Kudos to all the mothers out there who bake with their children, because I can’t STAND it. And this is why:

Since motherhood is a both an exercise in personal growth as well as a catalyst for insanity, I forced myself to bake cookies with ONE even though I knew it would stress me out. The end result? We had fun. I recovered after 20 minutes of being left alone to clean.

I’ve been humbled.

As I type this, a very nice plumber is clambering around in the storage room on our back porch. I just heard a crash, and possibly an expletive.

This morning, we saw water pooling on our back porch. A lot of it. And now the plumber is here, except that neither I nor Husband thought about the fact that he might need to gain access to that room. It’s mortifying. He assured me he has seen worse. I believe him. But still.

I just snapped this picture while he was gone to get some tools. It doesn’t do the situation justice. There simply isn’t anywhere to put your feet. The other side has been cleared of junk so he can access the pipe, which is in the wall, and is split in two. He said “it’s going to be a pickle” to repair. And so, I wished him good luck.

“I’ll need it.” That’s what he said. He just walked outside with a saw. And we have no water. So … good luck to me as well.

Happy Saturday to you.

I have a photo scanner in my house. It’s awesome. And I’m pretty sure it’s going to change my life.

Here is the first picture ever taken of me and Husband. It was Summer, 2003, and I was 23 years old. Look at us, so young and free. It was like 3:00 a.m. on a Wednesday and we were in New Orleans, just wandering around.

I love everything about this picture, but my favorite thing? Those 3-D glasses. OH YEAH.

Today I made the glorious realization that not only am I able to squeeze into my regular jeans, but they are no longer slutty-slut tight. This means …

I CAN WEAR THEM IN PUBLIC!

Because (hopefully?) we all know there is definitely a difference between “able to squeeze into” and “able to wear in public.” Half of my closet is filled with clothes I could probably pour myself into, if I really tried hard enough. However, wearing them out of the house would result in one of the following: passing out from not being able to take a full breath, or arrest.

I was so pumped that I asked my three-year-old to take a picture of me in them …

I still have about 20-30 more pounds to lose before I am at a comfortable weight, but I am pretty damn proud of myself for the progress I’ve made in only 5 months, even though I know I lost the weight unhealthily. 

I am not advocating starvation diets, or under-tremendous-amounts-of-stress diets … but I must say … they sure are effective. And so I say — THANK YOU, little children of mine, for being kooky, high maintenance little boys. I may be going crazy, but at least my ass is shrinking.

TWO is 5 months and 5 days old. 

Today we went for a checkup and shots. We learned that TWO is in the 95% percentile for height, 90% for weight and 25% for head circumference. What if he ends up being a really big person with a really tiny head? I guess we’ll just cross that bridge when we come to it. 

Here they are, waiting for the nurse to come administer the shots. ONE is making a sad face because he knows what is in store for his little brother. They are very sweet …

It has come to my attention that 99% of my adult interactions now take place at the grocery store or the YMCA. This has totally changed the way I view the world. 

It also means that sometimes the most exciting interaction I may have in a day is when a woman sits on my purse at the gym and doesn’t notice. Just sits. And I don’t have a small purse. It’s big. And gold. And full of stuff.

When that happened, I was unsure of the proper way to extract it. I tugged a little on the handle and said “Oops … I think you’re on my purse,” but she just continued to sit and chat with her friend — who also didn’t seem to notice what was happening. So you know what? I just let her sit on it.

It’s kind of like when we took TWO to the doctor for a checkup a few months ago and ONE spilled M&M’s all over the exam room floor. As I was talking to the pediatrician about how colic was taking over my life I saw him out of the corner of my eye, picking up the candies and eating them. Off of the exam room floor. I could have said something. But I figured … eh. It’ll be okay.

I have started just letting things go. So a stranger is sitting on my purse. No big deal. So my kid ate food off the floor in the doctor’s office. That’s okay. So I got mascara all over my eyelid this morning and didn’t notice until several hours later. At least it didn’t get in my eye.

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

I sent ONE into the backyard to play. I watched as he struggled and struggled for a very long time to pull this flowered branch off of a tree.

Once he finally ripped it loose, he clomped up to the house in his rubber boots, knocked on the back door and handed it to me. Here you go, Mommy. This is for you. 

I love that boy.

I took TWO to the pediatrician yesterday afternoon. He has an ear infection.

He was screaming at the top of his lungs while the doctor looked in his ears. Then, for reasons I do not understand, ONE also started screaming. I don’t know why. Maybe he wanted to prove to our pediatrician that he can be loud, too. Mission accomplished.

I opened my mouth to ask the good doctor if she could possibly prescribe me something. A valium, perhaps. I think I would like that very much. But then I thought … no … that’s not a good idea. People sometimes don’t understand my humor. She might misunderstand me. Or, she might actually give me the valium. But most likely, she would misunderstand me. 

It was a chance I was not willing to take.

After my self-pitying tirade earlier this morning, I hit the gym. It wasn’t until we got back home that I realized TWO was rocking a fever. A 102.6, to be exact.

I feel the need to share with you that I managed to complete all of the following tasks simultaneously without losing it:

1. Complete phone conversation with nurse from pediatrician’s office.

2. Take TWO’s temperature rectally.

3. Corral ONE in the bathroom naked from the waist down — he was not allowed to leave until he pooped in the potty. Because it’s high time he learned. So far this method (corralling) is working for us. I mean, it’s loud. There’s a lot of drama. Nevertheless, the poop does end up in the potty.

4. Ignore his screams of protest while completing tasks #1 and #2.

I held it together because I am experimenting with a combination of prayer and positive self-talk.  It’s amazing how much confidence I can find in myself when I think about all the frightening things I have done recently. Like natural childbirth. And Zumba.