Dirty Thirty

Well hello there gorgeous.

Today I don't really have anything funny to say. 

But I may just have something helpful to say.

Thirty kicked my ass.

I always thought that was kind of a myth.  But it wasn't.  My shoulder started to ache, I had to get my arm pit ultrasounded because it grew a weird lump. 

I was convinced I had armpit cancer.  But I didn't.  It just turns out that my children are massive beasts and I carry them in my right arm, which caused the tendon/ligament/something-I'm-not-sure-what to bulge weirdly underneath my arm. 

I've only been thirty for a month and half...

About a month before I turned thirty I had the worst bout of hormonal acne since I don't even remember when. 

Totally ish.

And it kept coming back every month!

Um. W.T.F.

I stay at home with my kids, so I almost never wear makeup, and my hair is almost always in a pony tail. 

Working that look depends on one thing:  Clear skin. 

Or else you just look ugly.

U-G-L-Y-  You ain't got no alibi.

I didn't have no alibi.  So I had to find some answers.  And pronto.

I turned to the interwebs.  I found out that hormonal acne is a bitch and you have to hit her on the head with a shovel until she's dead.  Also she most commonly appears on your chin. 

Through some research I found a regimen that cleared up my skin.  So I hope it will clear up yours if you are struggling with the same thing.  Because there is nothing worse than feeling like an ugly pile. 

It just makes you want to wear stained shirts and fat pants and spoon Kraft 4-Cheese Mexican Blend into your mouth as you lean over your kitchen sink.

Not saying I know what that's like.

Hormonal Acne Assassins



1.  Fish Oil:

Through some research I found that the omega-3 fatty acids in fish oil really help your skin.  They are anti-inflammatory and help keep the right balance of oil on your skin.  There is a lot of science behind it, so I'll let you google it if you want to know more.  Ya crazy scientist.

I have been taking fish oil for some time now, but I just made sure I was a little more diligent about taking it every day.

2.  Indole Plus Dietary Supplement:

Since the root of hormonal acne is, you guessed it, hormones I set out to see if there were any natural ways I could help regulate my hormones.  I had heard interesting things about a supplement called Maca that some women use throughout menopause to ease symptoms.  It helps balance out hormones.  I visited my local natural health store, and the man there blew my hair back with knowledge.  Seriously.  He was dropping some organic chemistry on me, physiology, you name it.  Ten more minutes in that place and I would have come out with a doctorate.  Turns out the thing in Maca that helps balance hormones is this (which you can just buy in supplement form):

Indole-3-carbinol (I3C) is one of the major anticancer substances found in cruciferous vegetables such as broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower and kale.  I'm going to boil it down for you very simply but it helps metabolize harmful 'extra' estrogens in the body.  It is currently being researched as a particularly helpful substance in reducing the rates of breast and cervical cancer. 

Once again, I'll let you do your own research, but it's crazy good for you.

There were 60 capsules in that bottle.  The smart, crunchy man told me one pill would probably be sufficient for me, although you can take two capsules a day if needed.

The bottle was $40.  That will last me two months.  I suppose you could always just increase your dietary intake of broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower and kale. 

But let's be serious.

Ain't nobody got time for that.  I'm too busy eating Cheese Its and drinking diet coke.

3.  Last, but not least:

iS Clinical Active Serum:

I had read about this serum on multiple beauty blogs (I know! Gasp. I read beauty blogs.  And fashion blogs! You would never know.  It's like my nap time crack.) This particular serum is for aging and acne prone skin.  I had heard amaze-balls things about it.  Although it did make me particularly sad that my skin now falls into the catagories "aging" and "acne prone," I hear the first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem.

So there it is.

Now this is a one ounce bottle and it was $128.00. 

Pick your jaw up off the floor.  I realize it is expensive.  But this bottle will last me easily over six months.  That is an estimate.  It comes with a dropper and you use very little.  I use 2 drops each (nightly) on my forehead, cheeks and chin. 

I had read that it took a little while to see results, and I would agree.  It wasn't over night, but I did get results.  

I love it.  I feel like it has evened the tone and condition of my skin, and helped clear it.

I bought mine online at Dermstore.com because it is a nice, reputable online retailer of high end beauty products.  You can probably find it cheaper on Amazon.  Dermstore does some great freebies with big purchases too, and many times free shipping.  So keep your eyes peeled.  I managed free shipping and about $30 in free gifts! 

Done. Deal.

I started this regimen about a month ago and I did not break out during my last cycle.  

Tmi? 

It's okay, don't fight it, we're best friends now.

So don't wait! Go out and get your pretty back.



**I was not compensated for reviewing these items.  I did not get them for free.  Just ask my husband.  I just really like them a lot.

Our Genetically Modified Catastrophe.

Well, Henry said 'shit' yesterday.

It was bound to happen.  With a mother like me.

Although I am very good about not swearing in front of my children, I was forced to do battle with a giant, mutant killer bee that was trying to sting me in my jugular in the middle of my kitchen.

I dare you to not say 'shit' when you are doing this.

I had tried to kill the bee/wasp/vampire yellow jacket (I'm not sure what it was, but I guarantee you, it was not natural) ten minutes prior.  But all I did was piss it off. 

I presume I unknowingly bred this beast-insect myself, by accident. 

Stupid me, trying to be a good mother (I always get myself in trouble when I try and do that) I buy fruits and vegetables for my children to snack on.

Come to find out, you're not actually a good mother unless you take label reading classes, (which I'm sure are offered at your local Whole Foods!) and do extensive research to make sure none of your produce is genetically modified and has never been touched by an errant chemical molecule other than pure spring-fed water and liquid love.

I guess that's a great lesson to learn early on;  Motherhood is a tricky bitch.  Just when you think you're really on a roll, someone is going to tell you you're killing your children by not buying organic apples or by giving your child a baby carrot.  I guess baby carrots are a big chemically leaden no-no.  Color me surprised to find out that if I feed Henry carrots in that form, I may as well just dump chlorine all over him and light him on fire. 

I suppose my only option is to hire live-in help so I can fly down to Guatemala and source my own produce, fresh from the jungle.  I'm sure I'll have to be quarantined for an unspecified amount of time and when I get back Addie will be starting Kindergarten, but it will still be cheaper than buying an organic orange at Fresh Market.

Sorry, I got side-tracked.  It's probably a mental defect because I just ate a strawberry from Walmart. 

Very likely the same strawberry that the mutant bee-wasp snacked on before he grew fangs, breathed fire and decided to try and kill me.

The mutant was seen and heard buzzing in the kitchen light fixture (As Henry reminded me on repeat for 10 solid minutes.)

Henry: "Mommy, there's a bee in the light.  Bzzzzzzz. Mommy there's a bee in the light. Bzzzzzzzzz. Mommy, there's a bee in the light. Bzzzzzzzzzzz.  Mommy, there's a bee in the light. Bzzzzzzz. Mommy there's a bee in the light. Bzzzzzz........x 5000."

Me:  "Okay, go stand over there, love.  I'm going to get it so it doesn't kill us all."  (I guarantee if he grows up with an irrational fear of bees, I had nothing to do with it.)

I had already managed to show it my cards by trying to beat it with a JC Penny coupon catalogue. (Which I think just angered it even more.  In retrospect, the mutant bee-wasp just wanted to die with some dignity;  at the hands of the J. Crew Spring Catalogue.  It's the way I would want to go.)

In flashbacks, I remember seeing a glimpse of the wasp-bat as it emerged from the fixture and flew straight at my head. 

I screamed and danced around swinging blindly.

I vaguely remember noticing that there was no more incessant buzzing.  Which I slowly realized meant that the wasp-bat-snake was no longer airborne. 

However, I circled slowly and couldn't see it anywhere...

And then in a very "the call is coming from inside the house" moment, I realized I couldn't find it because it was on me.

And then I blacked out.

Me:  "Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit."

Finally, after an undetermined amount of time, I bested the bee-spider and it lay twitching on the kitchen floor.

Staring down at it, Henry said the same thing we all do when we've witnessed something so horrific and or awesome that our brain is having trouble processing it:

Henry:  "Shit, mommy."

It was hard to argue with that assessment.

I guess the real irony is, I'm told the world will end when all the bees are gone.

Maybe the upside is, by that time the evil (but, conveniently inexpensive) genetically modified food we've been ingesting will have given us superpowers.  Like wings. 

Probaby wings and gills. 

So we will be able to escape into the sea and survive the beeless catastrophe that I, once again unknowingly, and with the best of intentions, created for myself.

Formula = Not Unicorn Tears

Brace yourselves.  Or as Samuel L. Jackson would say,

"Hold on to your butts."

(Sorry, am I the only one who quotes Jurassic Park!?)

I have a fan.

Now wipe that shocked look off your face and let's all give a round of applause to my one fan, "J."

She is a new mom, living in Florida.  And she looks like a freaking super model or really, really classy porn star. (By the way you should take that as a compliment.  Because that is totally how I meant it.)

Super, super beautiful. 

Her long blond locks are always styled to perfection and she has a gorg baby boy. 

Sounds like Ms. "J" has been having a rough time lately.

Because being a new mom can be hard on a gal.  And that's just the truth. 

This shit ain't for the weak.  (I apologize, I'm kind of stuck in Samuel L. Jackson mode now.  I'm trying to turn it off.)

SO, I have had a request to write a little something about formula. 

And, if there's anything I can do to help out a fellow mom in need, well I'm damn well gonna do it.

So if you don't give a toot about hearing about formula, then go on your merry way and we'll see ya when we see ya. 

I am going to preface this whole discussion with this:

If you find yourself looking for formula because you tried breastfeeding and it didn't work out, or you breastfed as long as you could and now you are weaning baby, or you breastfed and now baby is weaning him or herself, or you're going back to work, or you just don't want to breastfeed, etc;

First of all, STOP CRYING.

That is step one.

(Cause, Lawwd knows, it can be hard.)

Put the baby down.  Wipe your tears and have a cocktail, girl.

We are celebrating.  No matter what you did, you tried.  And now you're moving onwards and upwards and your baby is going to be fine.

Better than fine, in fact.

Your baby will be fat and happy and smart and healthy. 

So, relax. 

Now, I'll tell you what I know (which might not really be more than the average Joe, but I will open up the floor to comments at the end; so hopefully if we pool our brains (?) we can all get something out of this!)

There are many, many brands of formula.  This can be extremely overwhelming for the formula newbie.  Because as a new mom, you want to make sure you are buying "the best."  And you will find that no one is going to be able to tell you what is "the best."  Because they are all good, and they will all nourish your baby.  The government has regulated baby formula, so each kind has to meet specific standards.  We began using Enfamil with my son, solely because those were the samples they sent us home with from the hospital. 

It could have just as easily been Similac. 

People have asked me in the past what kind of formula we use in the intensive care nursery, so for what it's worth, we mostly use Enfamil products in my nursery.  But we do stock Similac.  So don't take that as one being better than the other.  We are also sending many babies home now on the Gerber Good Start formula.  This is the formula that WICC is now using, so that's one I'm seeing more and more of.  There are also specialized (read, very expensive) formulas out there for infants with milk allergies, etc.

Now that you've chosen which brand you prefer, there are ten different options within that brand... 

Devil!

As always, first consult with your pediatrician and see if he or she has any specific recommendations that would be particularly good for your baby. 

(And if you have a premature infant, or received special dietary instructions for your infant when it was discharged from the hospital, ALWAYS follow those directions.)

Adeline uses the Target brand Gentlease.

She was a farty little thing in the beginning, so we opted to try out the Gentlease formula which claims to help with gas and be easier to digest.  Just like "Gripe water" or Mylicon drops whether it actually makes that much of a difference is debatable. 

But, you will find, as a new parent you will cling to any shred of hope.  And then you will convince yourself that it is getting better. 

It's a survival technique.

And no, you did not read that wrong.  I did say we used the Target brand. 

Many new parents find it economically easier to buy generic formula.  I know people that have used Costco's generic formula as well.

IT'S FINE!

(Geez, I feel like I'm yelling at you guys a lot in this post.  Sorry, I guess I'm just super impassioned by this discussion.)

You may find that you are not in charge of what your little Duke or Duchess drinks, anyhow.  The little tots can be picky!  You may be forced to give them whatever they will deign to drink.  For this reason I do not recommend buying a specific kind in bulk until you are sure that your baby will drink it.

(Same goes for baby bottles and pacifiers.  But that's a whole different post.)

If you are really struggling to find a formula that your baby finds agreeable, because baby is used to your breastmilk, you may try mixing them together to ease them into the new menu.

Ex.  If you're making a four ounce bottle, mix three ounces breastmilk and one ounce formula.  Keep decreasing the amount of breastmilk and increasing the ratio of formula.  They just may need a little time to adjust.

(We had to do the same thing with Henry when it was time to switch from formula to whole milk.  And it did work.)

I would not use this mixing strategy if, by doctor's orders, you need to have your baby on higher calorie formula.  Breastmilk and standard formula are both 20 calories/ounce, so mixing them will not change the net caloric intake.  If you are mixing plain breastmilk with a higher calorie formula it will dilute the caloric value.  And for little teeny-weenies that is not what we want.

We want fat babies!

Many new parents also find that their baby's poop-a-dupe changes drastically with the switch to or addition of formula.

And this is not uncommon.

Addie's poops turned army green.  A little off-putting, but completely normal. 

You will find there is a vast, vast range of what is considered normal in baby poop.  The color or consistency may change, and the frequency may definitely change. 

As always, if you have any concern, call your pediatrician. 

Lord knows.  I make our pediatrician work.

(Bloody stools, or stool that looks like coffee grounds = never normal.  Get your ass to el doctor.)

Since babies don't just chew on the powder, we have to mix it with water.

(God, babies.  So high maintenance.)

We use the jugs of baby water from the store. 

Much of this depends on the water in your area and the age of your home.  There can be varying levels of different elements in tap water that you may not want your baby to have.

We used tap water with Henry. 

We use bottled water for the princess.

Both children are perfect.  (In my ever-so-humble opinion.)

If you do decide to use tap water, let the faucet run a bit before you fill up your bottle, just to flush out the water that was sitting in your pipes. 

(Be a good person and save it to water your plants or something.)

It is not advised to use warm tap water for bottle mixing.  Use cold water and then a bottle warmer if you must.

Sorry this is getting long and boring.  But you have a baby now.  So, I'm guessing your days of fast-living are over, anyhow. 

So I'll just go on.

Breastmilk, like unicorn tears, has special properties. 

Freshly pumped breastmilk can sit out unrefrigerated for a period of time.

Mixed formula can not.

The directions say to mix what is needed for the feeding and discard unused after feeding or within one hour.

You guys be good and read the directions. 

Sometimes.  When God has his back turned because he's busy dealing with Lindsey Lohan or comforting a brokenhearted Taylor Swift; I will put a full fresh four ounce bottle back in the refrigerator after Addie takes two pulls off it and then decides she's not interested. 

This is against the rules.  I'm probably going to Hell.  But I do not let it sit out and I do not keep it in the refrigerator for more than three hours.  I will rewarm it for her next feed.  (I would not do this for a premature infant, newborn or other baby that may be more sensitive.)

Addie's a hoss.

Someone can write me a comment telling me about how I'm going to give her dysentery or make her explode or something and I promise I'll stop.

I just die a little inside when I have to poor that much formula down the sink.  I just see the money slidin' down the drain.

[Goodbye nice things.  See ya never.]

So I've written you a book.  About formula.

And still not addressed many things. 

But that's life.

Please feel free to leave additional questions, or PLEASE leave comments if you feel you have further wisdom to share.  Or tell me that I'm a fucking wing-nut and I'm completely wrong.  I adore those comments. 

Thanks "J" for reading and making me feel like a celebrity.

Just keep on keepin' on.  You got this, girl.

Delightful DIYs

For the non-SAHMs and unPinterest addicted (I think those two are probaby synonymous), I thought I'd share what you've been missing on Pinterest, while you're off doing fabulous things, having a fabulous time.

I'm somewhat of a serial-crafter.  I love me a good DIY.

These are some of the beauts I've stumbled across lately:

1.  Your hallway looking a little drab?  Need a little lift?

Just break out the glue gun and some old Kenny G CDs.

Seriously y'all.

When you have people over you may need to break out the acid wash jeans and your banana clips to complete the trip back to 1990 though. 

(I don't even know the rules about reposting pictures from Pinterest on here and for some reason can't get the source of this.  But since this blog is not a money making venture and no one really cares, I don't think there's much to worry about.   If you are looking for it on Pinterest, just search "broken cd mirror".   And then automatically unfriend me.  I don't think we're right for eachother.)

2.  I think it needs to be said that a white flip flop is a white flip flop. 

There is no dressing up a white flip flop. 

Or is there!?

Make a 99 cent shoe...look like a $2.50 shoe.

source

(If you're going to do this please follow the directions and 'just add a pedicure'.  I'm hoping that the pedicure will distract from the greasy black foot stains on your bedazzled flops.)

    

3.   Don't throw away your old paper towel rolls.

Please make these:

And then send me some pictures.

(Again, trouble finding a source. I did manage to find one link that wouldn't fully load.  It looked like it was in Swedish.  Those crazy Sweds.  Just search 'cardboard tube cats.'  And then message me and I'll give you my phone number and we can be best friends.)

4. 

People will put anything in a mason jar.

Here's a turd in a mason jar.

Put it on your mantle.  Or possibily hang it from a tree in your yard.  Which I guess is something else people do with mason jars.

I'm baffled, but I'm pretty sure if I wrapped a burlap bow around the top, heads would be heard exploding 'round the world. Or maybe just around the contiguous United States... below the Mason-Dixon line... east of the Mississippi.  Add a monogram and you could take over the South.

(If you need directions for this:  it's lights...stuffed in a mason jar.)

5. 

The funny thing is, I'm sure I know plenty of actual people in my life that would do this.

Unfortunately, I am not one of them. 

Legos are expensive, yo.

(Damn, I thought I had that Mom of the Year award on lockdown.  For all of you still in the running, just search 'lego invitation'.  And don't worry about it; I'll just assume ours got lost in the mail.)

6.

source

DIY drawstring pants

There has got to be someone in this girl's life that said, I think straight leg may be a better look.

I feel sure of it.

Coming next week:  The DIY Magic Carpet. 

7.  Your dog will hate you forever.

Unless your whole family was going as the Fruit of the Loom characters, and you needed the dog to finish it out.

Then I'm pretty sure the dog would just be happy to be a part of something so amazing.

9.  I had no idea that college freshman everywhere were so eager to figure out how to make a projector for their dorm room.

source

Of course there are days when I think I can still smell the Long Island Iced Tea coming out of my pores and I graduated in 2005. 

I bet if I would've went to more projector parties I wouldn't have changed my major five times.

10.  Formula-feeding moms get dogged on sometimes.

But I'd just like to point out that I can repurpose my formula containers.

source

You can't mod podge scrapbook paper on your boobs and store colored pencils in them, can you?

Can you?

That's what I thought. 

Point to the bottle feeders.

It's Two Lines, Toaster!

WARNING!

This post will contain the word 'fuck.'

Probably multiple times.

But it's only because it's part of the story I'm trying to tell.  I'm really not trying to be mommy gangster and scare you away with my sailor-mouth.

The story I'm about to tell is actually supposed to be inspirational.  Well, inspirational probably isn't the right word...

Supportive ?

Motivational ?

I can't quite pin down the right word.  I'll go with motivational. 

Personally, I think the word 'fuck' can be used to convey all of those things; I would buy ten Hallmark cards right now that said,

"You are a fucking great person."

And send them to all my friends.

But that's probably just me.

If it offends you, but you still somehow want to read this post then try substituting a different word whenever I use 'fuck.'

Like toast.

Or beehive.

I'll leave it up to you.

If you have not had children yet and think you are above the word 'fuck', just wait until the first time you spill eight ounces of pumped breast milk.

Beehive just doesn't cut it.

Back to my point.

These days we are bombarded with pictures of how things are supposed to be.  Movies, television...Facebook.  They work together to plant little seeds of expectation in mothers' and and soon-to-be-mothers' minds.

But it is hardly ever reality.

As someone I respect once said,

Facebook is just a highlight reel of someone's life.  It's not the whole story.

It can lead us to think we're doing things wrong when the real story doesn't play out like a scene from a Saturday afternoon Hallmark movie.

(Side note:  Hallmark Channel was killing it last Saturday with the movies.  I don't even care that they are all different versions of the same story.  Awesome.)

On a cold December morning 36 months ago it was that adorable seed of expectation fluttering in my belly as I prepared to tell Michael that I was pregnant.

(In my mind it was going to involve lots of laughter and joyful tears and possibly some lovely instrumental music.)

Me:  Well I'm not pregnant.

Michael:  It's okay, we'll just keep trying.

Me:  Psych.  I am pregnant.

(None of my fantasies of this moment involved using the word psych.  It's like I was suddenly in 5th grade again.  I blame it on the excitement.  Maybe the hormones.  I definitely blame the hormones for what happened next.)

Michael:  Wow! That's great let me see!!

Me:  {Excitedly showing off the pee stick.}

Michael:  I don't know.  The second line is awfully faint.  I can hardly see it...

Me: 

  It's two lines, fucker!

Michael:  What just happened.  Shake it off.

Me:  Wow.

Just as my fantasies didn't include using the word 'psych', they also did not include calling my husband 'fucker'.

(Incidentally, the moment did also include laughter and joy.  Sadly, no lovely instrumental music though.)

This actually couldn't have been a more perfect beginning to our journey into parenthood. 

It is parenthood in a nutshell.

Impossible to plan, and almost never what you thought it was going to be.

(Mostly it's vastly better, occasionally far, far worse.)

Parenthood just happens.  It unfolds in front of you with no way of planning for the dips and dives.  But it's the dips and dives that you have to embrace.  They will be the highlights of your memories with your children.  I'm sure my parents don't remember every 'perfect' moment we ever shared, but they sure do remember the time I pooped all over the conveyor belt at the grocery store.

My lovely co-worker probably won't remember every 'precious' anecdote from her son's childhood, but when he's all grown up I'm sure she'll tell him that when he was two he liked to sit on the air vent and feel the breeze in his hair while he took a dump. (Who can blame the kid, really?)

These ugly beautiful, unexpected and crazy moments.

(Ugly beautiful is a thing. I made it up, or someone made it up.  It's something so hideous that it's sort of beautiful.  Like hairless cats.  Or most of the contestants on America's Next Top Model.  Or penises.)

So I guess my motivational message is:

Don't get caught up in expectation. 

Just let it unfold, and like we do when something totally unexpected, but nonetheless memorable, and oftentimes hysterical happens;

Just think to yourself, "It's two lines, fucker!"

Or, "It's two lines, toaster!"

(If that makes you more comfortable.)

P.S.  If any of my poor, poor in-laws end up reading this... hopefully not; this is not the story you heard. 

This is what actually happened.

Fancy Nancy

Okay, I'm not proud of it, but I used to be a judgey-wudgey bear.

Okay, I'm not proud of it, but I probably still am a bit of a judgey-wudgey bear.

BUT

Now, I have shat out two children and have earned the right.

Under no circumstances do I want "Parenting Advice" (i.e. random facts someone heard once about babies, veiled in judgement) from someone that doesn't have children.

But, But, But, But:

I have lots of cousins.

But, But, But, But:

I used to babysit all the time.

But, But, But, But: 

My neighbor has kids and I watch them every third Saturday for an hour and a half.

Nope. 

Wrong answer, but good try.

Come back when you have stretch marks.

Things uttered by the bad childless friend (also goes by the aliases  "Fun and Fancy Free" (FFF), "Fancy Nancy" (who does that bitch think she is, always in real pants.) and "Judge Judy."

1.  "Wow, little Horatio is still waking up in the night to eat.  Geez, babies are supposed to be able to go twelve hours with out eating by this time!"

2.  "Goodness, little Henrietta still has a pacifier when she goes to bed.  Man, she's creeping up on three.  You better get rid of that or her teeth are going to be really messed up."

3.  "You give Franklin M&Ms if he behaves at the grocery store and stays in the cart.   Well, I guess bribery is one way to do it..."

4.  "Fart blossom isn't pooping in the potty yet!  Wow, she's four!"

Really, you don't say!

5.  "Just let them cry it out."

Sure thing, FFF.  That always sounds like such a great plan at 9:00 pm.

Oh how the picture looks different at 1:00 am. 

Do you want to come over at 3:20 am and listen to two hours of screaming, all the while knowing your other child will be up at 5:45 am come hell or high water. Or do you want to pop that paci back in???

6.  "Just turn the monitor off!" 

Another one of my favorites!

The joys of the "Starter House."

You don't even need a baby monitor.  You can hear a mouse fart when your bedrooms are two inches apart.

7.  "Why are you always late!?"

Hmmm.  That's a tough one.  Coming from a neurotically punctual person, who could never even grasp the concept of lateness:

"I mean, why don't they just get up earlier and give themselves more time... or leave earlier...there's really no excuse."

I'm pretty sure Jesus heard those words come out of my mouth at some point, as he has spent every day of the last two years making me regret them.

Children don't have organs, they have accidents.

They are chalk-full of accidents.  In every conceivable way possible they will slow down the process of whatever you are trying to do.

If Jesus had a toddler with him, it would have taken four days and nights to rise.

Count on it.

Preschool start time is 9:00 am.

I start getting them ready to leave at 7:00 am, yet somehow we are still always running through the parking lot at 8:59, with me yelling,

"Henry, show Mommy how fast you can run!!"

Things spill, people poop (ALWAYS two minutes before you walk out the door) and keys get "hidden."

And your toddler will not remember, ever, ever, ever, what happened to anything.

That is the only fact of parenting you can truly count on. 

8.  "I just can't stand to not wash my hair every day!"

No.

9.  "You must enjoy napping while they nap!"

You know what, damn it, I do enjoy it!

It doesn't happen often, and on the occasions it does, I earned it.

So yes, I do enjoy it.

Keep telling yourself that because I get to nap for an hour during the day every two months my job is way easier than whatever it is you do.

10.  "When I have kids..."

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Sorry I tuned out because whatever you're saying is not going to happen.

I'm just going to save every mom, everywhere the time and energy: 

SHUT YOUR FACE, FANCY NANCY.

Unless, you have stared down the barrel of 2:15 am, a screaming toddler, a baby with croup and a double ear infection and a wake up time that even the devil can't conceive, I don't want to hear about how bad a pacifier is for my toddler's teeth.

We all know Judge Judy.  We all love Judge Judy.  She is a great person.  She just doesn't have kids.  Yet.

But we will rest comfortably (and slightly smugly) in the fact that she will someday.

And that fact alone, is enough to keep us going.

The Check-Out Hood

I find myself a little scatterbrained as of late.  That being said, I'm having terrible trouble forming coherent paragraphs with a clear message. 

So lists it is for now, ladies and gents.

We are in the thick of toddlerism here.  Sometimes it's funny.  Oftentimes maddening, with a fair bit of completely embarrassing thrown in for good measure. 

Toddler Survival Tips/Unexpected Nightmares/Fooling the Toddler/ Why Didn't Anyone Ever Warn Me About This?

1.  They have been watching.  Yes, this whole time.

If we learned anything from Jurassic Park it's that we should all be scared of the Velociraptors.

Because they learn. 

Toddlers are tiny velociraptors.  Everyday they kick metaphorical pebbles at the electrified fence that is your mental and emotional stability.    

They are searching for weaknesses.  Flaws in the system.

They will find and exploit the weaknesses. 

2.  Toddlers are master manipulators. 

See #1.

The first time you realize that, "I wub bu momma" is not just a sweet sentiment whispered by your sensitive and adorable toddler, but actually the first step in an intricate dance to acquire Teddy Grahams. 

3.  Toddlers learn new words at an alarming rate.  While you may struggle with understanding their quickly growing vocabulary, no clearer words will ever be uttered than in the presence of judgemental outsiders. 

i.e.  grocery store clerks, preschool/daycare teachers, other moms.   

So when you pick your son up from preschool and the teacher pulls you aside and says, with an extremely concerned look on her face, that your child has said,

"Mama, divorce.  Mama divorce." several times.

You will then be forced to explain that it's because as you were flipping through US Weekly, you mentioned that you couldn't believe Bethany and Jason were getting a divorce. 

And then you have to face the questioning/disapproving look as the teacher tries to decide what is worse: 

That she thinks you're trying to cover up your own divorce; or that you read US Weekly to your toddler like other moms read bedtime stories. 

Telling her, "It's no big deal, he also knows the words 'faux hawk' and 'rehab'," will not help the situation.

Trust me.

4.  Toddlers are like little shadows. 

I have become so accustomed to this that I stopped giving it a second thought, long ago.

This results in your now very verbal toddler making descriptive proclamations to all who will listen.

In the check out line at Target,

"Mama poops."

"Mama poops brown."

When Henry's vocabulary includes the words 'mangled', 'saggy' and 'varicose veins'.  I know I'm going to have to be more careful of his whereabouts when I get out of the shower. 

5.  Television is not the enemy.  I don't know how many times I've heard that television is bad for my kid. 

Well, sure, if I plop him in front of it all day. 

But in doses, my friends, the television is your ally. 

It can buy you a few minutes to vacuum a room, scrub a poop stain out of your couch, sit down for five minutes to hook a baby to the old boob, or talk on the phone with your therapist....

I mean friend. 

Henry knows all of his letters and most of the accompanying sounds. 

And I can guarantee that is about 80% Super Why and 20% me/preschool.

Maybe 95/5.

6.  Another benefit of television occurs when your child adopts a favorite show.  You can use fictional television characters to get your toddler to do whatever you want.

Examples:

Henry, Caillou loves to brush his teeth.

Henry, Caillou doesn't sit on his sissy's head.

Henry, Caillou loves to go to bed, it's his favorite.

Done and done.

7.  Check-out lines are toddler minefields.

I am in the process of devising some sort of hood that I can put on Henry's head while we wait to check out.

The presence of candy bars, match box cars and any number of other trinkets is just too much for him. 

I know the "Check-out Hood" sounds drastic, but I'm quite sure if I make it out of burlap, twine and decorative felt flowers it will become an overnight Pinterest sensation.

I never realized how much women love burlap (?)

8.  Don't fall for "kid's salons."

They woo you with their bright colors, fancy chairs and prizes, but I'm concerned that the employees have never actually learned to cut hair.

They have, however, watched Dumb and Dumber.

Capturing Henry's stunned attention was easy, I just said, "Hey look, there's Caillou."

Works every time. 

9.  Toddlers poop like adults.  

It's terrible and hideous and it'll give you nightmares.

As my husband so eloquently stated, "There's meat in that diaper."

10.  A toddler would eat a turd if it had Parmesan cheese sprinkled on it.