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.

The Dingaling

I love little kids. I love it when they say absurd things. Their curiosity and enthusiasm for the now mundane things is refreshing. I’m jealous that they get to have tantrums and say what they want. People frown upon that as you get older. Let’s face it watching a 40 year old woman screaming and kicking on the floor because her ice cream is too “melty” is apparently not ok…. sorry again Baskin Robbins….

I love and hate their uncensored honesty. And I especially love watching their personalities come to fruition. When my now 4 year old M was 1, my husband and I were scared that she had no personality. Which if you know her, you know how laughable that thought was. We would play peek a boo, act super silly and nothing. Nothing! And we are pretty funny people, well we like to think so anyway. It was kind of a blow to our self esteem. She just seemed unimpressed with us most of the time. Fast forward a few years and she is probably one of the funniest kids I know. And that says a lot. I like to think she was just studying us back then. I have to give her credit, this girl has the quickest wit and the best one liners.

Like most sleep deprived beings, I like to start my morning with a cup of hot coffee. However, I never get to enjoy it hot. I swear the moment the coffee is done brewing my children can sense that I am excited about something. Maybe it’s the rich aroma of happiness wafting through the air that awakens them, who knows. This particular morning my sweet M comes down and crawls into my lap and burrows her tiny self into my body. I give her a big hug and kiss and say “Good morning love!”

“Good morning mommy.”, she replies with a big yawn and her sweet stinky morning breath. We sit a rock back and forth for a moment before she pops up and grabs my face.

“Mommy?”, she asks.

“Yes M?”, I reply as I take a sip of cold coffee.

“Can I see your dingaling?”, she asks inquisitively.

I start choking. I set my cup down, trying to swallow back my coffee as best I can without it seeping out the corners of my mouth. I finally catch my breath. “What did you say?”, I ask mortified and praying that I misheard her.

“Mommy, I want to see your dingaling!”, she asks again with an air of annoyance.

Now something told me not to react how I wanted to react. Because I’m assuming your mind is where mine was right then. Before I could form a coherent sentence M gives up on me and turns to her father.

“Daddy, let me see your dingaling!” she demands.

My husband’s face fell and froze. I could see the range of thoughts going through his head like mine.

“M, why don’t you show us your dingaling?”, I ask calmly. Trying to suppress my own horror.

“Okay!”, she says gleefully. She then proceeds to open her mouth and points laughing really hard. “See?”, she squeals. “See, it dingalings!!”

Oh my good gracious, thank you Jesus. M had discovered her uvula. So naturally my husband and I obliged and showed her our dingalings as well. She was thrilled. We are still working with her to use the proper name. And don’t worry her school has been notified as well.

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!

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.

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.

The Dehydrated Philosopher

I initially wrote this story for my four-year-old a while back. After her sisters have arrived, I’ve found the content to remain just as true today. These past four years have been hard, sticky and amazing. As other people would say, I’m in the thick of it. Even though they give me anxiety attacks, I wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Personally, I’m grateful I had my kids in my 30’s. My 20’s were so fun living with my girlfriends, dating the wrong guys and traveling all over the place. However, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t envious of a younger mama’s energy level and stamina.

I had my children close together, almost two years between the oldest and middle and less than a year and a half between the latter. This can be extremely challenging at times, but again I wouldn’t have it any other way. I always find it odd when people react to the closeness. “Are they twins?” “No they are not actually!” Then comes the judgmental facial expressions saying you know what causes this right… In my head I kindly respond “Sorry Linda let me go back in time and ensure there’s more of a gap to please you.” Anyway, they play and fight so well together it warms my heart.

So for any of you in similar situations, feeling the stresses of motherhood pounding you into the ground. Here is to you mama! I see you! You are doing a great job! Hang in there! This isn’t easy. Whether you are young or of “advanced maternal age”, have 1 kid or 6, we are all in this together. It takes a village, patience, a little wine and a lot of prayer. We are in the thick of it but we will power through!

To My Dearest Toddler with Love,

My beautiful daughter, I have decided today was a day worth reliving with you. I am very excited about this. We are going to have the most exciting adventure. In 30 years, I’m going to come stay with you. Exciting, I know. I haven’t decided if I will bring your father with me on this adventure. I may take this one solo, however it would be a blast to do this with him.

I will promptly arrive for dinner via Uber or whatever a popular shuttling service for the elderly we have then. I will greet you with a great big hug and then ignore you completely and sit in your living room watching TV. You will tell me multiple times that dinner is ready. I will continue to ignore you until you have to come in and turn off the TV. Then I will be shocked and excited that dinner is ready. I will find my seat and not like it. I will make you switch places with me and take your fork and give you mine because I know yours has to be better. After a fun game of musical chairs, you will find that I am grossly disgusted at what you’ve cooked, refuse to eat it and beg you for cheese. Then I will proceed to give the cheese to your dog and ask for a cookie. What’s that, you don’t have any cookies? Whip some up NOW! This tantrum isn’t going anywhere any time fast so you may as well cave and make it happen.

When you are only half way through dinner, I will inform you that I have to use the potty. However, I need you to sit by me on the floor and read books while I try to poop. You will likely lose your appetite, but I don’t mind, dinner was gross anyway. No reason to worry, I will enjoy your company.

As you try to clean the kitchen I will demand that it’s time to take a bubble bath. As you kindly draw my bubble bath, I harass you from behind declaring you will not turn off the faucet. I require the water up to the top of the tub. I will splash around like a deranged sea otter for about a half hour until my water is ice cold. I will attempt to convince you that I’m fine and it’s warm whilst realizing that I have to use the potty yet again and leave your toilet seat soaking wet as well as your toilet paper roll. This will be an incredibly fun surprise for you in the middle of the night. The walls and floor will be covered in water as well. I will do everything in my power to miss all the towels that you have carefully placed all over the floor.

After a bath I would like to squirt out half a tube of toothpaste and argue with you that it’s not enough. Once I have my desired amount, I will turn on the faucet and rinse it off completely because your toothpaste is too spicy. I will then decide I don’t want to brush my teeth at all. Next I will proceed to run around naked through your house while you try to put pajamas on me. This will be quite a show for your neighbors. Fair warning, you may want to shut the curtains beforehand. Good luck! Once dressed and ready for bed I will be hungry again. Do you have any more of that cheese? Or cookies would be okay.

Once you’ve explained why we eat all our food at dinner and shouldn’t eat at bed time, I will firmly hand you a stack of 25 books I’ve carefully picked out for you to read me. Don’t you dare skip pages! I will know.

Tuck me in, say my prayers and turn off the light. Then I will call for you because I have turned into a dehydrated philosopher. I need water and as you arrive with my refreshment, I will ask you all sorts of questions to delay my actual bedtime and preventing you from accomplishing anything for the evening. Oh and by the way, I need a new pillow, this one is weird. The one you have on your bed will do just fine. And can you please take that picture off the wall, they are looking at me.

About 2 a.m. I will crawl in bed with you, but you should know I like to sleep sideways with my feet in your face. It makes me feel closer to you. At about 6 a.m. (if you are lucky) I will wake you up demanding more cheese and the use of your phone so I can watch the Wiggles and blast their charming music in your ear until you get up to get me that cheese we talked about earlier. After my breakfast, you will likely look like someone the government interrogated for 72 hours straight and will be ready for me to go back to my house. So I will happily sit in the back seat of your car singing at the top of my lungs and kicking your seat as hard as I can. As you try to keep your cool and ask me repeatedly to stop. I may scream and cry for no reason at all, from time to time. When we get to my house I will give you with the biggest smile, warmest hug and sweetest kiss and you will forget all the misery I put you through. Because that is what we do.

I know that I will miss these moments someday, but I find comfort knowing you will have to go through this as well. I’m reminded of this when I call my Mom, tell her the adventures of the day and on the other end of the phone all I hear is laughter. “That sounds about right!”

So dear daughter of mine, please remember I will always love you and be here for you. Love you kiddo!