Let's Bake a Cake

For Christmas Helen got the cutest gift! A Sassafras Cake Making Tool Kit. It came with a bright green spoon, two cute oven mitts, a blue pan, a pig timer, and a rather yummy and super easy recipe for a cake. Which of course, I can't find anymore, so if anyone has the recipe handy and could share, I'd appreciate it! Even Matt thought the cake was good!

Helen loved making her first cake. She is still talking about how she helped "stir." We even did a little bowl licking. The problem? The downside? The cake had to bake for 40 minutes. Which wasn't so much a flaw with the product, as a flaw in Helen's patience. In that she has none. 40 minutes pushed her close to the proverbial edge. She just didn't understand why that cake had to cook when the batter was already so delicious. And to some extent, I have to agree. Batter is delicious. Why bake it?

But batter, cake, whatever your preference, we had so much fun with the Cake Making Tool Kit. The pink "Mommy's Helper" apron that I put Helen in while she cooked didn't hurt the cute factor either.

Christmas

We had a wonderful Christmas this year. Helen really enjoyed it (she is still asking for "more presents!") and Patrick loved crawling around amidst lots of paper. I got everything I wanted this year for Christmas. The centerpiece of my Christmas was my beautiful new Animal...Dyson Animal that is. Its already revolutionized my life. I am a fairly clean person...well, let's be honest. I am a complete neat freak. So I always thought my house was clean. The Animal has proven me wrong. I had no idea what filth I have been living in. This thing finds dirt where I didn't know dirt could hide. It seeks it out and destroys it. Pet hair on the carpet is a thing of the past. And with a 100 pound golden retriever that is a small miracle.

Meg had a wonderful Christmas too. Although most of her gifts came with European names like Prada and Manolo...my designer gift has made me equally if not more happy. Since most days I'm barefoot around the house, I'm just as excited to be walking on a floor cleaned by a designer vacuum as I would be to walk around in designer shoes.

My favorite website in the world...www.overstock.com...has a large selection of Dysons! Happy vacuuming!

Million Dollar Idea

If someone wants to make a fortune, I can tell you how. Drive-thrus. Seriously. You know how I picked my dry cleaners? Its the one with the drive-thru. Pharmacy? Drive-thru. Dining establishments? Drive-thru. Or the occasional curb-side to-go (another great invention, by the way).

Today I needed to get some eggs. Eggs. Period, that's all, nothing else. Just one case of eggs. They cost $1.56. I would have paid $5.56 if I could have just driven up to Randall's, pulled up to a window, asked an attendant for a dozen eggs, and never left the car. Instead, I loaded up two children and a giant diaper bag into a cart, navigated through the store, through the checkout line, and back into the car. It took 30 minutes. I do not exaggerate.

Its not just eggs. I would do this for just about anything. I would be lying if I told that I haven't just driven through the Sonic drive-thru when I've been short on milk. Formula, diapers, if Sonic sold it at the drive-thru, I would buy it. And for a mark-up. I would pay for the convenience of never leaving my car with two children. I'm sure there are people with no children who would pay for the convenience of staying in the car, too. Lazy people, but people with cash nonetheless.

Really this idea has endless possibilities. I would love to drive-up somewhere and say "I need a birthday present, could you bring it to me?" Really what I need is a drive-thru at Wal-Mart or Target. Where I could get it all. Groceries, diapers, formula, toys, cards, gifts, you name it. I would build a drive-thru superstore myself, but I don't want to have to get out of the car.

Why I Love Puffs

Gerber has the most wonderful invention. The Puff. Or Stars as Helen calls them. They come in all sorts of disgusting, yet wonderful to a baby flavors, like corn and sweet potato. Oh, don't get me wrong, I love corn and sweet potatoes, but generally not in my snack foods.

The beauty of the Puff is that is a great starter solid food. It dissolves just about the instant it hits the tongue. Perfect for little fingers to grab, but a good tool to learn the art of chewing, a precursor to the Cheerio. At least that is what I remember my pediatrician telling me about the Puff.

What she didn't tell me was how much free time the Puff would give me. Patrick just finished lunch and is enjoying a lovely dessert of banana puffs. I threw some on his tray and voila! He's chowing down. Mommy free. Its remarkable the things I can do with this 10 minutes of Puff time. Clean up the kitchen (let's face it, after feeding a toddler and a 9 month old, the kitchen can use a wipe down), unload the dishwasher, or the more frequent use of time...blogging and/or email checking. Regardless, I can't thank the wonderful people at Gerber enough for their amazing creation. They thought they were making strides in baby nutrition. Little did they know what they were doing for mommies everywhere.

MeMaw, Anyone?

Grandparent names are tricky. I had an Omi and a Granny, Matt had a Mimi and a Grandma. There are countless options. I suspect its just as important to many grandparents to find the right name as it is to parents trying to name their child!

Helen and Patrick have four wonderful grandparents. But their grandparent names are as different as they are. Nana and Papa went the traditional route. While Ninny and Ger got their names a little differently.

Nana and Papa have wanted to be grandparents since Matt and I got married...and probably even before that! I have a vague memory that they told us while I was pregnant that they would be Nana and Papa. Period. They laid their claim. I imagine many late night conversations over the years debating the perfect grandparent names.

Ninny and Ger didn't have names staked out. While in the hospital after Helen's birth, we in jest told Ninny that she could be "Grindy." A lovely combination of Grandma and Cindy. I saw the look of horror in her eyes. But the horror passed just quickly enough for her to zing my dad by calling him "Grill." A similar combination of Grandpa and Bill. Those horrible names became quite the family joke and therefore, of course, in my sarcastic clan stuck. So for some time it was Grindy and Grill...with the idea that Helen would come up with her own unique names for my parents. Well Grindy eventually morphed into Ninny and Grill into Ger (although an official spelling is still in the works).

What is especially wonderful is despite the different paths, both sets of grandparents have the perfect names. I couldn't imagine Nana and Papa being called anything but. And Ninny and Ger seem to suit my parents perfectly.

There is a great article on Grandparents.com about choosing a grandparent name. Check it out!!!http://www.grandparents.com/gp/content/activitiesandevents/everyday-activities/article/choose-your-grandparent-name.html

Mommy Worry

Probably every mom is afflicted with "mommy worry." I have a particularly bad case today. I was a worrier before Helen and Patrick, and I'm sure I will only get worse. My worries range from the mundane to the silly to the serious. And I can manage about 1000 specific worries in under 60 seconds. These are all the things I've worried about today.

1. Why is there baby food, milk, crayon marks, etc. all over our walls? How much does it cost to have the interior of your house repainted? We'll probably have to repaint sooner rather than later.
2. Why are my wood floors scratched? When will we have to fix that? How much will it cost?
3. Why does Helen hit Patrick?
4. Are timeouts really working?
5. When will Patrick cut that second tooth!?!?
6. Why do I keep forgetting to put Patrick's eardrops in?
7. Am I loving my children equally, yet uniquely today?
8. When am I going to take a shower?
9. Why don't we have any soap in the shower?
10. Why does Helen only like to eat yogurt and peanut butter? Why does she eat peanut butter in a bowl with a spoon like ice cream?
11. Are Helen's eating habits bad for her health? Is she going to be a 300 pound 3 year old?
12. Why doesn't Patrick like solid foods? Why doesn't he like Stage 3 baby food? Why does he want to feed himself??
13. Why do I always forget to brush Helen's teeth in the morning?
14. When do I need to schedule Helen's first dentist appointment? How much will that cost?
15. Am I ever going to be able to find a job after staying home?
16. Do I want to find a job?
17. Do I want to be a lawyer?
18. Can lawyers work from home?
19. Why do I miss working? Do I miss working or do I miss making money?
20. Would Helen benefit from going to Mother's Day Out?
21. Why can't Helen jump?
22. Why does Patrick army crawl? When should he start crawling for real?
23. Should I move Helen to a toddler bed?
24. Why does Helen only halfway want to potty train?
25. Why don't my jeans fit?
26. Why does my hair either look great or look terrible when its curly?
27. Did Helen walking onto the scene of Matt cutting the head off a deer scar her for life?
28. Why can't I keep my house clean no matter how hard I try?
29. Why are groceries so expensive?
30. Why does Chase always bark during naptime? Keep your fingers crossed no one wakes up!
31. When is Helen's mullet going to go away?
32. Should I cut Patrick's hair myself? Its starting to hang over his ears!
33. Will the kiddos behave during pictures on Friday?
34. Will my children be happy, well adjusted, smart, kind, funny, compassionate, tolerant, open-minded, and have a successful life?
35. Will anything bad happen to them? They need some bad things to happen, but hopefully its just the right amount to make them good people.
36. Will anything bad happen to me and I won't be able to take care of them?
37. Does Helen love Nerds and lollipops too much?
38. What will we have for dinner?
39. What should I make for lunch?
40. What will I wear? What will Helen and Patrick wear today?
41. Why haven't we childproofed the house?
42. Why do we have so many toys? We have so many toys and books that we are starting to get duplicates. We used to be able to fit all of our toys in a storage ottoman, now they need a whole room.

I'm sure the list will continue...its only 3:20...I have hours and hours left to worry.

Nerd Alert

Today the gang went Christmas shopping...Helen, Patrick, and myself. And of course, Aunt Me-Me. She can't resist a trip to the Galleria and I can't resist bringing along a helper. It became clear rather quickly that we had different agendas. I hit children's stores. She hit cool stores. She bought accessories and gadgets, I bought "big girl panties." While she made important business phone calls over lunch, I fed Patrick and tried to bribe Helen with a package of purple Nerds leftover from Halloween.

Nerds are my absolute go-to bribe. In a store and a tantrum is coming, out come the Nerds. Refuses to get in the stroller so we can get going, more Nerds. I'm sure a parenting counselor or expert would tell me to use some other strategy, but Nerds work for me. They are easily accessible, cheap, and most importantly effective. Whip out the Nerds and there's an immediate reaction. Pink is the Nerd of choice, but purple is a close second, so I'm never short on either.

Again, today was no exception. Helen refused to sit in the stroller and wanted to walk. Unfortunately, she already had a box of Nerds in her hand from the lunchtime bribery. So there was no ace in the hole...she walked. We had to hit one more store. Burberry. Great, of course it wasn't like we were going to hit the Disney Store.

All I can say is that if you've never crawled on your hands and knees on the floor of a high-end retail store picking up hundreds of spilled purple Nerds, try to avoid it. No one was sad to see us go. Least of all me.

I guess that wasn't as bad as the time newborn Helen poo-pooed all over me, herself, and then spit up all over everything at Saks. But I'll save that for story for another day.

Tiny Prints

One of my favorite finds is Tiny Prints. I've used them for birth announcements, stationary for myself and the kiddos, and invitations! I recently received an invitation printed on Tiny Prints paper and was reminded of how much I love it.

I loved Patrick's announcements. They were perfect for our Big Sister, Little Brother arrival. Helen's announcement was precious too. It featured a sketch of a little girl and a golden-retriever-esque dog, which we imagined represented Chase.

The choices are endless and all equally precious. You can easily upload photos from SmugMug, Flickr, or Picasa. The customer service is excellent, prices reasonable, the products ship relatively quickly, and you can format and preview your product online before ordering. They also offer a Live Chat feature and free sample shipments. So its very easy to create the perfect card! Many of the announcements and invitations have coordinating thank you cards, which I always end up purchasing!

My favorite feature is the pre-shipment of envelopes. Before Patrick was born and I found myself much more organized, I selected his announcements and had the envelopes pre-shipped. I addressed and stamped all of the birth announcements before he even arrived! After he was born and we had all of his "stats" (i.e. weight, height, birthday, etc.) I went back to http://www.tinyprints.com/ and completed the order. When the announcements arrived, it was easy to throw them in envelopes and get them out quickly after Patrick's birth.

Tiny Prints always have great promotions (especially if you subscribe to the site...if you subscribe, you'll get 15% off your next order). Right now they are offering free ground shipping on orders over $49 with code HOLIDAYSHIP49 and 2 free sets of address labels when you spend $75 with code GIFTFORYOU. With such cute products and such great deals, there's no reason not to send Christmas cards this year!

Thanksgiving with No Naps

I've decided that I'm anti-Turkey Day. That's right, I'm against Thanksgiving. For most of America its family fun, good food, and the friendly lesson of the Pilgrims and the Indians. For me it was dragging two kids from one un-childproofed house to another, operating with no naps, trying to convince Helen to eat turkey and sweet potatoes, and trying to convince Patrick only to eat food.

We all got dressed up in some cute Thanksgiving clothes...I was even wearing heels, so on top of trying to convince Helen and Patrick to eat unusual foods, I also had to convince them not to throw it on me. Or themselves.

On the way home at, well, it was quite past bedtime, there was such a meltdown happening in the backseat, that I had to crawl in the back and sit between two carseats. I will admit to not wearing a seatbelt, but I wasn't too worried. My pumpkin pie filled bottom was so wedged in between the two seats that nothing could have popped me out of there.

Helen and Patrick ended the day tired, grumpy, and full of cake and lollipops (well, that was mostly Helen). The only person who was more tired and grumpy was me. I told Matt, as I always do, "Never again! Next year we are leaving town for the holidays! Its too much stress!" Save our money! Cash out the 401K! Anything to avoid another family holiday! But as I glance through the Thanksgiving pictures, listen to Helen talk about the fun she had, and lick my pie plate clean, I think I might give it another go. I'll try Thanksgiving again. On a trial basis that is.

Mia Bossi Bags

In case you haven't noticed, I'm a researcher. Maybe its the lawyer skills applied to parenthood, there isn't one item that I have purchased without reading reviews and comparing products. When I own something its because I've put a lot of thought and research into deciding what is best for my lifestyle! 95% of the time, I'm happy with the purchase.

One purchase (well, a gift from my mom!) that I love is my Mia Bossi diaper bag (http://www.miabossi.com/). When I bought (received) it, I could only find it at online retailers. After a recent cruise through Rice Village, I saw Doodles (http://www.doodlesbaby.com/) and A Woman's Work (http://www.awomanswork.com/) had them in stock.

I had a lot of criteria for my second diaper bag purchase. My first diaper bag was the Burberry Novachek Diaper Bag (http://www.neimanmarcus.com/store/catalog/prod.jhtml?cmCat=search&itemId=prod5550101). It was cute, useful, and in many ways I loved it. It came with a changing pad, an easy to wipe lining (think drippy milk cups), double straps, and interior side pockets. But I needed something a little sturdier, a bit larger, and more compartments for multi-child organization with Diaper Bag Number Two!

I fell in love with the Mia Bossi bags the minute I stumbled onto their website. Lots of great colors and sizes. Thankfully the style factor was a no-brainer! They are adorable bags! I need a diaper bag that I love. You carry it constantly, so it should be something that fits with your personal style!

I have the Maria Bag in tangerine. This a big bag, but its perfect when you are carrying two sets of diapers, wipes, a toy or two, bottles, sippy cups, snacks, you name it! On any given day, I could have anything in my Mia Bossi bag! The lining zips out which is great for cleaning it up, but it also provides some extra storage around the outside of the bag (perfect for storing an extra set of clothes for a newborn!). I love the fur-lined changing pad. There are so many pockets in this bag, I've lost count! Two exterior side pockets are great for bottles and cups. I use one of the interior pockets to store the changing pad, the opposite pocket is for "toiletries"...Tylenol, disposable diaper bags, a suction bulb, Purel, and Shout Wipes. There is an interior zip pouch which is perfect for my few personal items (who has room for much else!)...my wallet, lip gloss, gum, etc. There is a hook for your keys (I can't count the number of times I've lost my keys in a mess of diapers and snacks) and a pocket for your phone (another easy to lose item). There are two side interior pockets which are perfect for snacks. Patrick gets his snacks in one and Helen gets the other. Diapers, wipes, burp cloths, etc. just hang out in the middle of the bag.

My Mia Bossi bag is one item I can't live without!

Bows!!!!!

I was blessed with a bald little girl. Patrick is 8 months old and has as much hair as Helen did when she was 18 months old. The girl was bald. No exaggeration. She still struggles in the hair department. She is currently sporting a baby mullet. But at least we are getting some length, even if its coming in faster at the back.

I am excited because we are finally getting her BIG bows. Not the little baby barrettes, but big, giant, obnoxious, girly bows! It only took 27 months. But I'm loving it. A whole new world of toddler fashion has been opened to me. So today we went bow shopping. We picked out some big bows at our favorite bow spot, Doodles in Rice Village (http://www.doodlesbaby.com/). I was so thrilled with the big bows that I had Helen put on a bow fashion show. She had to try on every big bow we bought. She knew she looked cute. Its amazing what a good accessory can do for a girl.

Another great bow website is http://www.sugar-n-spicebowtique.com/.

Ear Boogers

So gross, I know. But Patrick has ear boogers. Well, that wasn't the official medical terminology used, but I had to internally dumb it down. Essentially, Patrick's ears are so clogged that the mucous in his ears has firmed up and wedged itself at the back. Doesn't that sound a little boog-ish to you?

So on December 5th, we'll be doing tubes again. Due to the ear booger blockage, its impossible for Patrick's ears to clear up on their own. He'll have tubes inserted, as well as an ear booger-ectomy to clear out all of the firm mucous. Ugh. Two sets of tubes in two babies in two months...You'd think we could get some sort of a two-for-one deal.

My Life in T-Shirts

Just like I live my life in out of date Uggs, I live in t-shirts. A few weeks ago I went shopping with my mom and my sister. Meg loaded up on cute dresses, tops, etc. I literally got five t-shirts. 3 of them were black and 2 of them were white. Wild. But I'm an on the go mom...and t-shirts suit that lifestyle pretty well. Spills, spit-ups, paint, crayons, and baby food all look better on a t-shirt than a dress. And let's face it, that means when its time to fall into bed, sometimes all you have to do is change pants. But rather than bum around all day in my 10 year old TCU and Theta party t-shirts, I've tried to be a little more grown-up in my t-shirt choices.

When you are pregnant a good t-shirt matters a lot. Why? Because most eyes are heading directly for the giant basketball bump (formerly known as a belly) that is resting under it. So why not send a fun message with that protruding belly? 2 Chix T-shirts are so cute and comfy. I loved my "Haute Mama" tee. The daddy t-shirts are fun too. "My boys Can Swim" and "The Man Behind the Belly" are my favorite. www.2chix.com.

The t-shirt becomes no less important when that baby comes out from under it. For two reasons. One, the comfy factor again. And two, when you stay at home with your kids, you really need most of your clothes to be machine washable. If I had to dry clean everything, I would have to hit the dry cleaners every day. I love Michael Stars t-shirts (they make great maternity shirts too). Find them at www.michaelstars.com or http://shop.nordstrom.com/C/2378062/0~2376776~2374325~2378062.

The Suit Doesn't Fit

I love being a mom. I mean, I LOVE it. In my lawyer days I used to say that I felt like I was living someone else's life. It just felt wrong. Every since I became a mom, I've felt like I'm living my life. The way I was supposed to. And frankly, I am probably a much better mom than I ever was a lawyer. I still don't think I understand the hearsay rule. I also hate wearing suits. I like jeans. Jeans with a little paint, baby food, and crayon on them are my favorite. I can't lie, I'm not afraid of sweatsuit either. Oh, or Uggs. I don't think they've been cool for about 5 years, but I still love them. Even more than my pairs of Jimmy Choos, which continue to collect dust in my closet. But my totally uncool, out of style Uggs are still getting lots of wear. I told Meg I would just wear them in my neighborhood and she suggested I just wear them in my house. I hope she doesn't see me tomorrow at HEB.

Seller's Remorse

You've probably heard of buyer's remorse, but over the last few days, I've developed a case of seller's remorse.

I've been convinced for, well, forever that I only wanted two children. So out popped number two and I've started selling a few baby items (on a really great maternity/children's resale site by the way... www.labump.com ). But all of a sudden, I realize that selling these things means I really am done having babies.

Obviously, they are still going to have swings in the stores if in a few years I decide to add another one to our brood, but letting go of these items, means that I am at least letting go of the idea that we will have a third.

So the last few days I've been suffering from seller's remorse. Wondering how sure I really am. But then today as we went to our Gymboree Family Music class, I realized that I better stick with my two.

One, having kids is expensive. Lessons, toys, clothes, shoes, food, college, it never ends. I'm sure my parents would tell you that I'm still expensive. I don't think I can afford music classes for three kids. Let alone college. Hopefully my plan of raising super star athletic geniuses will pan out. Two, I can only play two instruments at a time. And that was tricky. What with beating a drum for Helen and shaking a maraca for Patrick, I don't think I could ring a bell for a third. When we left class, I was holding Patrick and holding Helen's hand. Of course Helen bolted. I dropped my diaper bag and chased her while clutching Patrick. What if that bag had been another baby? Who would get dropped? Or hit by a car? God gave me two hands. I think that was intentional...one for each child.

Music class is a blast! We can't wait to go back next week. Helen danced, Patrick laughed and bounced, and everyone smiled! And thankfully it cured my case of seller's remorse!

Tubes. Again.

Well, it looks like Patrick is going to be the second Byrd baby to get tubes in his ears. Helen got hers a month ago, along with the removal of her adenoids. She'll get her tonsils out when she turns three. Both have suffered from chronic ear infections, poor sleep, and chronic congestion.

I blame their father. He had tubes so many times, no one is sure of the exact number. He's adenoid-less and tonsil-less. Apparently Helen looks like me on the outside, but looks like her daddy underneath. Patrick got it both ways...inside and out, he's his daddy. Perhaps I should have been a little more thorough when I vetted him.

At what point in your dating relationship do you ask about someone's inner ear problems? I'm not sure during Matt's and my high school courtship, I gave much thought to it. I also wished I'd asked him about polydactyly. Do you know what that is? Its when you have extra digits...you know extra fingers or toes (like Ann Boleyn). Are any of our children going to be born with 12 toes? Because one of them was...and that came from daddy's side of things (though he was only born with 10 himself).

Below are a few resources that I found helpful when researching chronic ear infections and enlarged adenoids and tonsils. Oh and extra toes. But don't forget to ask those questions or you, like me, might be in for quite a surprise when you have a 12 toed baby with poorly draining ears.

http://www.med.umn.edu/otol/library/serousot.htm

http://www.petube.org/

http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/tutorials/tonsillectomyadenoidectomy/htm/index.htm

http://www.emedicine.com/orthoped/byname/polydactyly-of-the-foot.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polydactyly

Why I love my Phil & Ted's Stroller

I did more research on what double stroller to purchase than I did when I decided to go to TCU. I read reviews, I tested strollers, and I looked at pictures. In the end I got the Phil and Ted's Sport Buggy with the doubles kit. Here are the top 10 reasons why I love it.

1) Its neon green. That makes me feel like a fun mom. It also works pretty well when you have a boy and a girl. No pink or blue strollers for us. And its not like I would lose a neon green stroller in a crowd.

2) It is honestly the easiest stroller to push. It has a swivel wheel, which is great. My previous sport stroller had the wheel locked in place. I hated that. It was so difficult to turn. The Phil and Ted's is so smooth and the turns are too!

3) I love it that its easily converted to a single stroller. Sometimes we go places where Helen walks. Its nice to just keep one stroller in the car and I have the option of throwing one or both of the kids in it.

4) Gwyneth Paltrow has the same one. Other celebrities are fans too! http://www.phil-and-teds-sport.co.uk/

5) I feel like its a stroller that I will use for a long time. Again, its easily converted to a single stroller, so even when Helen doesn't ride in a stroller at all, I can still use it for Patrick. And its well made, so I have no worry that its going to fall apart any time soon.

6) I love how it converts depending on the ages of your children. From an infant, to a toddler, from a toddler and an infant, to two toddlers, it does it all. When Patrick was a newborn, he could lay down and Helen sat in the toddler seat. Now they are both sitting.

7) Its narrow. I was so nervous about pushing a double-wide stroller around. I can barely push any stroller. I was sure that I wouldn't fit through doors, I would run over toes, etc. And I was concerned that in the future, Helen and Patrick could pick on each other while sitting next to one another. Good thing. Because Helen loves to hit Patrick. She's spending a good deal of time on the "naughty stool." Thank goodness she can't reach him in the stroller.

8) Its short. I was likewise nervous about pushing a super long tandem stroller. I can't even drive the grocery cart because its so long. Let alone a 6 foot long stroller.

9) Did I mention that Gwyneth Paltrow has the exact same one? Seriously, she and Madonna go on walks together with it.

10) Its lightweight as far as double strollers go. 23 pounds. Its easy to fold and collapse once you get the hang of it. Its different than other strollers, but once you've mastered it, its a breeze!

Back on Track

Eee-gad! Is it possible that I haven't blogged in 3 1/2 months?!?! How terrible. Perhaps its because of all the events and happenings over the last few months. Here's just a little taste to get things back on track...

We've been on three weekend trips since my last blog. Flying and traveling with two kiddos under two was a disaster. At least for me. Luckily we had Ninny (my mom), Gur (what? Don't know how she came up with that, but its my dad), Uncle Brad, and Me-Me (Meg) with us for the trips. But none of them were without incident. During the first trip to North Carolina, Helen decided she hated any restraint. Car seats, strollers, shopping carts, you name it. She screamed bloody murder while we tried to strap her in on the plane. Luckily Ninny brought stickers which she proceeded to stick all over Uncle Brad the entire flight. Thank goodness for Ninny and for Uncle Brad's good nature.

The second trip was to Tulsa for my cousin's wedding. It was actually a really great trip. Attending an Indian wedding was amazing...apparently Helen has been harboring a secret love of contemporary Indian music. She was the first and the last off the dance floor. Again, thank goodness for Uncle Brad who was her favorite dance partner. I also somehow managed to lock Patrick in the hotel room ALONE and LAYING ON THE BED during that trip. I bolted down the stairs to the lobby only to have the woman ask for my identification to get in the room. Are you kidding me? My 5 month old was locked in a room rolling around on the bed?!?!?! I guess the incredulous look I gave her sped things along, because she did get me a new key.

In September, everyone went to College Station for Helen and Patrick's first Aggie game. Let's just say that Helen learned to climb out of the pack and play and had a stomach bug. So she was sleeping in bed with us and throwing up. Nice. I was glad to come home from that trip.

Helen turned two. We had a great time. We went to the Aquarium on her actual birthday and followed up with a party at a wildlife park. Good times. Patrick's been baptized, we got hit by a hurricane. We lost power for over a week. We moved in with Uncle Brad. We lost our fence, our roof still has a hole in it, but we recovered. Helen had minor surgery to have tubes put in her ears and her adenoids removed, Patrick's learned to sit up, to crawl and to grimace every time Helen comes to grab a toy away. Helen's hair is finally growing and we celebrated Halloween as a fireman and a dalmatian.

Life is good and I'm excited to be back in the blogging world!

Poison Control Part Deux

That's right, Part Deux, as in two. As in calling poison control for the second time. In as many months. And this time it was worse.

Without going into too much detail, after you have a c-section, you get a lot of pills. Pain pills, primarily, but also laxatives. That's right, in case any of you didn't know, now you do. After you have major abdominal surgery, you have poo-poo problems. Which is really not the point...the point is that after I had Patrick, I kept all of my post-partum medications in my bedside table drawer. A drawer that is the perfect height to tempt little two-year old eyes and hands.

I didn't think much of it when I heard Helen rummaging through the drawer as I got ready in my bathroom. What did catch my attention was the splatter of something small and hard on our bedroom floor. I remembered what I kept in the drawer...Vicadin, prescription Motrin. As I went to investigate, I saw dozens of little red pills scattered on the floor. And Helen spitting one out of her mouth. The laxative. And then to top it off, Chase gobbled one up. Great. Now I had a two-year old who had possibly taken or even overdosed on a laxative. And a golden retriever who I envisioned having poo-poo problems of his own.

I wasn't too concerned. Maybe Helen didn't eat any. Maybe she only got one down. But my concern was what if she had eaten five? I better call poison control. At least I could tell them it wasn't the Vicadin.

The lady laughed at me. Told me I would find out soon enough if she ate some. And wasn't concerned if Helen had gotten more than one or two. She laughed even harder when I told her my dog ate one. I bet Vicadin wouldn't have earned a laugh.

So now I am a two-time caller. I'm sure poison control will start calling me daily just to check-in. See what poisons I'm feeding the kids. At least that will save me the time of having to look up the number.

The Mr. Clean Magic Eraser Doesn't Get Out Permanent Marker

I've learned the hard way that the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser doesn't take permanent marker off the wall. Black permanent marker. That's right, its all over my kitchen wall. Okay, to be fair, the Target brand Mr. Clean Magic Eraser won't get out black permanent marker. Perhaps the name brand version will.

It will take off the strawberries, milk, Fig Newtons, juice, and mashed potato streaks that cover the wall by the high chair, but permanent marker is just a little too...well...permanent. Oh, its faded, but it will take a paint job to completely hide any evidence of my negligence as a mother. You know the negligence that happens when you are checking email, maybe MySpace, and you have some vague notion that you don't know where your toddler is. But you think...just another email and then I'll get focused. You hear a drawer slam shut and think...at least I don't hear any crying. Its only when you hear some scraping on the wall and the word "color" that you go running. As fast as you can, but still a little too slow because by the time you get there you have a permanent masterpiece on the wall. And a very proud little artist. So proud in fact, that its hard not to leave the art on the wall, its hard not to give hugs and kisses for the effort. But still, it is a wall and it is a permanent marker. So the big lesson in this house is that coloring belongs on paper. But I certainly took a picture of the more abstract art that graced our house this week. That is before putting a little art on it of my own...in a matte khaki.

The Hottest Ticket In Town

In October I'm going to the New Kids on the Block reunion concert. And sitting in the 11th row.

In November, I'm going to see Madonna.

But if you thought those were the hottest concerts I am going to see this year, you are wrong. The Backyardigans are coming to Houston with a live show in August. Its called Backyardigans Live! Tale of the Might Knights. Its big stuff around here. I have to tell you, I'm sweating getting tickets. The tickets are not even on sale yet, but apparently other shows have sold out in minutes and scalped tickets are selling for upwards of $300. I'm not even paying $300 to sit 11 rows away from Jordan Knight while he sings the Right Stuff. So I doubt I can wrap my mind around hundreds of dollars to watch Tyrone, Pablo, Tasha, Austin, and Uniqua sing about dragons. But who I am to criticize? I bought floor seats to watch 40-year-old men dance and sing. So maybe animals neighbors singing about a dragon in their backyard isn't so farfetched.

Patrick Rolled Over!!

Just when I said Patrick didn't get enough publicity...he decided to roll over from his tummy to his back! What a champ! Finally I can write something in his baby book. Oh, not that he hasn't had accomplishments already, its just that I've finally decided to dig out his baby book to write something in it.

Helen's baby book is 85% complete. Patrick's is 5%. This has really motivated me to change those statistics!

Patrick

Poor Patrick doesn't get a lot of press. Maybe its because he doesn't eat poisonous substances or poop on the carpet. I've started to feel a little bit guilty...when you even glance at the poor boy, he bursts into smiles. I think its because he knows that full-on attention is rare, so he puts on quite a performance.

I'll admit it, other parents are afraid to, but its just an actual fact...you don't pay as much attention to your second child as you do your first. How can I? How can I goo and gaa with Patrick while Helen has her finger hooked on a fish hook? How can I remember to give Patrick his tummy time when Helen has found the phone and is dialing someone?

He lets Helen lay on him. Today she rolled him over. He tolerated it. She's started to poke him and say "cute." She calls him "Trick." She tries to give him a bottle and put his paci in his mouth. She loves to lay under the baby gym with him. She points out his body parts. Even his eyes and the more modest ones. So he's getting some attention. Maybe unwanted attention...but nonetheless.

Somehow though, I don't think he is too much worse for the wear. He is so happy. He is so easy. He is so laid back. He sleeps like a champ. He never fusses. Give him a paci and a quick snuggle and he's set. He's even a genius. He has somehow figured out that if he can stay awake between the hours of 8 p.m. and 11 p.m. that sister of his is asleep, and he gets undivided attention. And no one is trying to ride him. Oh, because that's what Helen did today as they were getting into the bath tub. So I think he is pretty happy when 8 o'clock hits.

The Price of Staying Home

Being a stay-at-home mom has its costs. When I was working, we had a cleaning service, a lawn service, we went on trips, I got pedicures. I got my hair colored more than once every three months. My clothes were better and didn't consist of tee-shirts. If I had gone back to work, Helen was going to go to a daycare where they learned French. So I guess by staying home, I'm costing my children the opportunity to be bilingual at the age of two. Although sometimes I do wake Helen up by saying "bonjour."

But the real cost is that I have had to take on a lot of tasks that Matt and I used to share. For example, I go to the grocery store. Obviously it makes a lot more sense for me to go during the day than for Matt to go at night. I do the laundry. Again its a lot easier to throw on a load during the day than for Matt to have to do it after a day of working.

But the one task that I cannot stand is that now I have to kill bugs. When Helen was a newborn, a salamander got into our house. I actually called Matt and asked him to come home on his lunch break and get rid of it. He told me that if I was going to stay at home then I would just have to take care of the creatures that sneak into our house during the day (to be fair, he did say he would still take on any nighttime killings). So in order to prove that I could handle any situation that cropped up during the day-whether it be a child or a bug emergency-I decided to rid our home of the salamander. I put on Matt's boots (bigger, stronger, taller). I got a broom and some Raid. That's right, I "Raided" the salamander. Raid doesn't really kill salamanders, it sort of tortures them into some sort of frantic seizure state. I actually felt bad about that. So after torturing the salamander, it was still alive. I tried to sweep it outside, but it would just flop around. Finally I got it near the backdoor only to have it flop into the little crevice at the bottom of the door. I finally shoveled it out with a spatula and threw it outside. I also threw the spatula away. It did eventually die a Raid-induced torture death on our patio.

That was almost two years ago. I guess I proved to Matt that I could handle it because I am still staying home and still handling the bugs that appear during the day. Although my methods are much more sophisticated. Today I just used the dust-buster to nab a spider. I can't actually touch a bug! But I still put on Matt's boots...just in case.

Its birthday-day!

Since today is May 14, that means its birthday-day at our house. Patrick is 2 months old, Helen is 21 months old, and Matt is 29 and 4 months old. What a day! Everyone is celebrating except me...who had to be born on the 8th day of a month!

It seems like a bit of a milestone...I'll start talking about how old Patrick is in months instead of weeks. Helen is turning the big 21. Well, 21 months. Which means she's getting incredibly close to being 2. And well, Matt is inching closer to 30. I guess that means I'm not too far behind.

Hello, Poison Control

Yesterday I had to call poison control for the first time. I say first because all of my girlfriends insist there will be a second time...

If you are looking for customer service, for someone to tell you everything will be okay, or someone to tell you "don't worry this happens to everyone." Don't call poison control. If you are looking for someone to make you feel like an idiot for letting your 21 month old eat cold sore medicine, then dial away.

Yesterday (with our playgroup on the way to the house), Helen opened the door to our bathroom (which to be fair, I did know she was capable of doing), opened some cabinets, and pulled out some cold sore medicine. By the time I got to her, the cap was off, some was running down her chin, and her breath smelled a bit medicinal. Yikes. A quick Google to find the number for poison control and it was official, I am now one of "those" moms. A mom who lets her kid eat poison. Meanwhile, just as the phone was ringing, my playgroup arrives. Imagine welcoming people to your home with "come on in, make yourself at home, I'm just on the phone with poison control." Who wants to play at that mom's house?

This is a bit of how the conversation went:
Poison Control: Poison control. What is the problem?
Me: My 21 month old ate some cold sore med---
PC: What is the name of the medicine?
Me: Zilactin. I don't know how she got into it. I was feeding my new---
PC: How much does your 21 month old weigh?
Me: 27 pounds. I just don't know how she did it.
PC: How much did she eat?
Me: I'm not sure...there is still a lot---
PC (interrupting): Well, how big is the tube.
Me: 0.25 ounces. Again, there is still a good bit in---
PC (again, interrupting): How did she get into it?
Me (incredulous since I kept trying to explain): I was feeding my newborn and she stepped out of sight, opened the cabinet---
PC: Well, she'd have to eat 3 tubes of it for something to be wrong. Do you think she ate 3 tubes (spoken with attitude)?
Me: No, we only have one as far as I---
PC: What's her name?
Me: Helen
PC: Your zip code?
Me (C-R-A-P...thinking I am now on some weird poison mom list): *****
PC: Feed her lunch.
Me: What?
PC: Its fine to feed her lunch.
Me: Okay, well thank you. Is there anything I should be looking---
PC: No. She's fine.
Me: Thank you.
PC: Goodbye (hanging up).

Obviously if your child eats some poison, go ahead and call. But prepare yourself...you won't be coddled. No one will tell you that it happens to everyone and you are still a good mom. So I will say it...even though Helen ate cold sore medicine, she's okay. As it turns out, its happened to a lot of moms. A lot of good moms. But I'll say it again...I think its time we do some childproofing.

Dream Interpretation

Last night I dreamed that I was being held hostage by a baby. Not one of my own babies, but just some non-descript baby. In the dream we (Matt was also a hostage) kept driving around in a car hoping the baby would fall asleep and we could escape.

I thought I would do a little research on dream interpretation. Let's see...baby. That means innocence, warmth, vulnerability. Being held hostage...feeling powerless or limited in your choices. A car...if you are a passenger in the car (which I was) it means that you have a passive role in a transitional phase in your life.

Hmmm...that just doesn't sound right. Let me take a crack at it. I'm no dream expert, but I read this dream to mean that my babies hold me hostage until they fall asleep and then I can escape, i.e. watch TV and lay around.

Cinco de Mayo

When I was a senior in college, we loved Cinco de Mayo. We went out, had fun...one year I got my belly button pierced on Cinco de Mayo. It hurt...a lot. This Cinco de Mayo I did the following:


1) Cleaned the house. 2) Unloaded the dishwasher. 3) Did laundry. 4) Did more laundry. 5) Waited for the exterminator. 6) Picked a giant boogie out of Patrick's nose that the bulb couldn't retrieve. 7) Cleaned crayon off the couch. 8) Gave two baths. 9) Played with blocks. 10) Watched the Backyardigans. 11) Heated up leftover mac-n-cheese for dinner. 12) Changed a lot of diapers.


All in all, it was the best Cinco de Mayo I've had yet. And it hurt a lot less.

Matt

Matt is a strange fellow. He does things that are totally foreign to me. He keeps baked goods (i.e. cookies, bread, etc.) in the microwave to keep them fresh. He cleans dishes with the hand soap we have beside the sink instead of the dish soap that is under it. He is a pack-rat. He doesn't mind clutter. He thinks that old Cool Whip containers should be kept as bowls. He likes to watch South Park. I hate South Park. He always leaves those little dry-cleaning tags on the dresser instead of throwing them away. He thinks the garage is for storage and not for my car.

He drives me crazy. Everyday I think I'm about to cross over into certifiable crazy territory as I pick up those dry-cleaning tags. Yesterday when I watched him wash something with hand soap I think my eyes got stuck in the back of my head they rolled so far back.

But he is the most amazing father. He takes Helen fishing in the lakes around our house. He changes Patrick's diapers. Everyday when Helen gets home, he takes her outside to look for planes. He hung a bird feeder outside on our patio so we can all watch the birds. He takes everyone on walks on the weekends so I can read my book or catch up around the house without interruption. He makes dinner on occasion and doesn't mind eating cereal when the day has been to hectic to actually cook. He doesn't mind that I am crazy picky about keeping the house neat and how we raise our kids. He doesn't mind that I'd rather stay home on the weekends with the family than go out. In fact, he likes to stay in as much as I do. He'll stop at the grocery store when all I need is milk because he knows that its not worth it to take two little ones to the store just for one thing. He works a million hours a week and travels all the time so I don't have to.

So tomorrow morning when I throw away his dry-cleaning tags, wash all the water spots off the mirror, and hang up his wet towel, I'm going to try to remember that sometimes its hard for him to do it all. And I'd much rather him be out looking for planes than picking up those tags. But if he could do both, that would be great too.

They are finally worth it...literally.

Today I went to protest our property tax appraisal. In Matt's never-ending quest to save money and in mine to be a know-it-all lawyer, we thought it might be a fun exercise.

I loaded up Helen and Patrick and drove the 45 minutes to Angleton and the county appraisal office. I was armed with documents, arguments about fair market versus appraised values, and my winning personality. Little did I know the strongest weapons in my arsenal were strapped into a neon green double stroller.

While I was meeting with the appraiser Helen kept asking for cookies. I gave her raisins. She threw them on the ground. Patrick was screaming. His paci kept falling out of his mouth. Helen took the bow out of her hair and tossed it on the ground next to the raisins. I looked down and Patrick was sliding out of the stroller. His legs were hanging out and Helen was kicking them. He screamed even louder. Helen wanted to play with my documents. I gave her a scrap piece of paper and she took a bite out of it.

The appraiser's office was the size of Helen and Patrick's bathroom. She kept having to step out to make copies of my documents. She had to climb over the stroller, the screaming 7 week old, and the 20 month old chewing on paper. I kept apologizing. She remained pretty silent.

After her second trip to the copy machine, Helen took off her shoes and threw them. At that point, the appraiser offered me a settlement of my protest. I hadn't even scratched the surface of my argument. Our settlement reduced the county appraised value of our house by $70,000 from last year. I'd like to think that I really wore them down. My preparation and well-reasoned arguments were that good. But in reality, I think bringing two kids under two might have given me the edge. I think the county thought that it was worth losing the extra tax revenues just to get me out of there.

Being a boy's mom...

So its quite interesting for me being a boy's mother...There are a lot of things I didn't know about.

First of all, diaper changes are a whole new world. This penis bit is a little hard to get used to. I have to admit every time I open one of Patrick's diapers, I forget that there is one in there. It sprays pee on me. It sprays pee everywhere frankly. The other day it sprayed pee on my shoe. How that is possible, I don't know. But I'm telling you, my shoe (while on my foot) got peed on.

Second of all, Patrick is stinky. I know he is only 7 weeks old, but he is a stinky boy. He just never has had that sweet new baby smell that Helen did. Now this could be because he gets baths only about twice a week (seriously, I only have time to bathe one baby a day, and Helen wins because she plays outside, eats food, and hangs out with other dirty kids). But I think boys just might have an inherent stinkiness about them. I understand that this stink will only get worse as he gets older.

I understand that boys like trucks, construction equipment, trains, and balls. I don't know anything about these things. I also hear that boys like to be dirty. How strange. I don't understand the rules of baseball. I have a moderate understanding of the rules of football. I suspect I will have to brush up on these things. What is tee ball? When do boys start shaving? These are the questions I have.

I also think a lot about what my future will be like with Patrick. When he gets engaged, I won't be the first person he and his fiance call. I won't be the first one to know they are pregnant. I won't share in the big events in his life the way I likely will with Helen. Chances are he'll spend holidays somewhere else. And you know, I'm really okay with that. I think that girls, as they get older, maybe still need their moms a little bit. They need advice...what their mother went through, how they handled it, etc. Girls and their moms become good friends. For Patrick, I won't fill that same role. I think the best thing I can do for Patrick is to raise him to be a strong, independent man. A good provider, a good husband, a good father. Then he can step away from me and be those things for someone else. In the meantime, I'm just going to do a little research about tee ball.

Time to Babyproof!

We've never babyproofed. Not really. We have plugs in the outlets and as a general rule don't have anything out that isn't okay for Helen to play with or we wouldn't be devastated to lose. But in reality we don't have a very babyproof house-at least not compared with some of our friends.

This hasn't been a big problem. I've trained Helen pretty well. She knows for the most part what she isn't allowed to play with and where she isn't allowed to go. 95% of the time she is a pretty obedient little girl. Okay 75% of the time. But thankfully she's been cooperative enough that we haven't had to lock the refrigerator, put gates up, lock the cabinets, or seal the toilet. Until today...today she opened up a cabinet, took out a bottle of whiskey, and brought it to me with a huge smile on her face. She looked at me and asked, "juice?" Oops. I guess its time to lock at least one cabinet.

Two and Out

I'm done having kids. I'm so sure that I am really regretting not taking my doctor up on his permanent fix offer. As he, not so delicately put it, "you are having a c-section, its just staring me right in the face." He even offered to do it for free. Before having Patrick I was 99% sure that I only wanted two. It was that 1% that held me back. But now, I'm done. I'm sure of it. Its two and out for me.

I have a lot of reasons for being happy with my two. Maybe its because I came from a family of two. Maybe its because I have one of each and I don't want to upset the balance.

Some of my reasons are selfish. I want to close the book on the baby chapter of my life. I don't want to have a five year old and a newborn. I like to do everything in phases. This is the diaper phase of my life. When its over, I want it over. There will be a school phase, a college phase, etc. And then I will get to have my "second life" phase.

I don't want to be pregnant again. I hate being pregnant. I hate not being able to see my toes. I hate puking. I hate it when they have to move the scale past 150 pounds. I want them both in school so I can eventually go back to work one day. I love staying at home, but I really miss having a Blackberry.

With two kids, there will always be a buddy. No one will have to ride a roller coaster alone. No one will have to sleep on a trundle bed in a hotel. I love it that they are close in age. They will have similar interests. We can go to the movies as a family and entertain everyone.

I guess the real reason is that I just know my family is complete. I don't feel like there is another baby out there that I am supposed to meet. I just feel like we are done. I feel like Patrick completed us. And besides that, I want to play them man to man. Its tough being outnumbered. During the day when I have to play zone, I almost always lose.

Vices

I have a lot of weaknesses. I love TV. I love fast food. I love Coke. In the back of my mind, I've always thought that I should cut back on those things. But now its a must. Helen is picking up my bad habits!

She loves TV. Well, to be fair, she loves one TV show. The Backyardigans. She calls it "Tasha," because her favorite character is named Tasha. She sees the TV and asks for Tasha. She hands me the remote and asks for Tasha. The other day at gymnastics she asked to watch Tasha. The TV problem is really my own fault. Before Helen turned one, she wasn't allowed to watch any TV. Then I was pregnant, puking, etc. and I needed some quiet time. So I discovered The Backyardigans, decided it was the only children's television show I could stomach, and plopped her in front of the TV. She didn't even like it at first! I forced it on her day after day for a week. Finally she was hooked. Then it was just one episode a day, it slowly turned to two, and now, well, I won't lie, there are days when she gets 2 hours of Tasha time. I try to tell myself that its educational. Its a pretty wordly show. It teaches a great deal about other countries, other cultures, history, etc. Unfortunately, the only thing I think she's learned is to shake her drink (from the episode spoofing James Bond, where Pablo the penguin likes his juice boxes shaken, not stirred).

The fast food is problematic too. Its hard to swing through the McDonald's drive-thru and just get something for myself. I just hear a little voice in the backseat asking for "fries, fries, fries!" Today for lunch Helen and I both had peanut butter sandwiches. I had mine with chips, she had hers with grapes. She threw the grapes on the floor and kept asking for "picks, picks!" Translation...that means chips. I thought to myself, "well, I can't really sit here and eat chips and tell her no." So she got some chips. The sandwich hit the floor and I heard requests for "picks" the entire lunch. I can also trace this problem back to my pregnancy. I used to be a little crazy about what Helen would eat. No junk, no juice, I was even going to make my own baby food so I could be sure there were no additives. Again, the pregnancy and puking hit and Helen started eating chicken nuggets.

Thank goodness she's stayed away from Cokes. Although if you leave one unguarded for even a second, she's on it. And she likes it. A lot.

I just want her to be healthier than me. I want her to be active, fit, exercise, and eat healthy. So many children today are struggling with weight issues. I've heard that today's children will have a shorter life expectancy than their parents because of the rise in obesity. That's so scary! I think what's even more scary is how quickly your children pick up your own bad habits. So I think if I really want to change Helen's habits, I've got to change my own. So I'm cutting back the yummy...I mean yucky...food, I'll make sure to only turn on Tasha when I absolutely need her, and I'll only drink Cokes when Helen's asleep. Which reminds me, she's asleep now. I better eat a cookie and a Coke while I watch my DVRed shows from last week!!

Wildlife Adventure

Today I took both kiddos to a wildlife park. Its several acres of exotic deer, camels, a giraffe, a rinocerous, birds, etc. You ride around on a tram feeding the animals. Pretty fun, right? I brought two wild animals of my own. I was venturing into the unknown. My first non-shopping outing with two kids and no assistant (namely Me-Me). This was going to be a true adventure.

Last night I stayed awake wondering how I was going to manage this with two kiddos. Should I keep Patrick in his carrier while we ride? Should I put him in a sling? And what in the world would I do if Helen started running wild? I opted for the sling. Its really the only method that allows me to pick up two kiddos at one time or run after the mobile one. But it is a bit like having, well, an 11 pound bulge.

We managed pretty well. I couldn't bring a camera on the ride, or anything else for that matter. No bag, no snacks, no water. We were roughing it. All I brought was two children and my keys. And that was one thing too many. Patrick enjoyed it the most...sleeping the entire time with his face pressed against my chest. I can tell he's a real animal lover. Helen loved checking out all the animals. She picked up some sort of unidentified animal poo while we were waiting to start the ride, but thankfully quickly put it down. While on the tram she loved throwing the pellets of food. Oh, not to the animals. Just throwing them. She loved the camels. Hated the cows. Strange. Maybe she found the cows too boring. They also mooed very loudly. Perhaps that was scary.

All in all, I think it was a success. Helen had fun. Patrick slept. One child was an angel (the sleeper) and the other was pretty good. So I'll call it a perfect day. The most perfect part was when everyone got home and slept. Oh and took showers. The wildlife park was a little too wild for me.

Squishy

Yea! Pat myself on the back...I've lost all my baby weight. So why don't my pants fit? I think its because of the squishy factor. I'm squishy in places I wasn't before. I have bulges in strange areas. My fat jeans look like my skinny jeans. My belly is soft. I'm not saying I had rock-hard abs before, but things were definitely flatter, firmer, and stayed in a bit more. I'm not sure I recognize this body.

On Friday, I'll get the clearance to start exercising again. I'm trying to figure out when I will squeeze it in. I'm nervous that since I can barely fit in a shower or a bathroom break, a genuine work out might be out of the question. I might try to do crunches while reading to Helen, butt crunches while nursing, squats while folding laundry, and I think I'll start to lift the kids over my head like they are weights. Opportunities when both kids are asleep, so I could do a work out on my own are rare. Rarely are both happy enough to sit in the stroller for a jog. Although to be fair, both of them are asleep right now and I am watching the show "Work Out" on Bravo instead of actually working out myself. But its really motivating me. Although this Hershey Bar commerical is also motivating me...to eat some candy. Hmmm...what to do, what to do? Well, since I can't officially start working out until Friday, I better keep watching TV and eat that chocolate.

Awwww!

This afternoon we were getting into the car. I really don't have a good system yet for getting both kiddos into the car, but it usually goes something like this:

Get everyone dressed, ready, diapers changed, fed, diapers changed again. This takes 1-3 hours. Put Patrick into his carrier. Usually screaming. Take all equipment, including giant two-child size diaper bag and load it up. Take Helen to the car and load her up. Go back into the house and get Patrick. Load him up. Finally we are ready to depart.

Today while I was loading Helen up, she kept saying something I didn't understand. Finally I understood her to be saying "Trick, Trick, Trick." I asked her, "Patrick?" She said "please!" I asked, "Do you want me to go get Patrick?" She screamed, "PLEASE!!" Maybe she does like him after all!

My Mom Role Model

I didn't have to look very far to find my mothering role model...just to my own mom! She is absolutely amazing. She makes me a better mom.

First of all, she looks good. She's skinny. I find this to be a goal of all moms. Because let's face it, its hard. Today for lunch I ate a piece of chocolate and a Coke. I don't work out. I wear pants that have elastic waistbands. And flip flops. She goes to the gym. She wears cool clothes. She wears fabulous shoes. She is definitely a cute mom. And without disclosing her age, I'll just say she's on the other side of 50. She looks better than I do at 28.

Second of all, she has more energy than any human being I have ever met. She takes care of herself, my dad, my sister, me, my husband, my kids, even my dog. She does so much for everyone around her. When we moved, I was in the throws of 24-7 morning sickness. She took a week off of work to pack up my whole house. I could barely lift a finger. I can barely pack up a whole house even when I'm not puking.

She thinks of EVERYTHING. Easter fell six days after Patrick was born. There was no way I was going to do an Easter egg hunt for Helen. In steps my mom. She gets the eggs, the goodies, and makes us an entire Easter brunch. All without me moving off the couch. She sends people to clean my house when we have a lot going on. She ordered both kids' birth announcements and made goodies for me to hand out to people. She made wreaths for my door when both of the babies were born. I'm not even sure I know where to buy a wreath.

She is creative. Like I said, she makes things. Food, goodies, wreaths. She painted things for both nurseries. She painted animals and letters for Helen's. She went and found wooden paddles to paint for Patrick's. She can do calligraphy. Sometimes I don't think she's real.

She totally gets me. In that I mean that she totally gets that I am the most anal mom around. I do crazy things. I'm sure she thinks they are crazy. But she respects that I've done my research and have good reasons for the crazy things I do. Or at least I believe my reasons are good. She respects my crazy rules. She always asks before she does anything for the kiddos. She knows that I like to research everything, even what kind of socks to buy the kids. I told you, I'm crazy anal. She knows that I need to hear from time to time that I'm a good mom, so she tells me. All the time.

She stayed at home with us for years. And now she's got this amazing career, she travels, she has great friends. She's been out to dinner, out to bars, and out of the country more times in the last two years than I have. She reminds me that children are spectacular, but life after the children are grown can be amazing. I hope that once Helen and Patrick are older my life will look a lot like hers. I hope I can do for them what she does for me. I hope that while they are little, I can be the kind of mom I remember her being. And I hope I can do it all with the same amount of class. Oh and I hope that I can do it all looking just as good.

Woohoo!

Patrick slept for 5 1/2 hours straight last night. That's the third night of 5+ hours. Do you think they'll need my address for the Mother of the Year Award?

I don't want to jinx myself (wait and see, tonight we'll be up all night), but Patrick is a phenomenal sleeper. Unlike his older sister who was a firm believer in the cat-nap, Patrick likes a good long snooze. A man after my own heart.

The Story of My Glasses

Over the last two and a half years, I've had one crisis or another regarding my glasses. The timing coincides perfectly with getting pregnant with Helen, so I don't think its a coincidence.

December 26, 2005. I lost one pair of glasses. I thought they were gone forever and get a new pair in March 2006. During this entire time I survived on just contacts, which is a miserable experience for the visually challenged. Only in August 2007, do I find the original pair of glasses. They were in a basket in my bathroom. I found them because I was now pregnant with Patrick. Since I am the pukiest (is that a word?) pregnant person around, I go into the bathroom to throw up. I take the second pair off and stick them in a basket while said vomiting occurs. When I go to retrieve them, I find both pairs of glasses. Funny thing, in December 2005 I was preggers with Helen and had no idea. I recall a similiar vomiting experience on the 26th and suspect that I had done the same thing with the original pair.

From August 2007 until January 2008, I lived happily with two pairs of glasses. It was a luxury to have a spare. The problem is that Helen believes glasses to be toys. I blame several people for this. You know who you are...grandparents and great-grandparents. That's right, you've let Helen play with your glasses because it makes her happy. And let's face it, its cute. But I've had to deal with the fallout.

January 2008. Helen takes a pair of glasses off my face and throws them on the floor. The lenses pop out, but I rig them to continue on. A week later, she grabs them again and drops them. The lenses shatter. Said glasses are no longer functional. Thank goodness for the spare. The spare got me all the way through the end of this March. Then Helen bent the ear pieces and snapped one off. Not reparable. I survive for a week just wearing the glasses at night with only one ear piece. And then, through no fault of Helen's, I drop the glasses and the lenses pop out. I realize that its time for new glasses.

Easy enough, you say? Oh, but you don't have a toddler and a newborn! So last week, I load up Helen, Patrick, and thank goodness, Me-Me and we head off to the eye doctor. An hour later, mission accomplished, my new glasses are ordered. I just had to wait for the call that they arrived. Meanwhile, again, just trying to survive with contacts. My eyes hate me. Have you ever slept in contacts for a week?

Well, today I got the call. Finally, new glasses! Which the lady assures me are indestructible. My eyes are aching and I'm desperate for the specs. What to do, what to do. So I decide, what's the worst that could happen? I'm loading up these kiddos on my own and we're going to pick up my glasses. We load up the car with no incident. Make the 30 minute drive with no incident. Get everyone out of the car and into the office with only minor incident (mostly because I can't navigate the stroller and got it caught in the door...hint to readers, help people with strollers open doors). Of course the screaming waited until we hit the office. Luckily they rush me out of there (new glasses in hand!) and we head out (again getting caught in the door). It takes about 10 minutes to load everyone in, collapse the stroller, get it in, get everyone pacis, water, snacks, etc. and head home. The screaming continued the entirety of the drive (Helen wanted a "treat" and Patrick hates his carrier...fun times). But the whole drive home I was patting myself on the back. I was wearing my rocking new glasses (which Helen will never touch...grandparents are you listening? Glasses aren't toys!) and we are heading home with no major embarrassment. I felt like I won the Nobel Prize of mothering. Two kids, an errand accomplished, all in under 2 hours. I measure my success much differently than I used to. But it is incredibly rewarding blogging with my toddler-resistant glasses. That's a successful day.

Luxuries

When I was working full-time, my definition of luxury was a little different. I think my favorite luxury item was my collection of purses. I have some good ones. The headliner is this gorgeous cream colored Christian Dior. I love it. I got it in Las Vegas on a shopping trip with Me-Me.

I haven't really seen and/or used my purse collection in 20 months. It doesn't really seem practical to stuff a bunch of diapers, wipes, and Cheerios into that Dior. I had a super cute diaper bag with Helen and the new one my mom got me for two kids is great! But two bags day in and day out over 20 months just isn't the same. I miss the variety. I feel badly for my purses. In bags, up on shelves in my closet, just waiting to get out. Thank goodness Me-Me borrows them from time to time so they can see the world.

My favorite luxury items are a little different these days and a lot more intangible. My favorite thing lately has been a daytime shower. These days I have to take my showers at night, when Helen is asleep and Matt is home to keep an eye on Patrick. But on weekend mornings, Matt takes Helen on a walk with the dog, Patrick is napping, and I get to take a shower in the daylight. And not just in the daylight, but before the day really gets going. I love it. There is just something about taking a shower when the sun is out that feels luxurious to me. Its luxurious when both kids are asleep at the same time and the house is quiet. That's when I catch up on the shows I DVRed. Or take a nap. Its luxurious when Patrick sleeps for 5 hours at night. Its luxurious when the house is clean. My wonderful friends from MOMS Club have been bringing us dinner these last few weeks. That's luxurious too.

From time to time Matt and I go out just the two of us...and its still pretty luxurious to me to bring out one of those great purses for the night. But part of me misses my diaper bag and the little people who go along with it. So I don't think I mind keeping those purses up on shelves for a little while longer.

First Haircut

Helen got her first haircut yesterday. It took her 20 months to get enough hair to cut, but it was finally time. I'm not sure how many other moms of little girls suffer from the "mullet" problem. If you think about it, little girls' hair needs to grow a little longer, but it is going to grow longest at the back before the sides. Hence the mullet.

We took her to a super cute kids place. She got to sit in a cool yellow car and watch an episode of Blues Clues. She got to play with a doll. None of this stopped her from screaming, but it probably helped keep the screaming to a minimum.

I was nervous that she would seem and/or look different after her big girl haircut. Thankfully she looks exactly the same, a little neater, and the mullet is a little less severe. Me-Me even bought her a cool pink headband to accent the new look. She is stylish.

They gave me some of her clippings to keep. Which was a nice touch, but sort of gross. I don't really plan on keeping things that were cut off of Helen...to me that's sort of in line with keeping those belly button stubs. Seriously, people do that.

Old Posts

Some people have asked what happened to the old posts (nearly a year worth!) when we took down the old blog...I'm working on retrieving them and putting them up here. There was some good stuff! :-)

4 weeks--Is the newness wearing off?

I really was pleased with how Helen adjusted to Patrick. Its been 4 weeks since he was born (wow!). We've had no major incidents. Helen had a hard time adjusting the first few weeks because I wasn't able to pick her up (thanks to c-section number 2). But other than that, the worst we've had is how much she wants to cuddle him. She likes to lay on him, pet his head, she always wants him "out." Out of his swing, his carrier, etc. She was never bothered when I nursed him. In fact, I think she was starting to like him.

Until today...

This morning I was holding Patrick and she forcefully said "baby! swing!" I got the distinct impression I was not supposed to hold him anymore and needed to dump him in the swing. A few minutes later I heard "baby! bye-bye!" Hmmm...is she ready to send him back? And then the clincher. I look over and her leg is poised precariously above his leg and wham! She steps on him and yells "stomp!" Thank goodness Patrick was 1) fine and 2) pretty laid back about the whole thing. Maybe 4 weeks was Helen's max for a brother.

Crazy Hour

Every day has at least one hour that I will call the "Crazy Hour." It usually happens after Helen wakes up from her nap. Even before I had Patrick, this hour was insane. Helen is grumpy, usually still a little tired, hungry, thirsty, wet, maybe dirty, you name it. And now let's throw Patrick in the mix. He wakes up and is ready to eat. So that makes for two screaming kiddos.

Today was particularly crazy. Two little ones screaming at the top of their lungs, the phone ringing off the hook, people wanting to stop by, people bringing us dinner. Then of course after his feeding, Patrick had a massive spit up. So throw changing clothes (his and mine), cleaning the couch, and not having gotten the chance to pee for an hour into the mix. It made for one crazy hour. Oh and Helen was standing in the dog's water bowl while I was bathing Patrick. I guess she decided she wanted a bath too.

People have been having two kids for, well, eternity. And I suppose before birth control a lot of them came much closer than 19 months apart. Holy expletive!! How did people do it?!?! Especially with no swing and no Backyardigans DVDs?? How did they do it without Coke? Because I am about to go have my third of the day.

Laugh or Cry?

There are countless things everyday that cause me to pose that question...should I laugh or cry about this? 99% of the time I laugh. What other choice do you have? Otherwise, I would be crying the day away, never get anything done, and wouldn't have anything to blog about.

Today was a perfect example. Patrick was napping, Helen was playing, and I was catching up on email. I look over at Helen and she has somehow taken off ALL of her clothes AND her diaper. I'm actually pretty impressed, because while I've seen her lose the diaper, I've never seen her get all of her clothes off. So while I'm marveling at her ingenuity, I take a closer look at the situation and she's actually taken it all off so she can poop on the floor. Super duper. And its a walking poop, so she's left a sort of trail from the kitchen to the den. I'm staring at all of this taking place and finally my jaw slams shut and my brain and body kick into action...I realize that I should probably take control of the situation. Well, Helen either thinks she's in trouble or thinks its a game, because she takes off running. Straight through the pile of laundry that I've laid on the floor to fold. In case you need it spelled out for you, this now means I have a poopy batch of clean laundry. I grab Helen and just put her in the empty bathtub so I can go tackle the laundry and floor situations. But much to my delight the dog ate it all while I was dealing with Helen. ICK! So now I'm on dog vomit watch.

But all in all, even after rewashing clothes, washing a child, and washing the floor, I still think that's a pretty funny situation. Although after reading what's been happening to my floor lately, what with the poop and the bubbles, I'm thinking Stanley Steemer could make a pretty good living off us. So my vote is to always laugh, it makes for a much better day in the end. Poop and all.

Power Play

A power play occurs when one hockey team has a "numerical advantage on the ice." In other words, one team has more players on the ice than the other. If during the last hour these two kiddos haven't had a numerical advantage...well, then I don't know what it means to be on a power play.

First of all, Patrick had a MAJOR spit up. Like the kind that projects. The kind that looks like a whole feeding just came back. The nasty kind. The kind that doesn't just require him to change clothes, it also requires me to change clothes. It requires a bath. For two people. Unfortunately one of those people doesn't have time for a bath because of the said power play.

During this major spit up incident, I threw Helen in the backyard. To 1) get her out of the spit up vicinity and 2) allow time for the bath and two person clothing change. While in the backyard, Helen sits in a puddle, finds a bottle of bubbles (a crazy person must have left them outside where any 19 month old could find them...obviously that crazy person has been too busy blogging), brings them inside and opens them up. During this whole outdoor escapade, I was chasing Helen around, indoors and outdoors, in my tank top and underwear. I'm so glad my neighbors both have two stories houses. I'm sure I put on quite a show.

So now what was a two-person, one-bath afternoon has turned into a three-person clothing change and two-person bath operation. Oh and there is a lot of floor to clean up. What with the spit up and the bubbles. And Helen was wearing a diaper that is so soggy, it looked like she had a tail.

During Helen's bath, she poured water all over me. This required a second-costume change for me. Turning this into a four-clothes change day.

So now an hour later, we've got two kids bathed, four new outfits, and one semi-clean floor. I cannot lie, I let the dog clean up the spit up and only did some minor subsequent retouching. I just spotted some more bubbles in the kitchen floor. Oh, great and now Helen has opened the trash and found the bubble bottle. She is putting the bubble wand in her mouth. I better get back on the ice...

The week in perspective...

Its Day Five of being alone with two kids and I suppose its time for a report.

For the first two weeks I was home from the hospital, I couldn't drive or pick up Helen (thanks to that second c-section). So thank goodness we had Aunt Meg, or Me-Me (pronounced May-May), as she is known around here, taking care of all three of us. And in the evenings taking care of all four of us!

So, since Monday, its been just me and the kiddos. That's right I'm outnumbered. By a whole other human. And its a close race on which one is best taking advantage of this power play situation. I can't lie, it hasn't been too bad. Well, not as bad as I thought, at least. Okay, well to be really, really fair, I haven't been by myself all that much. We saw Me-Me on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. But thinking back to my life as a one-child parent, I saw Me-Me almost everyday then too.

On Thursday I decided to brave my first outing with the two little ones. I thought to myself...what adventurous place should we go? Its our first outing...let's make it someplace good. So, we went to Babies 'R' Us to buy diapers. My life is exciting. So exciting in fact, that I almost stole some bottles. Let me paint you a picture...Two babies, one cart. Helen earned a spot riding in the "seated section" of the cart, so Patrick, in his carrier, just rode in the "cargo section." This arrangement left little to no room for purchases. But all I really needed was diapers, formula, and bottles. So I stacked things on the bottom and around Patrick's carrier. We got to the check-out where I unloaded all my stuff, paid for it, and started to walk out, when the clerk pointed at my cart and said "did you want to get those bottles too?" You know, the bottles, I had stuck in Patrick's carrer...oh well, luckily I was able to pay for them and avoid committing a crime on outing number one. Just a note, I can't lie that should I have actually stolen the bottles, I would have been hard-pressed to rectify the situation. I imagine I would have discovered my thievery only upon putting the kids in the car. It would have taken all my will-power to load them back into that cart to go back in the store and pay for the bottles.

All in all, its been a good five days. But upon reflection, I do wonder how long it will take them to team up on me. They are only getting bigger and smarter...pretty soon they will probably form some type of NATO-like organization, ready to com to one another's aide, and attack the common enemy...