Vya Con Dios

In an homage to what has most definitely been the shittiest month of the year so far, I give you pics from our "Don't Let the Door Kick You in the Ass" day. Enjoy.


Kiss it baby, kiss it. Yes, she did pick the outfit, and yes, she did wear it to gymnastics. AND YES, she was FABULOUS! (and yes, I do pimp her out on the side from time to time.)



"Catch ya on the back side, bro."

"If I could JUST get my tongue out a tad bit further, maybe I could cut these damn apron strings... That, or snip a finger. Whatever."





In finale, Jax said his first official word this weekend: "Bye!"

SUPER MONDO WAY BIG IM-POR-TANT-O

I copied this letter from Mindy's site, in an effort to help spread the word, and also as some sort of attempt at safeguarding myself from landing in the Big House one day, 'cause whoa nellie, I would kill --KILL-- if either of my babies were victims of these FREAKS.



Dear Bloggers,

NBC would like your help in raising awareness about the dangers to children on the Internet. On Friday, Feb. 3 at 9 p.m., NBC will broadcast part 3 in a Dateline investigative series called "To Catch A Predator."

Earlier this month Dateline wired a house with hidden cameras and watched as members of an Internet watchdog group, Perverted Justice, pretend to be 12 to 13 year old children chatting online. Within hours, adults solicited the undercover operatives for sex. Some sent graphic sexual images to what they believed were minors. Soon, many of those same men actually show up at the house for a rendezvous with the child. In just three days, this hidden camera investigation exposed 51 men, giving viewers a frightening glimpse at how widespread this problem is.

NBC is also adding an interactive element to this broadcast. Dateline correspondent Chris Hansen will participate in a live blog during the show, offering anecdotes, behind-the-scenes information and answers to viewer questions. In addition to the live blog, NBC has prepared an information page that including online safety tips, links and an Internet safety contract for parents and kids (go here and scroll to the bottom).

If your blog's subject matter is in any way related to technology, family or the Internet, NBC would like to encourage you to start a conversation with your readers about the dangers of the Internet for children. Please don't feel obligated to promote Dateline. All we ask is that you help raise awareness around this issue. And if you have any comments you think NBC or other viewers will find useful, please participate in the live on-air blog.

Thank you.
Jon Accarino jonathan.accarrino@nbc.com

I'd also like to go one step further and let you know that I have actually been watching this series, and the scariest part of all is what many of these "men" do for a living: teachers, clergy men (all faiths), prominent business men, etc.

And while we're on the subject, let's not limit our awareness to the internet only. As a volunteer at our church's nursery, I was required to attend a workshop focused on knowing the tell-tale signs of child predators, safety techniques, etc. There were a couple of people on the video they showed who told their stories of being former child predators, how they manipulated the kids, and so on. Being the skeptic I am, I was assuming these people were actors. Not so, my friends. I saw one of the "reformed predators" that was featured on the video in church the very next Sunday. Talk about an eye-opener.

New Developments From the World of Poor Mothering

Overheard today in the car --

Ryan: (looking at scratch on her arm) "I really hate this fucking boo-boo." Sweet



Jax has finally rid himself of the cursed ROTOVIRUS (duhduhDUHHHH!!! That's for all my wussy friends who opted NOT to come in this weekend because they were scared of my kids. I've told them all about you. And trust me, you didn't come off as "good". *wink*). How do I know? He has beautiful mushy, not-at-all-runny poo. Hooray for Poo!!!!

MOTY Tip: When struggling to get a seperation-anxiety ridden baby back to sleep at 4 in the morning, let him cry it out for about an hour, or until the cries re-awaken you. Then, when you go to him to give him his binky, he'll be so worn out from screaming, he'll pass right out.

You Gotta Have Friends

Right, so I'd first just like to thank those of you who commented, sent emails, called, or just said a little prayer for our family this week. All of it was very much appreciated, and it's so nice to see how truly rich we are.

I've been thinking about friends a lot lately, especially since 2006 has thus far brought us severe illness, broken bones, and a lot of sleepless nights. I would like to let a few of the people who have truly sacrificed for us this year in all of our trials know hoe much they are appreciated -- My Mom, Ninny, and Elisa, to be specific. (A little too Chicken Soup for ya? I understand, but bear with me -- or just scroll down for the funny.)

So obviously we have a life filled with people ready and willing to help us at a moment's notice, but those 3, due to proximity or not, have truly been lifesavers for all of us, especially this past month.

When I was growing up, my Mom had a best friend who lived across the street (Mrs. P). They love each other; time and distance have yet to keep them too far apart, and they truly have been each other's rocks. My mom always assured me that I would find my own "Mrs P" when I had kids and a home of my own, but until just recently, I wasn't quite so sure.

I'm a tad, how do you say -- abnormal? And while I personally think all of my quirks are FABULOUS, other Moms think, "not so much". When Elisa moved in almost 2 years ago!, I thought, "Wow. She's gorgeous, holy, and SO out of my league." Plus, her kids are a few years older than mine, so while I figured we'd get along well, I didn't really think we'd be best buds.

Turns out, when you mix a broken foot with Christmas Break and two needy kids, wonderful things CAN happen. She quite literally became my right hand (or should I say foot?), DEMANDING I let her help me out, despite all of my stubborn, independent tendencies otherwise. Slowly but surely, our friendship had culminated to this point, and I now consider her to truly be one of my closest confidants. I am so grateful that she moved in, so grateful that she is who she is, and sooo grateful that she thinks I'm pretty okay, too. While I hate to jump to conclusions (and learned my lesson long ago regarding fast friends), I feel that whether or not she really becomes my "Mrs. P", she has become my "Miss E", and that's more than enough.

I know they say that you shouldn't try to be friends with your kids, and I completely get it, but I'm so glad that that rule vanishes when you grow up, because I wouldn't thrive without my Mom as a friend, and not just my mama. I would have no clue how to be the greatest MOTY ever (shut it) without her knowledge, I would not still be teetering on the safe side of sanity without her support, and I may not even have the excellent marriage I have without her advice. Most importantly, I wouldn't have someone I would absolutely be certain would drop everything and drive 90 minutes to be at my side, emergency room or not. She takes care of my kids better than I ever could, and while many women out there tend to become extra-possessive when it comes to their kids and their own mothers, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that everytime I let my Mom step in and help out (read: take over), it is 100% in the best interest of my kiddos, helping me to be a better Mom, and giving all of us a bond we have never experienced. A long time ago, I "honored" her by bringing her to a luncheon spotlighting our favorte teacher, and to this day she still holds that title.

And of course, what would a happy blissful parenthood be without a nanny -- I mean, Ninny?!?
The girl loves those kids as her own, and they adore her. She, too, is more than willing to leave everything to be with them, sacrificing what little free time she has to help out. She loves my husband like a brother, and he loves her like a sister. She has become so much more than my sister -- she is my friend, one I would have chosen whether we were related or not, and I admire her beyond words. (See Mom, we told you we'd get along when we grew up!)

I totally realize that my writing falls short of properly honoring these 3 women and doesn't even come close to saying what is in my heart, but it's the best I can do, so they'll just have to live with it.

The Funny

Damn you Disney, and your let's- get- married, happily-ever-after endings. Not that I have anything against the sanctity of marriage, I'm just a tad concerned with my 3 year-old's obssession with said institution.

When I find myself reassuring her that someone will want to marry her (after listening to her lament otherwise for a good 20 minutes), when I have to steer her away from the weddding cakes at the local bakery, when I hear her in the playroom reciting the entire wedding ceremony, from the Wedding March to the "Man and Wife", it's hard to think the whole thing hasn't gone too far.

The best part is that now she insists she is going to marry Harry Potter, even after we relentlessy try to convince her that he is not an actual real person. Her disbelief may actually be our doing, seeing as how one night in Chili's we saw a young boy who was quite literally Harry's spitting image, convinced her that it was HIM, and then had a server ask him if he would play along and shake her hand, sign an autograph, etc. (It got so bad that he eventually began hiding behind his menu, in a desperate attempt to escape her fixated stare. Poor thing.) I never thought it would go so far as marriage, though. It's a long, long road we have ahead of us people. A long, long road.

On a somewhat lighter note, Jax no longer looks like Viktor Yushchenko's long lost son.

The Road Goes On Forever And The Party Never Ends

The world stopped turning today.

Around lunchtime, Jax, in a coma-like listless state, began struggling to breathe.

I literally threw Ryan in the car, held Jax in my arms, and raced down the street to the ER, where he was diagnosed with severe dehydration.

Shawn made it there from work in record time, Ninny rescued a growing-sicker-by-the-second Ryan from the Halls of Hospital Hell, and now Menana is spending the night here with Ninny to help out so I don't completely lose my mind, while Shawn dysinfects everything. We now own stock in Lysol.

I realize my tendancy to trivialize things may make all of this seem like a mere blip in our day, but please know that our world truly came to a stand-still during those 6 hours, and we were extremely fortunate to have a happy outcome.

All I could think of while I sat there watching his gray little polka-dotted body and sunken eyes was about the thousands of parents who do this day in and day out with kids much much worse off than my own.

While you're saying a prayer for my babies tonight (and I KNOW you will be!), please include these families in your thoughts as well.

Okay, Now They're Just Makin' Shit Up...

Woke up this morning to find Jax had blossomed lots and lots of brand new bigger better redder spots all over his entire body, head-to-toe, even on his lips. Naturally, we called the "Doctor", and rushed over for an emergency appointment. Their assessment?

"The Amoxicillin 10-day Rash". Uh huh. Okay.
Doesn't mean he's necessarily allergic? Uh huh. Okay.
The vomit? Probably just a stomach virus on top of the ear infection/"10-Day" rash-thing. Uh huh. Okay.
Ear Infection? Alive and kicking. Uh huh. Okay.
Other ear that he's been pulling on the past 3 days? Not infected whatsoever. Uh huh. Okay.
New antibiotics? Yep. Uh huh. Okay.

...Don't think we didn't call them on the "10-Day Rash" bit, either. You're not gonna get off so easily when our kid looks like this:



P.S. God -- whatever I did to piss you off, I'm really really monumentally really really sorry. I've said my Hail Mary's and my Our Father's -- now can we call a truce?

Pride Goeth Before The Fall

This parenting thing sucks. I mean, you'd think I'd be a pro at this baby stuff, yes?

Example:
Jax takes antibiotics, we give cultured bacteria to beat away the diarrhea. Everyone lives happily ever after. Right?

"Ha", says God, who then proceeds to shit and vomit on my perfect parent plans, and now I feel like a failure.

Apparently Jaxson is allergic to Amoxicillin, but chose to demonstrate said fact until now. The "secret weapon" we oh-so-smartly ran out and purchased without consulting any medical expert of any kind(being old pros at the whole antibiotics thing, courtesy of Ry and her 10 ear infections before the age of 1) has left him with a heinous rash. He's puked 3 times today, yet only began his fun little experiment in projectile vomitting AFTER I'd called my Mom this morning to gloat about how great the kids were feeling this morning, blahbiddyblah blah stupid ass blah.

Yep, that sounds about right.

Thank God I was able to reach the pediatrician's office, because I don't know what we would have done if the OTHER doctor's nurse (who has never seen Jax, btw) hadn't told us to stop all medications pronto. What would we morons do without the aide of their illuminating genius???

And while we're at it, Thank God for Ninny who graciously came over to tell us,"Wow, did you know he has a really bad rash?" Frernemenfrearnemenen...

Meanwhile, I've got RYAN who has now been kept inside the house the past 3 days totally against her will, biting at the bit, forcing me to pull creative fun-at-home ideas out of my ass, like this one, and this here. Lucky for her I have the mentality of an 8 year old, and completely enjoyed myself when I wasn't scrubbing puke off the carpet, wiping diarrhea off of Jax, or smearing diaper cream an inch thick onto his flaming-red rear end.

Don't think I'm feeling sorry for myself, either. I LOVE this shit - I live for days like this, man. Any excuse to stay unshowered, in pj's for 2 straight days is a godsend for me. I'm not even insulted that Shawn refuses to come within 5 feet of me because of the smell. I love when I repulse my hubby. Can't get enough of it. Bring it on, baby. BRING. IT. ON.

**Side Note: God does fall for that whole reverse-psychology bullshit, right?**

Same story, different day

Where do I start? We got Jax's fever on Thursday under control, which was great because it made room for the Explosive Diarrhea on Saturday. And yes, the capitalization is very appropriate.

Fever or no, Mommy needed a haircut so we all piled in the car to take Ry to the Y for babysitting, only to find that Mommy had once again been caught with her head up her ass, trying to drop her kid off at 2pm, when the Kids Gym doesn't ever open until 4. Whatever. We all piled back into the car and headed over to the salon, accompanied by many apologies to both Ryan and my hairdresser. Luckily, he is wonderful, gave Ryan her first PROFESSIONAL haircut (see pics here), and we left with Ryan having only spilled one cup of water on the receptionist desk -- all in all, a very good outing.

Friday morning began like a breeze -- kids up & happy, then off to the Y to lift some weights and meet with my trainer. However, he told me doesn't want me to start doing ANY exercise for 3 more weeks, so although I would normally jump at the opportunity to slotherize myself, I have already been doing so for the past month and am ready to get moving. I felt better about it, though, after I went to the store and bought chocolate ice cream, oreo cookies, and cheesecake. What?!? I'm having company this weekend...

After that, we pretty much hung out at home for the remainder of Friday, which wasn't that much fun for Ryan, judging by the previously posted Evil Picture she created while cooped inside the house all day.

I then proceeded to stay up until 3 am trying to get something - anything - done on Shawn's computer, which has become quite the trying task. Linksys has essentially ruined my life. I can't connect to half the websites I need to, and the other ones take 5 minutes to load a single page. So, taxes and iPod filling are out, as well as uploading pics. Swell.

Saturday morning kicked me in the teeth when I hurriedly jostled the kids out of the house by 7:30am (HELLO -- we don't usually come downstairs until 7:30!!). Coupled with a last minute bout of flying poo and my all-nighter, this was an excruciating task. All was quickly made better, though; we arrived (ON TIME) at Ryan's first basketball game, only to find that she was playing soccer instead. Don't ask.

Either way, the kid ROCKED -- kicking the ball like a champ, hustling down to the other team's goal... just not at the same time. However, she did make the most and best goal attempts of any kid on her team, which is not saying much, seeing as how the majority of her team was up in the stands with the parents. She only paused once for a Princess-inspired song, when she was sent to the bench in order to give the other 2 playing teammates a chance. It was a very Grease-like moment; a real cross between Sandy's lamenting ballad at the drag race and Rizzo's sad pity-me-and- my- quasi-whorish -ways song. At one point, she even put her head in her hand, turned toward the wall, and slowly laid down on the bench, then burst back up, hands and head towards the heavens in some sort of finale. Soooo worth the 8 am call time.

The rest of the morning was spent driving to an fro, then sleeping in the car, as the kids had fallen asleep, we were early for our movie date with our friends, and Mommy's not as young as she used to be (read:bone-tired). I'm certain the mall-goers had fun with that one. Anyway, we got to the movie(Hoodwinked, if you must know), and that's when Jax's Explosive Diarrhea really reared it's ugly - head? rear? - 3 times. Needless to say, I quite literally spent the entire movie either in the bathroom or on the way to the bathroom, and finally enlisted the help of Ninny who came to pick up Jax and take him home so Ryan andI could stay and enjoy the rest of the movie. Ryan was very grateful, seeing as how the moment I sat down after sending Jax off, she announced she had to go potty again ( this would make the 4th time). I'm not at all sure what the movie was about, though judging by Andy Dick's performance as a seemingly homosexual evil rabbit (the only part I actually saw), I'm sure it was quite smashing.

The trip to the mall wasn't entirely wasted -- I did pick up some great deals at Bath and Body Works' clearance sale (poo-covered jeans are no match for Amy's desire to get stuff cheap).

That evening, I was sooo looking forward to an early night, and sure enough Ryan and I were tucked away and sleeping by 8:30pm... and then we were up again at 3:30am when she awoke ON FIRE. Seriously, the kid had a 102 degree fever. So we dealt with that all night, and this morning, and this afternoon, and this evening... She says she's feeling better now, which is good, 'cause we're almost out of meds. I even made an emergency trip to the store this morning to get more meds, as well as that trusty lactobacillus stuff we used to have a never-ending supply of when Ry was a baby and permanently on antibioics.

Shawn just went to work out at the gym, Ry is watching Elf and playing evil Princesses/Barbies, Jax is crawling around here somewhere, and I'm post-poning making dinner.

Finally, things are back to normal.

P.S. Congrats on the pregnancy, Chaika!!!

Listy listy list list list

When you see me at my daughter's 8 am basketball game tomorrow with bloodshot eyes, you'll know it's because I stayed up all night to get everything done that I've needed to do on the computer the past two days.

Shawn installed wireless on New Years' Eve (which ended up completely ruining his night, btw -- the cable jack he wanted to use was dead; You'da thought his dog died), so now our pc isn't working right, and I'm having to wait till he gets home to get online.

Thy name is Technology; I am your bitch.

Best part? There has been an unusually large amount of material that I've had to save till now -- I'm just gonna list 'em for ya. If you want me to elaborate on a list item, leave a comment; I've still got to download music, do our taxes, and shop online.

Anyway, here it is:
1. Ryan's 1st fancy-schmancy hair-cut.

2. The pest company has it out for us.

3. My trainer wants to train me for a triathalon.

4. Feverish Jax = devilish Jax.

5. Ryan may very well be the next Picasso. That, or she needs counseling.

Painfully painful

Ryan (seeing Mommy's new chunky beaded necklace hung over the gilded mirror above our bed): "Who put that there?"

Mommy: "Me."

Ryan: "Why?"

Mommy: "I thought maybe it would look cool there."

Ryan: "Or maybe not."

Mommy: (mumbling as I sheepishly remove "decor")

Happy now, Mom??

Right, so when I was very very little, I wasn't the greatest of kids. I was soooo that annoying Nellie bitch from Little House on the Prairie warmed over.

I cut Lea Ann's hair, fingered her as the culprit, and got to go to Hanna-Barbera Land for a day of care-free fun. I convinced her to let me throw her into the coffee table so we could get our Mom to let us go with her and Jenny to a one-yr-old's birthday party. (We were like 6 and 4). I held her hand with a red crayon in its grasp and moved it all along the wall, then went and told my mom that Lea did it. I showed my woohoo to one of the neighbor boys (but ONLY cause he showed me his), then claimed it was the other little girl who was there. Although I completely realized that I was totally in the wrong for my evil doings, part of me always felt that my Mom and all of my victims were somewhat to blame -- how gullible can you be?

Regardless, I've suffered greatly for my sins (have I mentioned the coat of guilt I sport on a daily basis?), but today may have been the biggest punishment yet.

You see, my worst crime of all as a child was to listen under the door as my sisters got spanked, laughing gleefully. I was a twisted, demented little shit I admit, but oh, OH! how the mighty have fallen!!

We were at the Y today, picking up Ryan from babysitting when I see these 3 hoods crowding around my sweet little baby. She, of course, was sitting in a chair, smiling wickedly as they gathered around, seemingly trying to provoke some sort of reaction. Feeling confident in her ability to take on these 3 weenies (please -- two of them were twins dressed in the most ridiculous head-to-toe "Incredibles" outfits I have ever seen), I just kinda hung back and watched.

Just as they got the confidence to get within striking distance, Ryan lashed out at them and the three weenies scattered.

Apparently she caught up to them (again, not surprising), because a minute later we hear her crying real tears. She comes running up to us, claiming one of the "Incredibles" twins kicked her in the chest. As I am trying to get all the info, so as to sort out which retarded "Incredibles" twin needs the ass-kicking, one of the caregivers overhears us and begins rounding up the thugs.

That's when my punishment officially began.

While he was scolding the boys, Ryan crept behind his back and began flashing the trio, sticking out her tongue and wiggling her butt; clearly enjoying watching the boys squirm.

Suddenly, the next 14 years of my life became horrifyingly clear to me: they will be spent in countless principal's offices, classmates' homes & police headquarters, hat in hand, begging forgiveness for my child all the while trying not to laugh.

Karma blows.

Not doin' Gerber ANY favors

Fot those of you looking for baby/Jaxson/poop stories, here's a fun tidbit:

Gerber's Stage 3 Spaghetti with Meat Sauce produces the most foul fecal matter in my son. He took a dump this morning that set me back at least 2 months. At least.

Thought you'd like to know.

Glutton for punishment...

Okay, so I just realized that I've had this other blog hangin' around for a few weeks and I haven't mentioned anything about it. To anyone. I figured some of you would find it through my profile, and I just wanted a place to write about non-kid related stuff without feeling guilty towards my mom or inlaws. I've got a rep to protect and a duty to my elders. haaaaaaaaaaa.

Anyway, I was just saying something about it to Shawn and he was all:

"What other blog"?

And I'm all: "My other blog"

And he's all: " You never told me you had another blog."

And I'm all: "Oh... yeah. Well I started another blog a while back."

And he's all: "Okay."

So anyway. Check it out if you feel like getting a double dose of the crazy.

The Devil Made Me Do It

It seems the narcissistic world of all things blog-related has sucked Lea Ann into it's evil realm. She has recently created her very own myspace page here. Go check it out, then be sure to come back and tell me how much better mine is than hers!! Mwhaaahaaahaaahaaa.

Huh??

Okay, so last night at around 12:30 we heard Ryan get up and go to the bathroom, accompanied by many weird clattering sounds that didn't sound dangerous, and so were not onerous enough for us to leave the comfort of the bed to investigate.

This morning, when we went to brush teeth, comb hair, etc., this is what we found:

According to Ryan, the antique tin I use to hold their "decorative display" of towels (shut up) is actually the Barbies' car, and they are all sisters.

You see, we started with one barbie toothbrush, added the toothpaste, then this weekend I found Ryan mock-cleaning the stairs with Barbie #1 (in what can only be considered a frightening moment of vicarious dejavu), so we purchased a new Barbie (#2). Insta-family, 2006.

She insists they must all 3 be together at the same time, same place, and apparently last night they needed to take an urgent trip...somewhere.

My questions is, should I laugh and just be tickled pink, or would this be considered a serious cry for help?

Anyone?Anyone? Bueller??

The One Where I Lament. Again.

Jax has begun walking with his toy stride'n ride car. Obviously, I use the term walking loosely; nevertheless, he's become increasingly mobile, forcing our hand with the whole baby gate thing. The worst part of these gates isn't the fact that my son clearly feels he's being incarcerated, seeing as how everytime I shut the damn thing, he starts wailing; rather, it's actually the fact that I'm completely pissed about this monstrously hideous obstruction that's destroying the ambience of my otherwise gentle, welcoming home. I've worked my ass off to achieve this "lived-in" feel. What good is a cluttered, messy home if you can't see it without having to peer through bars?

He' also got an ear infection -- let's hear it for making it 9 months!! Unfortunately, he is about to be introduced to the wonderful world of antiobiotics. WooHoo! We had NO IDEA that he was sick, by the way. He has been snotty for, oh, let's say the past 4 months, accompanied by coughing and ear pulling. Everytime we brought him in, we were told he was fine, ears clear as can be -except for that whole RSV nonsense. Anyway, we are now searching our memories for some outstanding clues we should have caught, but it looks like we're just dealing with one of those blessed, blessed (though a touch scary) kids who never really act sick. He's a tough one, that's for sure...

Meanwhile,Ryan has been pretty well-behaved these last few days. I guess taking an Abuela to the face does that to a normally hyper-active almost-four-year-old. Speaking of which, OMIGAAH, to my dismay I have suddenly realized that my baby girl is no longer a baby. I can no longer chalk her naughtiness up to "a phase" -- pretty soon, it's going to be an actual personality trait (as if it isn't already). I suppose this means I have to start being a real Mom now -- no more swearing, no more egging her on, no more fun for me whatsoever. I would be bored by this predicament if I weren't scared shitless.

For the love of Pete, where has the time gone?

Ryan will be in kindergarten in a year-and-a-half; she's practically a teenager. Plus, now that Jax is more or less walking he may as well be shopping for a contract in the majors.

How long after having the baby does the "baby weight" I gained cease to be "baby weight", becoming merely my "new fat ass and droopy boobies"? Just wondering.

I'll be 29 in March. Need I elaborate?

You should see the other guy...

That's right. Ryan got her first shiner AND her first bloody nose all in the same week. That's how we play here at Casa del York. If you can't hang, don't bother stoppin' by.

When Good Princesses Go Bad

So here's how the day began:

Ry: "Mom, Sleeping Beauty's lyyyiiiinnng!"
Me: "mmbbbgg,bbggftjhfffpht" (shuffling/hobbling to coffee maker)
Ry: "MOM!"
Me: *big fat Mom-sigh* "What's she lying about?"
Ry: "Well, she ripped Snow White's face off and now she's lying about it."
Me: "uuuggghhhh" *crawling back to bed*
Ry: "MOM! Tell her not to lie. Say, 'We don't lie, Sleeping Beauty! Say it!!"

In related news, I plan on asking the doctor for a new, larger supply of painkillers when I go for my foot tomorrow. Just so ya know...

My Goddamned Basket

Yeah, I was THIS close to dropping the freakin' thing today. Between trying to harmoniously meld my 21st century "Dennis the Menace" with 3 of the most sensitive (though wonderfully sweet) kids into something other than a big ole bowl of pestilential broth, avoiding strangling Ryan when I realized she had filled her kitchen drawers with "ingredients" (read:pebbles from backyard), and trying to keep Jax-the -incredible-almost-walking baby from climbing the stairs, I should definitely receive multiple MOTY points. Not to mention the fact that I barely made it through preparing our practically-ready-made meal of frozen fish fillets, minute brown rice, and frozen spinach, due to the fact that all had to be prepared while "in character" -- we were playing sleeping beauty/snow white, natch. Nothing like juggling two pots of boiling water with one kitchen timer and the job of Evil Witch/Fairy Godmother.

BTW, I'd like to thank Nextel and their ad company for introducing my 3 yr old to dirrrty dancing. I can't get her to quit gyrating like the guy on the commercial, no matter how loud Jax chimes in.

Also? I'm nursing a big booboo, seeing as how we didn't get chosen as a finalist in any of the Best of Blogs awards categories. I really shouldn't be surprised, seeing as how I had to nominate my damn self, under the alias of my good-for-nothing -sisters who are dead to me now. Did you hear me? DEAD!! D-E-D.

Apparently, I'm not entertaining/intelligent/desperate enough to get a shout out. You should all be as offended as I am, and are welcome to join me in this evening's pity party. I'll be here, drowning my sorrows in wine, chocolate, and frozen yogurt. I'm sad, not stupid -- calories, calories! And just for the record, doctors around the world are now insisting (insisting, I say!) that we drink more red wine and eat more dark chocolate. Who am I to argue??

Anyway, the blogs who did reach FINALIST STATUS are pretty damn good**. Go one over and give 'em a read.
**I'm not really this nice, it's all about the karma.

Apple Falling a Little Too Close to the Tree

There's no doubt that Ryan is a smart one. That said, there are still some things that I know more about than her, like how many calories are in the bottle of Shiraz I'm about to consume, how many weeks are safe to go without getting your period, and the Internet (though this last one will surely change by the time she gets to 1st grade).

The following conversation occured just minutes ago as I was looking at this blog:

Ry: "Mom, is that a picture of me?" (pointing to pic of darling little girl)
Me: "No, baby. That's another little girl."
Ry: " Mom! WHY! ARE! YOU! PUTTING! PICTURES!OF! OTHER! LITTLE! GIRLS! ON! YOUR! COMPUTER!?!"

Yes, I may be smarter than her now, but clearly she is light years ahead of me in the drastically jealous/possessive department. I didn't hit that stage until I was at least 17.

P.S. Jilly, Lisa and Suz -- congrats! You 3 are my new best friends! The rest of you??? BITE ME. Happy De-lurking Week!!

National De-Lurking Week

For the love of Christ, leave a freakin' comment. It's What Jesus
Would Do. Trust me. We're tight. No, really. He's totally forgiven me for calling Ryan a bitch. To her face. What?!? I apologized...

A House Divided

We've had a lo(oooo)ng weekend with Shawn at home, due to his previously scheduled, now canceled vasectomy. We decided to spend Saturday morning Daddy-Daughter/Mommy-Son style. Here's how it turned out...

OPHIDIOPHOBIA, n : abnormal fear of snakes

OPHIDIOPHOBE, n: One who fears snakes; see Jenny (aka:Ninny).

ASSHOLISH, v: The act of doing somehing mean just to, you know, be mean.

ASSHOLIO, n: One who performs act of doing something mean just to, you know, be mean; see Shawn and Ryan (although I firmly believe Ry was working under duress).



Yep. Ninny's apartment, fake snake, planted by you-know-who.


Meanwhile, Jax had to suffer through Mommy's once-a-month spurt of "creativity":

The Corner of Pay and Back

I fear I may have once again screwed the proverbial pooch, this time concerning the nursery staff at the YMCA.

Here's the backstory: When Jax was about 2 months old, we used our Family Friday privileges at the Y, leaving the kids there for the evening, the first time we'd done so since Jaxson was born. So there we are, all kicked-back in the movie theatre, enjoying the undeniable chemistry between Brad and Angelina, when my phone goes off. They wanted to inform me that Ryan had had an accident, and could we please come get her?? She'd been there 45 minutes. Not a problem, I'd replied, I packed an extra set of clothes in her backpack, just for this exact emergency -- would they be so sweet as to change her and for the love of Christ let me watch my damn movie? No dice, they replied; health codes and all that nonsense. As I'm finishing this call, Shawn exits the theatre, listening intently to his phone, then handing it to me so I could hear the message. This time it was the nursery letting us know that our 8-week-old was demanding to be held in the way that 8-week-olds are known to do. As the message is ending, my phone starts vibrating, the nursery having given up on reaching Shawn and turning to me in a frantic state, requesting we come pick up our son because he sure is crying a lot and they are tired of dealing with it. When I head into the Y, my heart sinks as I see Ryan sitting forlorn and alone while the rest of the kids are corralled aaaaaallllll the way over on the other side of the playscape area, in an all-too-obvious effort to ensure no other children catch the pee-pee bug. So I rush-walk to Ry, trying not to make her feel any worse or stand out any more than she already does, helping her into her new outfit in the bathroom, wiping her tears, cursing the fuckers who made her feel like a freak for having an accident. When I finally enter the nursery to retrieve Jaxson, I scan the room, bracing myself to find a screaming, crying mess of a baby. Funny thing about those fussy babies, you usually find them in some state of tantrum, but not my fussy baby. When I finally do see him, he's fast asleep. Strapped in his car seat. Meanwhile, every single other baby in the place is wailing. Not quite sure how to react, I merely walk over to him, not saying a word when, out of nowhere, Bitchy McBitcherson accosts me, assuring me Jax has just now quieted down and stopped crying, and they "really are not equipped" to watch babies who are as needy as my son appears to be(because we all know what a pain in the ass sleeping babies are). I look at her, turn away, and walk out, running into another mother arriving to pick up her baby, having been pulled out of the exact same movie at the exact same theatre. When we gathered outside with our ostracized children, she informed me that McBitcherson was always pulling this crap -- her's was also A-OK when she arrived, although they had also assured her that he had been as frantic as Jax. Having seen Bitchy act horribly to other parents in the past, with no sense of discretion or tact whatsoever, I decided I'd had enough, and left a comment card alerting them to the fact. To make a long story longer, I told them I really didn't mind coming to get my kids, but that I was soooo over the 'tude, and if she didn't ease up, I'd do something drastic. I didn't see Bitchy again for at least 2 months, when I again brought Jax for Family Friday and was gingerly approached by the director asking if I would be okay with McBitcherson watching Jax. I insisted my only beef was with her attitude, and as long as she was cool, I was cool. As I locked the evil eye on Bitchy, handing Jaxson over, she wanted to know if everything was ok now; I said yes, and then she went and pissed me off by saying, "Good! Cause last time you were all *makes crazy lady gestures*, you know?"

Cut to last night when we arrived to pick up the kids and were told by not one, not two, but three different staff members that Jax was awful: crying, gnawing (could he be teething??), just all around fussy. I guess I've scared the shit out of these people because I never once got a phone call, and by the frazzled looks of the staff, they were all itching to dial. What really sucked was there was no joy in it all for me, because the staff member I LOVE was on duty (no Bitchy in sight), leaving waves of guilt washing over me, rendering me useless against apology-speckled diarrhea of the mouth. Shawn finally just shoved me out the door as they were turning out the lights.

Luckily, our arrival home quickly healed the Stigmata wounds I was sporting, as we turned around to see Ryan gazing out the window, Jax passed out, both of them holding hands across the backseat of the car.

I don't know whose kids those babysitters were referring to; our children are ANGELS.

MOTY Alert

While lamenting over my horrible terrible awful injury, I feel I may have neglected my Mommy Blogging duties, ie: writing about, um, the kids and stuff. This infraction must certainly be worth oh-so-multiple MOTY points, so in a Hail Mary attempt to redeem my MOTY chances, here are a few new juicy details straight from the lives of Ry & Jax:

1. Ryan now refers to me at all times as "servant", eg: after wiping her butt today (and yes, this was only a FOLLOW-UP wipe; since the Y incident I'm definitely putting my foot down --my left one, that is), she responded in the following snarky manner: "Thank you, servant." This also occurs with every meal served, every shoe tied/buckled, every golden goose delivered, etc...

2. Jaxson has essentially turned into the dictator we all knew he would be. He's now progressed to pointing and yelling. At random intervals, no less. Bobby Knight doesn't even come close. If Big Daddy's family history of heart disease doesn't get Jax in the end, that throbbing vein in his forehead definitely will.

3. By now we are all aware of the phenomenon that is Vince Young and the Longhorns, but none of us so much as Ryan who accepted no less than 4 phone calls yesterday evening between 8pm and 11pm, all of which required her to scream "TEXAS! FIGHT!" at ungodly decibels that surprisingly failed to wake previously mentioned dictator.

4. Shawn forced me to buy Huggies the other day after he insisted the generic Walmart brand cheap-as-shit diapers I purchased last week were unacceptable. Since then Jax has leaked all over my left hip 3 times. Good call, Babe.

5. Sweet Jesus Say A Prayer, Ryan has discovered the wonderful world of kissing boys. She hasn't actually committed said CRIME as of yet, rather, she merely enjoys telling her dad that she has, so as to watch his reaction. Shits and giggles ensue.

6. Now that Jax has officially learned to crawl, I will apparently have to start mopping the wood floors more often (though how much more often than every other month is really necessary??). We own a baby gate for our house, but naturally it doesn't fit any doorway known to man, so we've been reduced to blocking off doorways with furniture. Ryan loves this; Mommy on crutches? Not so much. And before you even think of asking what happened to the gates we used with Ryan, let me just say: eBay.

7. In an extension of above tidbit, Ryan has also taken to tackling her baby brother when he gets too close to the stairs. I support her 100%.

8. In further extension of above extension, do not be worried about Jax, re: tackling injuries. He took a football in the face last week and totally rocked it like a champ. We're talking big people football, y'all. Thrown by an actual Big Person. You wouldn't have been able to handle it. Seriously.

9. In other news, Jaxson now drools uncontrollably and can frequently be found banging his head against any hard surface available. We're chalking it up to teething. Do not try to convince us otherwise.

10. I just left Ryan in her bed, cuddled up with Buenos Noches Dora, a stuffed puppy dog, her cabbage patch kid, a pink Boo-Bah, Baby Ariel, and multiple Happy Meal toys. I dare any of you to try to make her relinquish even one of these items. I tried to do just that, and we sat there for 10 agonizing minutes while she attempted to choose. Sophie's Choice has nothing on my daughter -- either that or her skills of manipulation have far exceeded my own. Either way, my disciplinary skills obviously leave something to be desired.

11. And last but not least, the bane of Shawn's existence as a restaurant manager is the chore of composing the store's weekly staff schedule. Knowing this, Ryan attempted to cheer him up tonight by insisting she sit with him and make her own schedule while he worked on his. As we sat merrily chuckling at her sweet wonderful ways in our best Leave It To Beaver impression, she got a bit over-enthused (shocking, I know), knocking over her cup of water, soaking (and thus ruining) Shawn's almost-finished schedule. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Sorry, it's just such a relief when it happens to someone else.

But, seriously -- what did I do to deserve this?

Was just on the phone with Lea, having fed the kids, straightened the kitchen and set them to playing, when lo and behold, Ryan comes in shouting, "Mommy! Someone did a BIG poopoo in the potty and now it's splashing all over!!"

Me:"Ry, is this real or pretend?"
Lea: (Snorting with laughter)
Ry: "It's real Mommy, and it's everywhere!"
Me: "There's poop everywhere?"
Lea: "Okaaay, I'm gonna go ahead and let you go..."
Ry: "Well, see I kinda had an accident, and now the big poopoo is splashing everywhere.
Me: *sighing, as I struggle to get out of chair* "Okay, I'm coming -- stay out of the splashing poopoo."

Shit. Shit shit shit. Shit water, to be precise. Curse this beautiful 20 yr old house with it's great big oak trees and shitty, leaky, uuber-clogging toilets...damn, why couldn't I have settled for brand new with a postage stamp yard? why why why???

Normally I would get on my hands and knees and wipe it up, but not with the crutches -- I almost killed myself in the hall just now (Ryan left a nice little peepee trail for me to follow -- isn't that sweet?). So I've just kinda laid a bunch of towels down to soak it up for now. Ninny is supposed to come over to spend the night tonight. I'm sure she'll be happy to take care of it for me. (pause) Hope she doesn't read this first.

If I didn't need those painkillers earlier, I sure do now.

Self-absorbed Whiner Seeks Assurance of Love Through Advice

Shawn and I had planned to start Body For Life this week, which would be fine, except Shawn keeps finding new things to disagree with, seeing as how he never actually read the book, just goes on what he vaguely remembers from when he saw me do it after having Ryan. Dieting through osmosis, I think it they call it.

So I made it through Day 1, but Day 2 is starting to piss me off, mostly because I'm hungry, and don't really want to have to stand up and cook anything right now, which is pretty much what I'd have to do.

Some may say I overdid it yesterday by cleaning, doing the dishes, laundry, etc.

Some may also say that I'm a stubborn ass who isn't taking her own health or the welfare of her kids into consideration by doing more than allowed.

Some may even say that I'm just too good a mother/wife/housekeeper to ignore my duties because of a minor injury.

I'd like to agree with the #3 somebodies, but I'm afraid that would be fraudulent, seeing as how we all know I'm just a stubborn asshole, plain and simple.

However you choose to judge me, my entire leg is now throbbing with pain, and I'm having a hard time feeling my toes.

Which brings me back to my original topic: the weight loss factor. I don't care if this bores you, it's what on my mind right now, so shut it. Please.

Okay, so the quickest way for me to lose weight would be to combine a healthy diet with a workout regimen, or so Richard Simmons says, and anyone who can stay famous this long with that 'fro has to be doing something right.

Fine, but I'm not going to be working out any time soon, so should I put it all off until my foot is healed, which would take less time the more I stay off it, meaning NO STANDING TO COOK DIET FOODS, oooorrrrr, should I stay on diet so that at least I'm doing something while laid up?

I know, right up there with global economics and world peace, but could you please take the 2 minutes it takes to register and leave a comment for your poor fat injured friend? For the love of God, am I not ALWAYS ready to let you know what I think? Couldn't you just once repay the favor????

Meanwhile, the kids are fine, Shawn is fine, blah, blah, blah...

Shawn The Martyr

So it turns out the biggest obstacle we have to hurdle with this broken foot business is Shawn's contribution to housework. Who knew there was someone who hated cleaning more than me?

Tough titties, 'cause Amy can't vacuum, and the floors gotta get clean. As bad as I feel about having to give up some of my independence, this part might be a little fun.

Speaking of fun, did anyone catch the workout I got last night? No? Well, damn, pull up a chair and let me tell ya all about it:

It only took me 20 minutes to get Jax into the Baby Bjorn, and a mere 10 more to scoot up the stairs backwards on my butt with him strapped to my chest. Those of you who knew me pre-breast reduction know that I can haul a good 20-30 pounds up there, so we're set. Let me just say I'm not quite as worried about missing my workouts while I'm injured -- I'm pretty confident I'll be able to make it up just by lugging Jaxson around. The crawling on my knees with him to his bedroom is my favorite part, though. Especially when Ry assumes I'm giving piggy-back rides and tries to hop on.

Shawn is no longer cursing my klutziness as much as he was a couple of days ago; he's now using it as an excuse NOT to go through with the vasectomy this weekend. Lemonade from lemons, people. We're a glass-half-full kind of family here.

I don't care what he does or doesn't get done, I'm just not going back on birth control. 6 years is enough for me, thanks. So whether or not he reschedules is pretty much dependent on whether or not he cares if we receive another surprise down the road. After this week, I'm pretty sure he'll be making another appointment.

IDLE HANDS

I've just spent the past 10 minutes rearranging my refrigerator magnets.

I miss my kids.

I want my kids.

I need my kids...

2006 ROCKS!!!

48 hours and counting on the couch, foot elevated, no kids. Torture: cruel & unusual, to be sure.

I've watched all the chick flicks I can handle without acquiring requisite toothache, have watched all the rated R movies I can handle without acquiring requisite headache, practiced my guitar to the point that I have finally achieved callous status (without actually getting any better, I'm afraid), have flipped through mags and novels, watched every Law&Order marathon, and am currently trying to figure out how in the hell I am going to survive this coming week with no more neighbors with free time, no more grandparents with free time, no more anyone with free time. BTW, thank you, Hosts, for a wonderful Parasite's Ball. So sorry the party has to end!

Originally, I was confident in my ability to sustain my "injury" while continuing our normal routine. It would be a mere inconvenience, I assured myself. Now that my deliciously delectable babies (can you tell they've been gone a while?) are returning to my care this evening, I am beginning to sweat just a bit.

Ryan should be pretty okay, other than being mind-numbingly, let's-redecorate-the-upstairs-where-Mom-can't-go kind of bored. This, I can live with. Jax is another matter.

Unfortunately, though he is otherwise completely brilliant and obviously talented beyond his almost-9-months, Money Ticket #2 still isn't walking (sooo inconsiderate), and he's barely mastered the crawling bit. So okay, I can manage to hobble around on one crutch while holding him, but what about bathtime? What about naptime? What about bedtime on those days Shawn closes the restaurant? I've mastered the scooting up the stairs on my ass trick(oh how you wish you had seen that), but am slightly concerned about doing it with 22 lb butterball in tow.

Plus, when I get to the top of the stairs, what am I supposed to do? I've currently got the Dr's spare set of Saran-Wrapped "crutches" awaiting me at the top of the stairs, should I dare attempt upward mobility, but they will be returned tomorrow, so as to avoid being charged any kind of usage fee (a beggar and a chooser am I).

Let's not forget my life-long coordination-challenged status. I'm not sure I'm the best candidate for the job of One-legged Baby Juggler. Thank God for Baby Bjorn, though that should be a sight as well.

Inevitably, we will have to venture out in the car at some point, which I'm thinking will probably require an extra hour of prep time; you know, just to be sure I don't accidentally kill any babies/small children in my attempt to load the car and subsequently drive using only the big toe of my right foot. That last part will probably be easier than it sounds, given my unusually long toes (shut up Lea Ann), though if you live in the Round Rock area, I might suggest you stay off the road between 9:30 am and 4pm, just to be safe...

So anyway, that's where I'm at now, contemplating the upcoming week and trying not to cry. I won't even allow myself to touch the issue of this coming weekend when I'll have to nurse Shawn back to health after his "operation" (5 days and counting). I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it or, rather, hobble...whatever.