14 Months … Almost.

Dear TWO,

You are a few days away from turning 14 months old, and you are the light of our lives. You run everywhere. You are still very peculiar. I often find you hiding in some odd little corner, eating a cardboard book.

You are your big brother’s shadow, copying everything he does. Watching the two of you play together is such a joy. You love to play hide-and-seek, sing songs, clap your hands, and yell “WHEE!” You can also now say the following words coherently: hi, bye-bye, uh-oh, Mama, Dada, bath, Mava (Maverick), yummy, Grandma (but she hasn’t heard you say it yet), baby, milk, and hot.

My favorite is “yummy” because you really enjoy eating and you often exclaim “YUMMY!” during a meal … this makes me happy. When you are hungry, you walk over to your high chair and say “nom nom nom,” which is something I wish I could take credit for teaching you but unfortunately I cannot. I have no idea where you learned this.

You have a ton of teeth, I’ve given up counting at this point. You love to take baths and play outside. You are now a very good sleeper. Finally. You really put me through it the first year, but I think you’re going to be a pretty easy kid. Every day I feel thankful that I get to watch you lick the floor and cabinets (another pastime of yours), instead of dropping you off at daycare so I can go work in a stuffy office.

Posted in TWO

Mowing the Grass.

Here is how my Husband mows the grass. Cigarette dangling out of his mouth, music pumping through tiny earphones, and flip flops. Clearly, he is not afraid of running the lawnmower through an anthill. Judging by this photo, I’d say he‘s daring the ants to get him. If he doesn’t light himself on fire first, that is.

Happy Saturday!

WHEE!!!!!!!!!
I just realized I never followed up on my hair appointment! I am much improved. I don’t seem to have a good “after” picture of myself, but I do have these …
I left the room, and this is what I found when I returned … ONE put his cape on TWO and he was rocking it.

Living life with great gusto.

Wait … what? This picture just cracks me up every time I see it. Please don’t be mad, friend who sent me this to look at your football player Halloween costume. It’s just too awesome not to share.
 

BIG DAY.

Today is an exciting day.

I’m going to get my hair cut and colored. It’s been almost a year since this happened. I have simply allowed my hair to grow wild and attempted to color it myself.

The results of this foolishness: I look like a lion.

That’s four different shades of orange you see here.
Little House On The Prairie length.


I am so excited, I may cry and/or hug the girl who helps me. IT’S A BIG DAY.

This Is Why.

Today I threw a complete mommy fit in Kohl‘s. I don’t often come unhinged in public, but today it definitely happened.

When we first moved back to Louisiana, Husband needed new work clothes and we had no money so my mother-in-law let us borrow her Kohl’s card to buy a few things. Every month when I try to make a payment, I encounter a problem. I realize this is the price I pay for using someone else’s charge card. I realize I really shouldn’t complain. But last month, I called and it was a huge ORDEAL to pay over the phone and when I finally did make a payment they tacked on a $10 charge for paying by phone. This, I decided, was unacceptable to me and I decided this month to finish paying off the balance in person … at a real, live, Kohl‘s store.

I have gotten three nights in a row of crappy sleep, last night TWO screamed half the night and has been cranky due to a cold. I picked ONE up from school and they both whined all the way to Kohl’s which was displeasing to say the least. TWO poured water and juice all over himself so I had to change his outfit in the back of the car when we got there. ONE was being generally difficult and refused to obey even the simplest of instructions once we were actually in the store.

By the time we made our way to the back of the store where the Customer Service counter was located, I had HAD IT. We waited in line. No one was behind the counter. The other women in line were annoyed, and they were alone. I had a toddler trying to climb out of the shopping cart and a preschooler sneaking off to look at Christmas decorations. Finally a woman appeared to assist us, and before it was my turn at the register, I had already pinched the crap out of ONE’s leg and thought every curse word imagineable in my head.

Then it was my turn. I said, “I‘d like to pay the balance on this, please” and handed her the Kohl’s bill. She didn’t know the balance, and I didn’t have a copy of the current bill. “You’ll have to call and ask for the balance,” she said, while my older son snuck off YET AGAIN and my younger son screamed, ripped off his tennis shoes, and threw them on the floor.

“I know this isn’t your fault whatsoever, but seriously … you can’t check the balance? Because when I call they always ask for the last four of the social security number, and this isn’t my card …” She just stared. At me, at my too-tight workout gear, at my misbehaving children, and said “No.” 

So I took a deeeeeeeeeeep breath, stepped out of line, called and didn‘t get past the option for the social security info, considered calling my mother-in-law but opted not to because TWO was growing increasingly snotty and upset and I spanked ONE right in front of a crowd of women because HE, FOR THE LOVE, WAS NOT LISTENING TO ME. 

This is what I did next. I commanded my children to silence themselves, which they ignored. I blindly guessed at the balance that was owed, got back in line, wrote the stupid lady a check and THEN she told me, “Next time, you can just step right over to that store phone to the left and call Customer Service, they can tell you the balance.” 

Oh, really? Is that right?

I pulled TWO out of the shopping cart and stormed off, dragging ONE behind me, looking one hundred percent crazy-eyed. ONE said, “Mommy … you can’t just leave our cart there!” And I practically yelled, “Yes I CAN, and I WILL, and I DID.”  

Basically, this is why mothers park like shit, walk around with crazy eyes, and constantly lose their keys. Do not judge us until you’ve lived for three days with a screaming child. At that point, everything becomes what my friend calls a “BFD, otherwise known as a Big Fucking Deal.

  

Antiquing.

Today I finally did a normal girl activity and went antiquing with my sweet friend Jamiewho helped me maneuver myself and my stroller through skinny aisles of haphazardly-and-sometimes-frighteningly-piled items that smelled of must.

Here’s what I found! A metal fleur-de-lis. At $29, it was a bargain. Not to mention … it makes me exceedingly happy. Can’t put a price tag on that.

  
TWO did so well, I think he was made for shopping. We’ll be doing this again.

Monday.

I am glad to be working in the home because this is what I seem to be best at. I like to grocery shop, I like to fold clothes, I like to put things in ziplock bags and label them neatly.

Today I rearranged TWO’s closet and now it makes much more sense.We went through it together and evaluated each piece, “What Not To Wear” style.

Stacy and Clinton would be so proud.

Hope.

Every so often, something happens that sets me afire all over again about being a good mother to BOYS. 

Honestly, I thought I wanted girls. In fact, I was convinced that ONE was a girl … and when they said “BOY!” at the 20-week ultrasound I was in total shock. For the next 20 weeks I thought to myself,“BOY?! What will I do with a BOY?!But then I met him, and I understood.

Then I had another one.

Sometimes I feel like these kids are going to be the death of me. They run me ragged. They’re messy and dirty and they wrestle each other (um, scary!) and try to invent new ways to hurt themselves daily.

Sometimes I get tired.

But then something happens and I get inspired again. I went through a lot of crappy experiences with boys in my day, which means I have so much I can teach mine. SO MUCH.

What will I do with these boys? Well, let me tell you. I will teach them to laugh. I will teach them to respect God and women. I will teach them to take care of themselves. I will teach them to iron. I will teach them to write notes to the people they love, just because. I will teach them to think of others.

I will raise them to be confident. I will raise them to believe in what’s right. I will raise them to open doors for others, stand up so someone else can sit down, and ask of the world, “How can I help?” 

I know they aren’t going to turn out anything like what I’m imagining today. But when they are men and no longer boys, I hope I can look at them and truly be proud of what I have done. 

I also hope to not be overbearing.

Sunday Rearrangement.

Today was “Preschool Sunday” at the church where ONE attends school, so we got all dressed up and churched as a family. This never happens. It made me feel like a good mom. I was riding especially high after the children sang. 

There’s ONE, in the plaid shirt, on the far left. He did a great job. He was the first one up on stage and he performed with gusto.

See that big screen in the background? Those screens are located all over the sanctuary, to make sure everyone gets a good view of what’s happening up front. Right after this picture was taken, the pastor, who is a woman, gave the “Children’s Message.” They all crowded at her feet while she told a story. 

I was perched proudly on the edge of my seat, still feeling like I must be the best mom ever, when ONE sucked in his stomach, reached his hand down the front of his pants, and proceeded to rearrange himself in front of the entire congregation. No one missed a thing, of course. Thanks to the giant screens. 

When he was done, he high-fived the pastor for something unrelated, and I felt everyone around me cringe.

Since the four of us are almost never all dressed appropriately at the same time, we asked my in-laws to take our picture. Here’s what happened: the children look sullen, I look oblivious, and Husband looks like he hates us all. 

Someone on Facebook suggested we hang them upside down by their feet next time. I think it’s a great idea.

Conference.

Today when I picked ONE up from school, his teacher wanted to “conference.” So we did. She said that my son talks nonstop and we need to work on that, because if it continues he will have problems next year when he heads to Kindergarten. 

She said, “He just talks CONSTANTLY.”

Well … yes. That he does, ma’am. That he does.

I think I started giggling, but she was definitely not laughing so I stopped. So I said to her, he’s done this since birth. I wasn’t making excuses, I was just telling her I am AWARE. I’m KEENLY AWARE of the chatter that occurs from morning until night. 

This is the part I left out: that his talkativeness is one of the biggest reasons why we sent him to school in the first place. So he could talk someone else’s ears off. 

I also did not say, “You’re welcome,” or “I prayed for you.”

What’s the best way to teach a four-year-old boy not to voice every thought that comes to his mind? He’s not going to learn this skill overnight. He’s making significant progress, but … I forsee a lot more conferences in our future.