Wise beyond his steak.

Because my weekend was a blur of Rennaisance Festival debauchery (that unfortunately didn't involve a Dragon Beer OR Turkey leg because I can have NEITHER)  and a wonderful Mother's Day, I got no writing done.  Instead, I thought I would leave you with a Sassism of unparalleled wisdom and insight that I was gifted with last night as I said goodnight to my sweet, scary boy.

"Mom, you shouldn't play wif sharp knives because they could cut you and you could turn into MEAT.  Dat is why we shouldn't play wif knives... or scissors."

Damn straight, little man.  Damn.  Straight.

(Disclaimer:  We had make-your-own grilled kabobs for Mother's Day dinner earlier and he was very interested in where all the different bits came from.  Peppers and onions from plants, shrimp from the ocean, kielbasa from pigs, steak from cows, ect.  At least, that is where I am hoping this little "gem" originated.)

I'm at Dad's Round Table today!!!!

Oh.  Mah.  Gawd.  Ya'll.

Check this out!  I'm at Dad's Round Table today and I think I might faint/pee a little with joy!  Don't know who the awesome dudes at Dad's Round Table are?  Then go brighten your lives a little and take a tour.  Why they decided to lower their standards and let me in is beyond me, but thanks for letting me sit at the cool table today, gentlemen!

Now THAT'S just going too far....

My children's school is being "Audited" today.  What this really means is they are getting their yearly observation out of the way.  Having worked at a preschool in college, I know how nerve wracking an observation session can be.  A stranger sits in your room for HOURS , not saying a word.  They aren't allowed to interact with the children in any way.  They just sit there and silently judge.  It's terrible.  But a necessary evil, no?

So, I'm thinking "They've so got this!  That place rocks!  I mean, I wish I could hang out there all day." because we love this school.  They truly care about our children and take the good days right in stride with the bad.  They believe in play and dirt and a damn good time with a dash of good old "sit and listen" time.  In teacher speak that's learning through play and teacher led learning. *yawn*  Now let's all go eat worms.....

So anyway, I was all like "They've SO got this!" and they do.  But then they posted the criteria they were being judged on.  There were the normal bits like:

- toys and books that are age appropriate
- hand washing and proper sanitization
- nobody requires too many stitches (oh no, wait... that's just mine...)

All very important... but then I saw this, "They will also watch each time a child sneezes, coughs, touches their noses, ect. and the teacher can only miss having the child wash their hands 25% of those times.  They will measure the mats at nap time to make sure they are three feet apart and the children lay head to toe."

Wha?

This has gotten ridiculous!   Oh ... I feel bad for the teachers, considering Hubbs and I dropped off two avid nose pickers who flop and roll in their sleep like marbles dropped on a linoleum floor.

I am all for some semblance of germ control but this... this is just stupid.  You can only miss 25% of the time?  1/4 of all picks, rubs, smears, hacks and ker-choos?  Most kids think shirt sleeves and forearms are tissues (wait... they aren't?) and it's ALLERGY SEASON.  I see soap-chapped hands in their futures.

And the mats?  Head to toe?  Who cares as long as the little wigglers get some sleep?  Besides, if it's a safety thing, then they are S.O.L because, with the way Sass Monkey goes down, somebody will get a velcro Spiderman to the face anyway.  When he naps with me, I still get toes in my kidneys and we have a  king sized bed.  Not to mention the fact that Sprinkles treats her crib like a pinball machine and she's going full tilt.

I am sure these rules exist for a reason... just not a very good reason.  Like a crazy,over-protective, reactionary parent reason.  These over-the-top required criteria put undo stress on teachers who don't deserve it and don't need it.  These are the teachers who have helped Sprinkles get over her crippling fear of strangers.  In fact, she runs to them and hugs them in the mornings, completely forgetting that both Hubbs and I exist.  These are the teachers who say things like "Well, he went through a range of emotions today." and laugh about it because they are superheros with a patience made of something WAY stronger than steel. (Btw, "range of emotions" is code for "Mommy probably would have already sold you to the gypsies." which means Sass must have been absolutely UNHINGED.)  These teachers are saints in matching polos and auditor, if you can't see that, then you need to find something else that gets you a paycheck.  Something that doesn't require common sense or the ability to pay attention.  Like McDonalds (and I can say that because I have worked there).

So rock on you wonderful zoo keepers, you!  I want you to know that, despite what that little checklist looks for, what really matters is your devotion to our future inmates policy writers, decision makers, and rulers of the free world.  We see what you do and are in awe of you.  Thank you for helping to make our children the wonderful little people they are... we couldn't have done it without you!

Pregnant Working Mom's 1st World Problem

     I will admit it... I am running on empty.  My briefly reclaimed energy and sense of enthusiasm is currently being sucked away by the trial of making people on the inside, and wrangling the ones on the outside.  I am  a slave to my raging hormones who first fill me to bursting with love and wonder one moment and then dash me on the rocks of ennui and exhaustion the next....

Apparently I am also a Drama Llama.  ;)  But I am tired, sore, and brain dead... and I'm only three months in.  *shudder*  I think it's worse when you know what you are in for.

     Don't get me wrong... I am happy to be making the next installment of crazy.  The way I feel about my children is indescribable and life alteringly wonderful.  We will now be a three chapter bestseller .. but let's face it... being pregnant also reminds you of why men have been running amuck and starting wars unchecked all this time and not women.  I am too damn tired to do anything except exist and snuggle on the couch and I have no extra brain space.  As I like to remind my poor long-suffering Hubbs regularly, "You know this shit used to KILL us allthedamntime.  And not just the delivery part!  Just the pregnancy could do us in.", but, then he does something sweet, like clean the kitchen, and I just can't keep spouting Non-Baby-Making hate speech at him... I mean, that sink was FOUL and he was a brave man to jump in there without some serious Hazmat-like protection.

But here's my Pregnant Working Mom's 1st World Problem:  Who am I and where did I go and when will I get back?

     When everyone is weaned and on the outside you get used to some sort of "Mom Autonomy".  While the kids are at school you can go to work, sip your coffee, and make big girl decisions.  You can think about things other than who may need to go sit on the potty, what to make for dinner, and selling nap time to a cranky toddler.  (Obviously... I am not SAHM material.  Duh, right?  I actually gave it a go... and then needed anti-depressants and someone to peel me off the ceiling every day around 4 p.m...  No bueno.)   But now that I am pregged-up, my Mom Time is seeping into my Non-Mom Time in a big way.  I am a 24/7 baby-making-palooza with no breaks and NO Vacays.  Par for the course, yeah, but no less difficult.  All those little de-stressing activities (i.e. - Reading Smut and Pinterest Inspirations) I had before implantation have fallen by the wayside out of sheer tired.  And, because this ain't mah first rodeo, I know it's going to be a coon's age before I find my energy and can resume aforementioned funs.  Whaaaaaaa!

Yes... I would like some cheese with my Whine.  Because I can't HAVE wine... so bring extra cheese.  And crackers.  And tacos.

     So, in short (and just short), I am a mess of grieving my "Me-Reclaiming" mixed with Supa-excitement over meeting our newest mess maker.  Oh, and ugly crying over episodes of "Supernatural".  The one where the lesbian LARPer reads "The Hobbit" to her comatose Mom right before they take her off life support just about did me in.  Seriously.

A mother/son moment for the books.... but not the Baby Book.

     Sass and I bonded yesterday.  It was a real "mother/son moment" fit for a Hallmark Card super-imposed over a picture of some soppy-eyed baby playing with white doves.

     Daddy is out of town, you see, so we are down a pair of hands (among other things).  The breakfast rush was over and the 1st attempt of the morning to clothe their shameless nakedness was coming to a close.  I was sitting on the stairs looking for one of Sprinkles shoes that had mysteriously disappeared (those damn sock stealing gnomes have gotten uppity and moved on to bigger quarry) with Sass standing off to one side catching the end of his morning cartoons.

"Well..." I said and stopped because what was coming next was not suitable for younger viewers.
"Crap, Mommy?" Sass chimed in.

I looked up, a bit surprised.  At about the same moment, Sass realized his mistake and started to look a little nervous.

I sighed.

"Yep, buddy.  That sounds about right.  Nice usage and understanding of connotation."  He looked relieved. "But remember... your teachers really wouldn't like you to use that word.  Oh, and don't say it in front of Daddy.  Then we'll both get in trouble."  He nodded seriously and turned back to Jake and The Neverland Pirates.

Maybe I'm too lax.
Maybe I'm just tired.
Maybe it was relief that he hadn't used any number of overheard choice phrases.
Or maybe I saw the understanding in his eyes that "crap" was not the best choice of words and was satisfied with that.
Also.... the fact that he used it so correctly is totally my fault.... aaaand makes me a little proud. Tee-hee.

Open letter to my Grey Matter

Dear Cerebellum and the Sparky little Inhabitants therein,

I miss you.  Your loss has left me a foggy hot mess.  I have enough left in me to understand that  I was at one point a competent and functioning human being, but not enough to help me reclaim my former cerebral glory. You are cruel to leave me so.

I mean... I know we have had our differences and all, but can you find it in you neurons to forgive me?  It was only 5 or 6 years of shots of hard liquor followed by Irish Car Bombs!  I didn't mean it....  Well, that's a lie.  I had a great time but I realize now how hard it must have been on you.  ...And those one or two times on the Super Spinny Redneck Carnival Ride Of Death really weren't my fault!  My husband made me do it. ...And I never meant to land face first in the dirt all those times I got thrown off the horses!  You can blame that on my abnormally large, dense, and heavy skull coupled with a faulty sense of direction.  See!  It wasn't really me!

I am also so very sorry I made you watch Twilight.  I kept going even though I could hear your pitiful screams as your bright little electric lights were snuffed out one by horrified one...  I regret that now and wish to make amends.

Come back to me!  I need you for phone numbers, my children's names, pediatrician and OB appointments... I need you for company.  I am so tired of just laying on the couch and staring at the remote knowing I am supposed to remember something but never figuring out what important TV show I missed...
Do you realize that I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT GAME OF THRONES LAST NIGHT?  My one saving grace is Hubbs DVR'ed it... See what I have been reduced to?  See what madness you have driven me to? I am a pathetic shell... a badly xeroxed butt of my former self.

Everyone on the Internet says you will come back to me eventually (like the second trimester) but I cannot wait!  How can you make me suffer so?  After all that we have been through?  I am nothing without you...

Please...

I have lost that conscious feeling...

Name Game

Conversation with Sass Monkey the other night:

Me:  "We are trying to pick out names for the new baby.  What do you think we should name it if it's a boy?"
Sass:  "We... we... we should name it GUN-MAN!"
Hubbs and I snicker.  This has been a favorite name of Sass's for some time now.  It is entirely of his own creation.
Hubbs:  "Well... what if it's a girl?  What should we name it?"
Sass:  *looking very serious* "I don't like girls."
More parental snickering.
Me:  "But honey, it might be a sister."
Sass: *Looks dismayed*  "But I already have a sister!  I want a brother!"

Alright then.... lemme get on that.....  :)

In his defense... sisters are kinda brutal....

*Heavy Sigh* (Eye Roll) *Facepalm*

Okay... start by reading this.... http://www.babble.com/baby/readers-respond-why-im-pro-formula-feeding/.

Did you read the comments?  You should because that's where all the "fun" begins.

     That's right... I'm the  "Pie Hole" Mom....  :)  And for those of you who know me and this blog... well, of COURSE he had a ravenous pie hole!  He still does!  You should have seen how fast dinner disappeared last night... oh, AND the bedtime snack.

     Where have our manners gone, folks (not to mention our sense of humor)?  Manners and compassion are what separate us from the wild beasts.  Though I must say, some of those commenters make a pack of rabid wolves look pretty civilized.  And I'm not talking about the "elbows off the table", "no burping in public" kind of manners (those are not mandatory in my opinion), I mean the ones that let us all live together in some semblance of harmony.  I'm talking about the ones that will someday help us all to understand that we all bleed red, love our families, and can get along. Some of us have let our need to champion our beliefs, ANY BELIEF, cloud our understanding of what is just personal choice and what is actually harmful.  We have lost sight of what really needs changing in this world. (a.k.a. world hunger, women's/children's rights, oh how I could go on...) Have an opinion, get passionate, but do it in an intelligent and effective way.  Quote statistics, back your ideas up with facts and well written pieces, use a semi-colon or two... I dunno... but just vomiting your vitriolic nastiness up for all the world to see in the comments section doesn't do anything but hurt feelings and make you look petty.

     I am passionate about the boob vs. can debate, we all know this.... The Nipple Nazis really get mah dander up, but I would never accuse one of them of being a bad mother or not caring about their child just because we have chosen different feeding paths.  (You see, there are so many other very valid reasons I could pick from to judge them!)  I AM concerned about what values are being passed down to their children as far as love and acceptance of the life choices of others.  I mean... my kids may go to school with theirs.  I don't want my children being subjected to their on-the-spot-no-questions-asked judgy-ness or the "ish" that their progeny picks up from being raised in that environment.


Diversity is the spice of life, ya'll... negativity just f*cks up the recipe.

Oh... and show some love to Rebekah @ Mom-in-a-Million / The Stay At Home Pundit.  Her badassery knows no bounds!

Food! Glorious food!

.... and I have emerged, relatively unscathed, on the other side....

     I think the soul crushing, brain cell annihilating morning sickness has finally subsided.  Hence this post.... I am once again a functioning (sort of) human being capable of eating solids and remaining vertical for extended periods of time.  I will be brutally honest.... there are gaping black holes in my memories of the past few weeks that I know are lost forever.  If some funny sh*t went down... well... it's gone now.  Sorry guys.  But onward and upward, right?  Right.

     I would also like to say that Hubbs has been awesomely amazing for this last bit.  He basically got to play single Dad for a month or so... cooking all the meals, dishes, laundry, wrangling the wigglers... all of it.  He was a super SUPERDAD!  Nothing makes you appreciate a man more than when he says "Why don't you go lay down.  I don't want you to throw up on the kids.  I've got this.".  And now that my gag reflex is approaching normal, I will be able to show him how much I really, REALLY appreciated all his wonderful help.....  Get your minds out of the gutter.  I'm gonna make that man a pot roast.  My... what filthy little minds you have....

     Just to give you an idea of the extent of my absenteeism in my family's day-to-day existence, Sass has actually started to ask me if I will be eating dinner with them every night .... and then does a happy dance when I say yes.  Sprinkles just gives me the hairy eyeball and wonders who that stranger is at the end of the table, but such is the way of things, right?  We urp, we birth, and we keep on truckin'.......  Gawd, I just made that sound a special sort of sexy, didn't I?  Yeah....

So I will be coming by to say "hi", visit a spell, and apologize for my silence these last few weeks.  Truthfully though, I wouldn't have been much fun.... smelling of vomit and bloating and all.....  Again with the special sexy?  :)

I am tired Level Orange...

     Ya'll.... I do think I may have been run over by a Mac-Truck....  My agency  plans one major conference a year and guess what?  It was last weekend...but I survived (barely) and now things can go back to what I consider normal (but what DCS may consider unsafe.)

     I would also like to report that the conference went well and everything thing that I was in charge of went smoothly.  I met tons of great folks and learned a lot about lots of things... some of these things I thought I would share with you.

1.  Ladies... our badassery know no bounds.  Back-to-back 14 hour days of meeting, greeting, schmoozing  and assisting while 2 months preggo and morning sick and nobody ends up with urp on their shoes?  Yeah.... I am a pastry-shaped-effing-superhero.  We all are... because we are Moms who get shit done.

2.  My husband is a better parent than I am.  My 4 days alone with the kids and everyone is a cranky mess, the house smells like a blown-up diaper, and I am begging for death's sweet, sweet release.  His 4 days alone with the kids and everyone is happy, the house is relatively clean, and the laundry is done.  Way to make me look bad, Hubbs....

3.  Becoming a parent has ruined me on quiet, comfy hotel rooms.  Ya'll know.... quiet is bad.  When the house is quiet... something is getting drowned in the toilet, smeared on the walls, or dropped down a vent.  I spent 3 nights waking up every 30 minutes because it was TOO DAMN QUIET and my subconscious knew that something, somewhere was going down.

4.  If you wear a polo in hotel, folks in suits wearing fancy cologne with think you are staff.  Even when you have your agency's logo emblazoned in bright colors across your boobs.  No, I do NOT know where room 736 is or when the bar closes...  Do I really look like I need a drink?  Wait... maybe I do?

5.  Hotel food will eff you up.  Like, Oh Gawd I had better get this over with before the room attendant gets in here to straighten thing up, otherwise they are going to think I murdered a skunk slowly in here.


So these are some of the things I learned this long.... long weekend.  I apologize for being absent last week but I promise to get back to my regularly scheduled programming.....