me, is that it’s a small courtyard with no other exits. It has a beautiful water fountain in the middle and lots of pretty plants. The other suites have big windows looking out into the yard. When we get there, the girls excitedly move into her suite. Shoes are taken off, The Grinch is starting on the IPad and snacks are being distributed. O quickly unwraps her mint and shoves it in her mouth and climbs up into the chair. Everyone is engaged and being good. So I stupidly take a relaxed breath. You know what that means.

As I’m watching O get three inches of her hair cut off, I hear a big gush of water followed by a startled tiny scream. My stylist and I both jumped and turned around to see M standing at the shampoo bowl on the chair, being pummeled with water by the hose. The stylist quickly turned off the water and I assessed the damage. M looked like she just took a causal stroll through a car wash. So I stripped her down to her pull-up and cowgirl boots, and mopped up the mess. In the meantime as I’m wiping up the floor, I notice C isn’t watching The Grinch. In fact she isn’t in the suite at all. Shit! My heart starts to race once again and before I can completely panic I see the end of the pink leash stuck in the door. I run over to the door and look out. She is leaning forward like she is flying, being supported by the entrapped leash. I grab the end and open the door. She is quite pleased with herself for escaping, well kind of, during the chaos. Sometimes I wonder if these two plan these moments.

I pick up C and set her back by the movie. Then I turn around to see a naked toddler in a pull-up and cowgirl boots run by, giggling uncontrollably. Wait, NO!!! That’s my naked cowgirl giggling toddler! I run out into the courtyard to get her and of course she thinks this is the best game ever. As I’m chasing her I can see people coming to the windows laughing really hard at this spectacle. I finally catch her and M says “Yay mommy you did it! I’m so proud of you!” Thanks M. We finally make it through the haircuts. Did I mention my stylist is a saint for putting up with us? As I’m trying to pay, C is rearranging all the product on the shelves. M is trying to climb the chair to get a cup of coffee and O is just staring in the mirror, posing with her fabulous new hair style.

We make it all the way to the entrance with no more incidents and I think we are in the home stretch, I mean I can see the car out front, when M takes off for the stairs. Did I forget to mention that M is still only wearing a pull-up and cowgirl boots during all of this? O see’s the giant glass bowl of mints and heads over to grab some more. I start after M, as I’m yelling “No more mints O!” However I forget that I have a small little person attached to me by a leash and starting dragging her along with me. The receptionist jumps up to help me out and grabs M, as I’m trying to help up poor little confused C.

“Please let me help you out to your car. I see you have your hands full.” the receptionist said kindly.

“Thank you so much and you have no idea.” I replied.

Ice Cream and Deadbolts

Ya’ll this afternoon was hot. Like you better inhale that Bomb Pop now before your face looks like a scary ass clown kind of hot. Luckily O was at camp this afternoon, so I just had M and C to cart around. It’s amazing how being one kid down feels like a mini vaca! Target was kind of a breeze. I could’ve spent an entire day and salary just looking around, but I could tell I was on a very limited time frame with the girls and we still had to go pick up the dog at the groomers. I love it when Georgia, our dog, gets groomed. One she smells way better and two she looks like a very cute shaved Ewok. When we got home from all our errands, the girls were begging to go outside and play in their ridiculously awesome playhouse. Thanks again mom and dad. By this time of day it’s in the shade so I said go ahead. I needed to get some things ready for dinner anyway and it would be nice to do so without toddlers ridding on my legs like a couple of koalas. Although my calf muscle are looking tight lately.

After a few minutes I realized that things were too quite. You know what I mean? Kind of like when all the birds stop chirping when a big storm is near. So naturally I dropped everything and sprinted outside to see what they were doing. Well M decided that the house needed a little face lift or she thought she was the next Van Goh. She colored the entire side of our brown house, including the door, with bright blue chalk. I have to admit for the time she had unsupervised she covered a lot of ground.

“Why did you color the house?” I asked.

“What?” she looked at me with giant innocent eyes and a bright blue hand.

“Chalk stays on the ground only!” I said raising my voice and trying to keep my cool.

I told her to go into the house, which she was not pleased about at all. She started to melt down and asked for her binky, for like the billionth time and of course I said no, yet again. Side note, this is day 2 of no binky. (Prayers and gin are welcomed.) She glared at me with those mischievous beautiful brown eyes and slammed the door. I drug the water hose out and sprayed the blue Smurf massacre off the house. C found all this quite amusing and cheered for me. When I was done I picked her up and smelled a very ripe diaper. Great it’s all over my arm. I go to walk into the house and run into the door, smack! It’s locked….

I knock on the door and loudly call for M, “Unlock the door please!”

So our back door is in a small hallway between our bedroom and the living room. I can see most of each room. She comes strolling casually around the corner of the living room, smiles almost as if she’s surprised to see me and shakes her head no.

“Open. The. Door. Now.” I repeat sternly.

She considers my request and tries to unlock it. After a few failed attempts she successfully unlocks the bottom lock, but to my surprise she had somehow managed to lock the dead bolt above as well. Well Crap. I finally gave up trying to point out and describe the dead bolt to her. Well mostly because she got tired and walked away from me.

So I ran over to the next door neighbors house hoping they still had a key to our house. Not home. Ran across the street to our other neighbors’ house. Not home. Shit. No literally, C had gone again. I was reaching desperation. It was 102 degrees out, I’m barefoot and this diaper can’t hold much more. Third times a charm right? Luckily it was. Our other neighbor was thankfully home and let us in to use her phone. Thank goodness I knew my husband’s phone number. Ah voicemail. Well I expected that I guess. I don’t pick up when I don’t know the number either. Now I was just praying that he listens to the voicemail and doesn’t decided to go run errands after he picks up O.

I thanked my neighbor and ran back over to the house. Out of all my kids I knew M would be the least panicked about being alone. And I was totally right.

I got back into the backyard with C and went up to the door. I looked in and didn’t see or hear M anywhere. So I knocked… and knocked again. Then I see her. She is sitting on the floor with a fist full of ice cream, in front of the door. A half-gallon bucket of mint chocolate chip ice cream is sitting securely between her legs.

“M!” I yelled. “Put that away now!” I like how I thought I had any control in this situation what so ever. I’m cute like that.

“No.” she retorted calmly. Then she got up calmly with the ice cream and walked into my bedroom. Then back into my bathroom, turns and faces me with a chocolaty smile and oh so sticky hands and slams the French doors to the bathroom shut.

I stand there for a moment full of rage and then I start laughing. Well at least I know she is eating the ice cream on the tile now. I embrace the moment. I know M is safe, I mean there is at least half of that container left. That will take her awhile. I strip down C to nothing and wash her off with the hose. She thinks this is all hilarious and wonderful. My kind neighbor stops by with a cold bottle of water and encouragement.

“This is a hard time in motherhood! You’re fine!” she said kindly.

Damn. She is right! So I sit myself down, crack open a nice cold water (in my head it was beer) and sat there spraying my naked baby with a hose until my husband came home.

Shenanigans & Hoarding

How many of you have jumped on board with the whole de-hoarding of your home train? Right here! Yup that’s me, now throw your hands in the air, wave em’ like you jus’ don’t care. C’mon, I know you were singing along with me in your best Run D.M.C. impersonation. Now put your hands back down before you knock something over. I just vacuumed for the 2^nd time today. Marie Kondo has an excellent system of de-cluttering. I just need to figure out how to keep little “helpful” hands, from moving things out of my piles. I have so many piles in my home right now ya’ll. There is the trash pile, give away to a friend pile, donate pile and I’m not sure what to do with this globe I like that sports countries that don’t even exist anymore pile. Hello U.S.S.R.! This chaos all started when I discovered that I owned 5 9×13 pans. Does that make me an excellent Methodist or what? I’m ready for that pot luck in a moment’s notice. But I had to ask myself, does having 5 9×13 pans bring me joy? No, it’s stressed me the hell out.

So basically my home has looked like a state of emergency, as I go through every cabinet, closet, etc.., for a couple weeks now. It reached it maximum messy point this past Friday night. After getting home from an awesome dinner with friends and surviving a nighty night battle, worthy of an Oscar nomination from our children, we were just done. My house can be messy, but my kitchen is always immaculate. I CANNOT stand a dirty kitchen. Well Friday night I sure did. I had a dishwasher waiting to be unloaded. Dirty dishes galore on my island. Shoes, socks, jackets, toys, diaper bags, purse….. Screw it, we made a cocktail and watched Jurassic World. The next morning I awake to my four year old gasping at my side with delight. “Mommy! You won’t believe this!” squealed O. Feeling completely disoriented I reach for my glasses. “What’s going on?” I ask in a yawn. “Someone was in our house!” O shrieked. “WHAT?” I ask in a more alert state. “Come let me show you!” O said as she handed me my robe and pulled me by the hand.

I speed walk out into the living room ready to drop kick the asshole who broke in, ya know, because I’m getting so strong from Jazzercise and all. There were toys, pillows, blankets galore. Okay looks the same. Kitchen … disaster, okay. Dining room table is under there somewhere, okay. My piles looked undisturbed, okay. Yup looks how I left it. Front, back and garage door all locked. “This place is a pit mom!” yelled Olive as she spun in circle. “Gee thanks.” I say sarcastically and defensively at the same time. You try to keep a house clean with three Gremlins hopped up on popsicles, I think to myself. “I know who did this!” O exclaimed. “You?” I ask. “No silly, it was the leprechaun! He must have come early! He is very mischievous and wrecked our house. I can’t believe it! Can we call my teachers at school and tell them?” asked O with wide sparkling brown eyes.

I love how O thinks that her teachers are always at school. Like they live there and just wait for her to show back up. Come to think of it, before spring break, her teachers had a naughty leprechaun come into their class room and wreak havoc making a huge mess while they were away at recess. Of course this made sense to her. “Yeah, you’re right. I bet it was that naughty leprechaun!” I said. “I guess we better clean this up.” “Na, I’m going to go look for him. Good luck with that mom!” she said as she skipped away. I didn’t have the energy to argue with her at that moment. Oh don’t you worry I made her help later. That is after she found lose change on the floor and was certain the leprechaun left her treasure. And after, she had to call my in-laws and parents and tell them how she is living in filth and squalor that was certainly created by this tiny green man. Insert face palm. I swear your grandchildren are safe! Well the tiny green trouble maker has left us alone, for now anyways. I got the first floor of my home done. Now onto the second. I’m gonna need more coffee.. or Guinness.

Lent Me Ask You a Question

I don’t know about you, but I feel like Ash Wednesday always creeps up on us. I mean, I seriously just watched my neighbors take down their Christmas tree a couple days ago. Now in their defense I think they may be snow birds to somewhere like, I don’t know.. Florida. I guess our harsh Texas winters can be too much.. (Insert Scarlett O’Hara eyebrow raise). No judgement here. I love Christmas just as much as the next person, but it is March. They were past that awkward point of you still haven’t taken it down? To wow, aren’t you a little early?

Wednesday morning as I was making my bed with O “helping” me, my mom FaceTimed. O answered the phone excitedly, “Hi Nana!”

“Good morning O!” Nana said.

“Nana, what happened to your head? Are you alright?” asked O concerned.

“Oh yes honey, I’m fine I just went to church early this morning. I’m sure you’ll go tonight.” said Nana.

O looked at me with big eyes. Now mind you, she has an overactive imagination like her mama. I could just see all the questions formulating in her little mind getting ready to cascade out of her mouth. Sometimes I wish I was a day drinker. Do you know the average toddler asks 288 questions a day? That means I probably tell about 200 lies a day.

I took the phone from O so my poor mother wouldn’t pass out from motion sickness trying to talk to my daughter. Most of the time when you try and FaceTime my children, it looks like you are watching the Blair Witch Project. You get great shots of their noses, sometimes with a lovely booger dangling around. You will see my ceiling or their feet as they run off with you. You may even hear a toilet flush as they try to go potty and talk to you, talk about multitasking! And if you are super lucky they will spin around in a circle with you so you can feel like you are at an amusement park for free!

I love my morning check in’s with my mom. I’m almost 40 and I think I talk to her about 9 times a day. After we hung up, O turned to me and began the interrogation.

“Her head is dirty mom! Why isn’t she washing her face? Why did church do that to her? Does she know?” asked O sternly.

“Yes love she knows, I’m not just letting Nana walk around with dirt on her face.” I said. “On Ash Wednesday Christians put ashes on our heads to help us remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return.” By the horrified look on her face I realized that was way too deep. Before we could start a theological debate I continued. “Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent, which is when we practice self-restraint and abstention until Easter.”

She just stared at me with confused eyes. “Okay sister, basically you pick out something you want to give up. Food, a bad habit, or you can do something kind. Basically you’re doing something intentional for Jesus. What would you like to do?”

She sat thoughtful for a moment and said “How about cookies and candy?!”

Cookies and candy, huh? Well at this moment I can come clean and explain to her what she is doing or I could do to her what my father did to me at her age, which I still hold a grudge dad. I could let her think that we are having a party a church. I loved parties and one for Jesus had to be super special, so naturally I suggested cookies, cupcakes, candy, juice and pop! When we got home that evening I asked for a cookie, but instead I had a harsh “come to Jesus” moment with my dad. So do I come clean or not? To avoid long periods of screaming and crying later, because that’s frowned upon for a 37 year old, I tell her the truth.

“That’s fine, but you do realize that you are giving these things up? Meaning, no more cookies and candy until Easter.” I said.

She sat thoughtfully for a moment and had a look of regret. This look totally reminded me of the time we had lunch with my mother at Applebee’s. O loves vegetables and one particular day she decided that she wanted a side of broccoli with her meal. I had a proud mama moment, so I let her go ahead and order it. When the food came out, O looked from her plate to my mothers. My mother had a nice side of fries that caused O great remorse. O hung her head and whispered, “What have I done??!” I think I spit out my Diet Coke.

“What? Wait!! Okay.. then you can take all the fruit. I don’t want it.” Said O.

“Such a sacrifice O.” I said sarcastically

O’s smile widened and she ran out of the room. You remember that moment when your mom told you she hoped you’d have one just like you someday? Well that day is here for me, times three. I guess I can stop buying fruit and throwing it away now.