"That's Not Food!"

I have not been the most prolific blogger lately, but there has been little time for extracurricular activities.  The boys (and I) had the stomach flu in shifts for about a week.  It started with Alex appearing next to bed in the middle of the night at the start of the week covered in a sloppy paste of vomit and diarrhea, thus succinctly answering my question of "What's wrong?" with one wet, chunky homogeneous texture and ended six days later with Andy standing naked in my in-laws bathroom, patiently waiting for his clothes to be finished drying after he had puked and then pooped all over them.  Andy waited alone.  I had dinner to eat, my appetite uncompromised by the bodily fluids I had just cleaned up.  And that, my friends, is motherhood. We had the flu, I feel like I've been working more hours lately, and, the biggest thing is that we do indeed seem to be moving.  Knock on wood.  Go ahead, I can wait. These two are the worst helpers ever. T...

Things That Alex Is Doing At Nap Time 1.  Kicking his bedroom door and calling out for Andy since Andy is the weakest link and most likely to let him out. 2.  Getting naked. 3.  Smearing poop on the curtains and practicing his sorry speech, which shall include the plead of asking that Daddy not throw out his poo poo M&M's.  Mommy gives M&M's out for successful potty poops, pees, and sometimes just for the hell of it.  Daddy throws M&M's straight into the trash if Alex has an accident.  Another instance of what Mommy giveth, Daddy throweth away. 4. Launching self off of top of dresser. 5.  Climbing atop shelves in closet and attempting to do pull-ups on clothing rod.  While naked.  With a couple dingleberries hanging from his hind side. 6.  Systematically emptying every drawer, bin, shelf available as to completely cover the floor in a makeshift toy rug. 7.  Jumping on the bed and then off the bed and hoping...

Alex is turning into quite the demanding young man.  In fact, I fear that one day he may be a demanding husband, the kind of controlling man who picks out his wife's clothes and reprimands her when she accidentally makes eye contact with another man.  Alex has very clear preferences about how I look and what I wear, the most consistent command being: "Hair up!" The answer to this question is possibly Alex. It's not like I wear my hair down all that often, but even if I'm just getting out of bed in the morning, Alex (who is likely the one who woke me from my sleep, standing next to me in a twenty pound pull-up wanting to know where he can find his milk, iPad, and that blue balloon from last week), will barely have to glance over at my face before issuing his statement.  Hair up.  Fix your goddamn hair, woman.  If I dally in putting my hair up, he will go find me a hair tie.  Here.  Take care of yourself. You're a mess.  Hair.  Up. He'l...

I packed up the boys' old clothes last week.  Aside from the infant onesies and sleepers I had given to a friend after my supposed last baby Alex outgrew them, I had everything tossed haphazardly into the boys' closet.  Some stuff was in garbage bags, some stuff was in wine boxes (ahh, wine.... sigh), but most of it was just out and loose, a barely contained hurricane of memories and dried spit up stains. What a task, to organize and then give away a piece of the boys' forensic history.  Every outfit reminded me of some special moment from the past four and a half years. Baby Andy, closing a huge real estate deal. One year old Dragon Alex, winning the hearts of the public. I did not save any outfits for sentimental reasons.  I had to draw a line in the sand; we are packed to the gills in this house.  I only saved items that I could reasonably see dressing my daughter in.  Easy task, right?  Very difficult.  Of course, any newborn ...

The brain looks good.  The heart looks good.  There's the stomach.  Great.  These are all perfectly interesting organs, but I'm not here to look at some fetus' bladder.  I throw out the phrase "some fetus" as if it's not my fetus, the little fetus that's been wiggling and kicking and making itself known in my growing belly.  I'm glad all of these organs are there, of course, and that they all look normal. But there's only one organ that I'm interested in.  There's only one part that I care about.  And this infuriating fetus, with it's perfectly shaped brain and sleepy looking eyes, is being a total asshole and keeping its legs as tightly crossed as fetusly possible. It's getting to the point where I feel like the ultrasound tech is going to tell us we have to come back tomorrow.  She shakes the transducer against my belly.  She makes me lay on my right side, then on my left side.  Chris kicks me near the kidneys for good measure. ...

It's Andy's half birthday today!  Preschool has celebrated his half birthday as they would any normal, non decimal pointed occasion, and I love it.  Having a summer birthday is not ideal.  My own August birthday went by most years with zero fanfare.  When you've been out of school for two months, you don't have a whole classroom of kids to pass out treats to or invite to your basement for an afternoon of Bozo Nancy's Buckets and chocolate cake.  In fact, I can only remember having had one single friend birthday party my entire childhood.  I can't remember who won Bozo Nancy's Buckets, but I cherished that tiny party and still remember it fondly.  My other birthdays?  Not so much. And so I am very sensitive to Andy's July birthday and Alex's late June birthday.  I think it's just plain delightful that preschool honored this day for Andy, and the kid's had a grin on his face all day.  We sent donuts to school!  He got to wear a crow...

Frequently Asked Questions About The Boys' First Time Bowling 1.  Do they even stock bowling shoes that fit a two year old? Yes!  They do!  They're adorable, and the disinfectant to foot odor ratio is quite favorable.  Andy and Alex were thrilled to put on their rental bowling shoes.  Their faces lit up when I presented the special shoes, and it was a glow so much stronger than when they received their Christmas gifts from Santa nine days ago. This is either a commentary on the cheap crap Santa brought or the fact that experience trumps toys.  Either way, bowling requires significant less batteries, so in battle Christmas Vs. Bowling, bowling delivers the knock-out punch. 2.  Who won the game? I did!  Me!  I beat a two year old, a four year old, and my much, much older husband.  I believe my final score was like 89.  And that's WITH the bumpers up.  Imagine how high my score would have been with the bumpers DOWN!  ...