Rant.

I am sleep deprived, angry, and desperate. ONE is giving us HELL. He’s a difficult kid to parent because he is difficult to discipline. We have tried almost everything we can think of, and nothing is working for bedtime. Last night was horrible. I got very little sleep. This morning, I feel like shipping him off somewhere. But three is a little young for boarding school.

This is all especially unfortunate timing because tonight is my long-awaited Twilight: Breaking Dawn premiere party. I’m going with a friend and I’ve had our tickets for two months. But … ALL I WANT TO DO IS SLEEP. I don’t want to sit in a packed theater at midnight and stare at Edward.

It’s just depressing.

Maybe I’ll bring a blanket and use that time to take a much-needed nap.

So. Tired.

It seems that every person in my house is making it his mission to prevent me from sleeping. TWO slept for 6 hours total last night. He is currently sitting here, staring at me. Oh, and his left arm. Again.

Between him, his brother, and his snoring daddy, I’m exhausted. 

I made coffee. Eight cups. Because I plan to drink every last one of them. 

Here’s what happened next.

I mistook heavy whipping cream for half and half. I poured a healthy amount into my coffee before I realized my folly. Didn’t stop me from drinking it. Oh, no. I quite enjoyed it. However, I might not have enough left to make my practice run cheesecake today. And if that requires me to make another trip to Walmart, that place I hate so much, with my children, in the rain … well. I may need to consider adding another ingredient to my next cup.

Happy holidays!

Road Trippin.

I just got back from a five-day road trip to my hometown of Baton Rouge, LA. It was a whirlwind, last-minute trip. I loaded up the kids and went. And let me tell you, after the experience I had in Tuscaloosa that involved me, a packed Panera Bread, two children and an LSU t-shirt worn by yours truly … 

I can do anything. 
I can go anywhere. 
Seriously. New York City with kids? Yes. Black Friday shopping with kids? Yes. Nothing scares me anymore. Forcing myself to just go out and do whatever I feel like doing, kids or not, has done wonders for my self-confidence as a mother. I am not one to just sit at home all day, every day. I like to get out and do stuff. It’s intimidating, but so worth it to conquer your fears.
Nothing bad will happen. Aside from people staring. And you may get snotty looks, if you decide to drag your children into eateries like Panera where people go to work on their laptops or have deep conversations. To all of those people, I am sincerely sorry. I know we took up a lot of space.
IJUSTREALLYWANTEDACUPOFSOUP.

ONE stayed in Mississippi with Husband’s mom and grandparents and I took TWO with me to Baton Rouge. 
As you can see, he learned how to fish.
ONE with his second catch of the day.
This is pretty much the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I am sure you’re probably rolling your eyes … unless you’re related to me. And if that is the case, you’ve likely already recieved a copy of this picture via text or email.

I suppose I should just come to grips with the fact that I am just as annoying as any other mother who has ridiculously smart and cute kids.

I am extremely homesick for Louisiana. I miss the people, the culture, the cheap LSU gear that is readily available, and most of all — my family. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get a tissue.

Monster Spray.

Motherhood can send you to places you never dreamt you should or would ever go. This is why we should probably not judge other people. I’m making a conscious effort to be less judgy of my fellow moms. As far as the rest of the world … they are still fair game.

ONE is convinced that monsters are in his room. Specifically, they live behind his curtains. I have tried everything to convince him that:

1. Monsters do not exist.

2. No monsters live in our house.

3. His room is safe.

But NOTHING is working. I dread bedtime. It sucks. No, really. IT SUUUUUUCKS.

I now understand how people end up with children sleeping in their bed, or why parents are willing to lay with their kids until they go to sleep. I am so desperate for bedtime to not be a horrible experience that I am willing to do almost anything at this point. Well, except letting him sleep outside of his room.

The thing is, I know that if we start doing stuff now like letting him sleep with us, he will continue for a very long time. I personally can’t handle the mere thought of having kids in my bed. That is MY BED. I need some space. I have to draw a line somewhere. For approximately 18 hours a day, I have a child attached to me or crying for me. I NEED TIME AWAY FROM THEM.

And so, I decided to try “monster spray.” If he can’t be convinced that they aren’t real, maybe I can convince him that I “sprayed” them away.

Am I enabling his fears?

Probably.

I can’t think clearly anymore at this point. I am simply tired of feeling like a terrible mother who abandons her son in his super-scary (his words, not mine) room every night and makes him stay in there. No nightlight, flashlight, lamp or stuffed animal is making it any better. 

Let’s see what a defaced bottle of Febreze will do. And, if this doesn’t work … I always have this book to fall back on.

Now that, my friends, is funny.

Oh No.

I was feeling not great, but not horrible about my postpartum figure … until yesterday. That’s when two things happened:

1. I managed to button and zip up my size 12 Gap jeans.

2. I saw myself from behind and it scared the daylights out of me.

You see, last weekend we took ONE to a birthday party. Here he is, holding some stranger kids at swordpoint. I cropped them out, since I don’t know them or their parents, and they might not appreciate being posted on the internet. And I have to say, I’m quite proud of myself for being so mannerly.

One of the other moms took pictures at the event, posted them on Facebook, and tagged me. Which was awesome, since I didn’t take pictures at all. I excitedly clicked through them. 

Then I saw this one.

It took me a minute to realize the chunky chick standing behind my son was me. GOOD GRIEF.

Trapped.

You haven’t lived until you get locked in an upstairs bedroom with a 2-month-old and a three-year-old. No phone, no way out. No food for the baby, no diapers, and of course, no ladder.

I was in the middle of giving baths. I was barefoot and scantily clad, having been inside the house all day. We were in ONE’s bedroom, and he was removing his clothes. I turned my back to lay the baby down on the bed for a moment while I helped ONE get undressed, when the unthinkable happened. 

ONE locked the door and shut it. 

I locked the door, Mommy, he said.

You see … we turned his doorknob around several weeks ago because he kept locking us out of his room. Every time it happened I got so mad that I had trouble unlocking it with the little key that we have above his door. It basically sent me over the edge with rage on a regular basis. I finally asked Husband to turn the knob around so I didn’t have to deal with that drama anymore. So he did. 

Now I was trapped with two kids and had no idea what to do. 

It was 6 p.m. Husband wasn’t due home until 9. I had an hour until the baby got hungry, and I had nothing to pick the lock with. Not a wire hanger in sight. No tools, nothing. The door was locked tight. And so, I did what made the most sense at the time, and which horrified my mother when I told her the story later.

I removed the screen on the window, left my kids in the bedroom, forbade ONE to move from his spot and hissed at him don’t you dare touch your brother in the scariest mommy voice I could muster.

I climbed out onto the roof, barefoot, and crept to the neighbor’s roof next door. I pounded on their upstairs windows and yelled for help. When no one answered, I proceeded to do the same thing to the next three houses on our row. It quickly became apparent that either no one was home, or they were freaked out and ignoring me. (I KNOW SOMEONE HAD TO HAVE HEARD ME. I AM STILL VERY BITTER ABOUT THIS.) 

With that option out, I considered my alternatives:

1. I could break the window to the baby’s room, and gain access to the house from there. However, I was barefoot and really didn’t want to get cut to pieces. There was also the issue of WHAT to break the window with … I considered using a music box that I found in the top of ONE’s closet.

2. I could attempt a death leap to the backyard, or swing down from the roof, but that would rip off our gutter. However, I was worried what would happen if I fell wrong and broke something … which was likely.

3. My final option was to break down the door. With what, I was unsure. I concluded the only thing I could beat it down with was a dresser drawer. I was not thrilled about this.

I mulled it all over. I thought about what would cost more to repair. What would cause me more bodily harm. Looked at the clock and saw 30 minutes had already ticked by. ONE’s eyes were like saucers. No one is coming, he whispered.

Nope. No one.

All I can say about this ridiculous situation I found myself in is, prayer works. I struggled with the doorknob endlessly before praying aloud for the door to open and … it did. This is my testimony. I honestly CANNOT operate in my current role as mother to two boys without His help. 

As you may have already deduced, I am no church mouse holy roller. I drink. I don’t church often. I enjoy the occasional swear word. I forget to pray before I eat. I am seriously, honestly, imperfect. However, when I call on Him, he answers. My mother says all the time that God has a special affinity for mothers and children. I believe she is right.

It has been quite a week.

Things I Would Rather Not Do.

I am finally getting around to ironing the curtain panels that I washed. And I guess I’ll rehang them.
If he does anything like this again … I’m not sure what I might do.