If you are here you are at my new home. If you don't know what the heck I am talking about, I used to be over here at another blog...www.polkadotmamaof2.blogspot.com...but recently decided it was time for some change, and well I keep procreating so the whole mama of 2 thing just ain't working for me much anymore. You can only live in denial so long.
So there will be some construction going on up in here. I will be posting any new posts on both blogs for the old and the new, until we get this whole thing squared away. You know how moves are...they take endless amounts of time...
Please feel welcome to become a follower. I will be starting to hopefully give some goodies away, but you won't get them unless you follow me. See right over there, in the right sidebar? Yup there is where you sign up.
Thanks for coming over to visit.
P.S. I kind of like my new alias...Freckle Faced Mama...thanks to those who recommended it.
They gave me a 'birthday' bath. Still the same bath, but with grape flavored bubbles, still torture, can't fool me dummies.
They say the sun is out, how fun I will have on my walk. There is still ice on the ground...do you know how terrible it is to walk on ice with bare feet just to find a place to pee?
They say it's Victoria's 7th Birthday and since she now lives in California, they are going to Disneyland...what is up with that? Did anyone ask me if I wanted to see Mickey on my birthday?
Missionary work my curled up tail...
They say they have a BIG surprise for me later. Unless it is free reign to chew the noses and eyes off of every stuffed animal and being able to chase the cat around until she passes out...they can keep their silly surprises.
You may wonder why I am so grouchy on my 3rd birthday.
1. I am not a girl
2. I am not a human
3. I look like a fool
4. Please come from Culver City and rescue me Charles...I can't bear the propped photos anymore!
5. You would be grouchy too.
The idea for a Pity Party has been sitting in my head for awhile now. I tell my offspring often when they are whining, cranky, all is wrong with the world, 'well let's just go and throw a pity party.' Such is the life of a mom. It is in no way for the light hearted or the weak hearted, it is just plain tough sometimes.And in throes of it, in your worst of days, because you will have them, someone could possibly turn to you and say, 'well why don't you throw a pity party.' Because it's easy to complain, it's easy to say, 'whoa is me,' it is easy to want to run away with a pint of ice cream and hide in a closet. It's easy to scream, 'But you don't understand they took away my sanity!!!'
And I will tell you what, during most of these moments if we would just stop and pick up the phone, type an email, meet up with a friend for a playdate, you will find that you are not alone. They too couldn't get the baby to, 'latch on,' they too have children who sass, they too have had snotty noses to wipe for months on end, they too have babies who won't sleep and just cry. They too have experienced poop explosions clean ups so many times that you swear you just smell like poop all the time, they too have the child who would much rather pee and poop in his or her pants instead of using the potty. They too have children who want to grow up too fast, they too have children wanting to hang out with their friends more than you. They too have felt at the end of the day like just crying because they were too hard on this one or that one, because they spent more time with this one over that one, they too have maybe made the wrong decision, disciplined and it didn't work. Because let me tell you what...your failures, your struggles, your experiences as a mom your friends gain. It's not all for nothing. And your failures, your struggles, your experiences as a mom can be easily fixed from the advice from another 'been there done that,' mama.
The Pity Party title is just to be funny. Because beyond it all, there is not a shadow of a doubt that this what we were meant to do, be mothers. This is what we love to do, be mothers. But admitting that it is tough, and escaping it all for just one night to sit back with your friends, other mothers, and eat dessert, and drink some big girl beverages is well deserved.
There will be silly games, and silly competitions, but beyond all that there will be a sense of camaraderie. A sense of another soldier along with you in the battle of motherhood. Lordy, we all love our kids, but if we come across as perfect, that our kids do no wrong, that we know all of the answers in regards to child rearing, we are fooling no one, not even the rugrats. What better way to connect with someone that over a story that we would typically cry about but instead turning it into laughter because the child getting into the vaseline in your bathroom at the end of the day when no one napped and tore the place apart and she smeared it all over her lovely locks leaving them greasy for months on end, and when you went in there for just a moment of peace you slid across the tile because it is so slick from the lube, and you land face to face with the mess that she is, is in fact funny when shared with a friend.
The Urban Dictionary provides the definition of a 'Pity Party,' as such:
Pity Party: A way of experiencing grief, in which you spend your time feeling sorry for yourself and whining endlessly about how crappy your life is.
Pity parties can be just for one or for many people, such as maybe your friends and close people, who will try to comfort you or just be there for you while you keep asking yourself what did you do to deserve whatever it is that made you so sad in the first place.
Pity Parties require the proper outfit, which is usually pajamas cause you don't get all dressed up during those feeling-sorry-for-myself moments. Also you should have no make up on or just the one from the night before; hair undone as well.
It also involves tissues, comfort food such as ice cream; chocolate; potato chips; cookies; cake; and candy. Low fat food is banned.
Alcohol might or might not be allowed (if alcohol makes you go wild, no alcohol should be brought to the pity party in that case since the point is not exactly to have fun). The purpose of a Pity Party is to dump the pity.
Music is also very important at pity parties, including songs like "One is the Loneliest Number", "All by Myself" and any other song that makes you feel like throwing yourself from the nearest cliff.
Pity parties usually end after you are done whining or if someone breaks it up. This will usually be a cynical loved one who will not let you drown in self pity and will take you either to have the best time ever, drinking and partying or will just make you crawl out of bed by making you see how pathetic you look and how you should cut the whining and just do something to make things better.
I must laugh...because although there will be some comfort food, and a little friendly competition for the best 'war story,' none of this will take place...well the pajamas bit...that does sound like a bit of fun. What better then an expanding waist band when you are eating dessert after dessert and sipping beverage after beverage from the Hot Chocolate Bar?...yup I did say, Hot.Chocolate.Bar...mmmm...yummy...
But it's the idea of it. Because sometimes as moms we are so afraid to complain about it, so afraid to admit that children can get the best of you, so afraid to admit that hey sometimes I have bad day...sometimes we want to throw a Pity Party, and this party is to remind us as we will look around the room, that we aren't alone, and with that we will promptly take another bite of the Red Velvet Cake, and sit back and relax by the fire...knowing that we don't have to worry about it tonight. They can wipe snot anywhere they want, they can eat candy to their hearts content, because this party goes way past bedtime.
...And I can't wait.
**Details of the above said party will follow, but please take note that this is a private party with very very serious matters to discuss...and so not all information...what was that special sauce in the hot chocolate per se, will be up for grabs. Apologies...but not really, in advance.**
“If you treat a sick child like an adult and a sick adult like a child, everything usually works out pretty well” ~ Ruth Carlisle
Our lips are chapped, ours ears are itchy. We have been coughing at each other as a means of communication. "Cough three times if you want a cough drop, four for some peppermint tea."
This time of year is just terrible. Germs. I seriously walk around with Lysol with bleach in a holster. You sneeze, I am spraying everything in your general vicinity.
Our noses are raw from blowing and we smell of Vapor Rub.
But I tell you when something invades our home, like a cold. I like a freakin storm trooper going into battle. I focus in on it and go to town. I know just what angle to tilt the head and neck so that the post nasal drip does not irritate all that bad. I know where to position the humidifier so that the person benefits the most from its steam. I know where to put the vapor rub. I know at what point the child needs to be taken into the bathroom with the shower going at its hottest temperature encasing us in steam(by the way this is really good for the pores). I watch the color of snot, and I think now that it is back to clear it might be moving out, snot phases from clear to yellow to green back to yellow and then clear again. Consistency of snot varies too. From thin to thick to paste and back again. You know, no need for WebMd, I got you covered.
Andy's son, because he is certainly not mine when he does things like this, has now taken to creative ways of wiping his nose to spice things up a bit. Some kids find their sleeves handy. E finds just about anything absorbent fair game. Like your pillow. Like a stuffed animal. Like the cat. Like the carpet. It's disgusting, I completely agree with you. Now how do you think I feel. "Ethan, if you wipe your nose again on the carpet you are in timeout. " Seriously? Who raises these animals? FYI: Look before you touch, snot looks like glue when it has dried, has that sheen to it, typically, two long streaks of it. Please let me know about it, so I can blast it.
And that throat tickle. You know the one. You used to get them in school, during class. You don't want to cough and draw attention to yourself and spew germs all over, but that tickle, it won't stop. So you let out a little cough, it does no good. Your eyes are now watering. You try to constrict your throat muscles and release in hopes of getting the itch. No luck. You let out a little bit more of a cough and all h-e- double hockey sticks breaks loose. Your face is bright red, you are hacking, you raise your hand, the teacher looks at you like you have four heads, can't she see you need to rush into the hallway, to the nearest water fountain, to hack at the top of your lungs??!?! Instead she makes you ask. So you are coughing, eyes watering, face bright red, sputtering out key words, everyone is looking at you like you are some hacking freak, and you make a bee line to the door. FREEDOM! Or was that just me that happened to? I don't know. But whenever you have that cough it comes at the worst of times it seems...in the middle of church, in line at the store, at the movies, it's terrible.
Did I mention colds suck?
What is worse is the stomach bug. Now if I know you have the stomach bug I will avoid your presence until it has run its course. I'm sorry. Because worse then snot, worse then the throat tickle, worse then living in a pile of tissues, is vomiting. It is probably the worst thing ever, well besides the pain of a living thing coming out of your hoo-ha, but that at least as a wonderful end result. When I am puking I get the cold sweats, my fingers tingle, it is the worst, mostly because I hold back. I lie on the cold bathroom floor when I in the throes of vomiting. It's comforting, and it's clean, I know so, personally.
I fear vomiting. Is there a diagnosed phobia for that? Kids have it good. They need to throw up, they do it, they move on, as if no one is the wiser. They don't really even have to think about it because they have no idea what is happening. On sick days they get to vomit, watch all the movies they want, vomit some more, suck on some Popsicles, vomit, play a quiet game with Mommy, and then it is all better. I seriously act like I am in the midst of a total body take over by aliens who want to push all of my insides out in both directions. I can't talk, I can't focus, I can't think straight for fear that it might make me vomit again.
It is inevitable. One night someone in this house will wake up vomiting. Why do you vomit first at night? And then it will go and attack, victim after victim, and I will lie in bed with each one of them, defeated. But until then, I will do all I can to avoid it. If I find out you had it and I was just with you, I panic. Last week my husband brought a child to my house from a home that had the stomach virus in it. 'You brought a carrier here.' I love this child with all of my might, but he is a carrier. He then informed me that he had driven another friend home from where he was because this friends wife had gotten sick and had to leave. In my van, a carrier, in my van! Because once you know you were exposed every time you feel a little funny you are convinced you have the bug. I thought twice about eating tacos last week because if I was going to throw up that night, I didn't want it to be spicy. How nice to have that luxury.
And I don't care that you think I am overly paranoid. Like you like to go ahead and puke. Like it's nothing. Right.
So in the season of germs, know I have snot on my carpets, know that I love you and all but if you or someone in your home has vomited in the past week, we can stick to communicating via phone or internet. I will pay you the same respect when it comes here.
Go gather your hand sanitizer, your lysol, your ginger ale, cough drops, and tussin. We are in it for the long haul. Spring...Spring? Where are you?
My culprit...Play Doh.
I cringe a bit when my children ask to play with it. The pieces, the little speckles of doh left all over the table top, the floor...it's horrifying.
I have such great intentions surrounding Play Doh, I purchase the supplies for them. Opps, nevermind, error, Santa brings the supplies for them. Each time I, he, whatever, decides to put it under the tree and in the stockings, I say to myself, 'Look how fun it is, a burger maker, an ice cream sundae shop, a pop corn maker, the press that releases strings and strings of doh, it will surely bring them such excitement, live a little, it's just play doh.'
And it would be grand, but it is also extremely frustrating. Do they do a test run? They must. You know, putting children in a room surrounded by the new toy enabling them to use it and play with it, and then asking them how they like it. Are they using children with super human strength and patience? Can I meet them? Because if you play with play doh with your children you will know that those press things are nearly impossible for a child. You have to manipulate a huge chunk of play doh into a little itty bitty space, and then you have to press down on a lever that does not budge for them, and then there are tears of frustration because they just cannot do it themselves. Thanks Play Doh.
Then there are the teeny tiny molds you can put the play doh in and they are supposed to become these teeny tiny cutest little things ever to put on your play doh burger...yeah right. Again, I repeat, children cannot do this. Well children of the appropriate age for Play Doh. And the mixing of all the colors and shapes after one use. Why do they even bother? Green will never be just green again after the first use, it takes on shades of brown, pink, blue, much like what I find in Jake's diaper...ok, so not the butterfly, but that would be a nice surprise one day.
What piece I detest the most is the sprinkle thing for the sundae shop. Seriously? The child is supposed to crank a knob with one hand, after cramming play doh into a little tiny space again, while the other hand is supposed to hold the 'ice cream cone,' to gather the sprinkles on that are flying everywhere but onto the 'ice cream.' These tiny little pieces only adding to the wonderful mess.
I am about to suggest to Play Doh that they put a warning on their boxes it is only fair, they do it for cigarettes. Wait for it, I am going to tie the two together. The Marlboro Man does in fact warn people that smoking will in fact kill them in an untimely miserable and painful death...just a friendly reminder to all those smokers out there.Play Doh, has also for sure shortened my life span due to the high blood pressure and rapid heart beat that overcomes me when my children are melting into a crumpled tantrumming mess on the floor because they can't get the play doh to come out of the press because the play doh that was left in there from last time has become a hard rock refusing to budge blocking all fun and play doh spaghetti noodle making. No, I'm serious. So a warning would be nice. Because, man it does look like tons of fun, it's cool and all the kids are doing it, but oh the problems it causes are day ruining life changing. We are talking about me on all fours with a little tiny knife willing the playdoh out of the little slats in the wood floor that it has smooshed itself into.
After days of begging, of suggesting we play Play Doh, I must give in. I mean it is there, what fun am I if I don't let them play with something that seems as harmless as Play Doh? What a fool I am, and Play Doh creators love me for it. I think this time they are a little older then last time, a little stronger, a little more tolerant, I mean they let Jacob pull their hair and slobber all over them and don't even make a peep to object, they are more mature. And look at this new toy for playing with Play Doh that Santa brought, surely they will LOVE it. It doesn't matter. Play Doh brings out the worst in every child. I am 100% convinced.
Not only that here are some words of wisdom to all of you Play Doh novices: It is a proven fact that Play Doh takes longer to set up, then they actually play with it before there are meltdowns and plastic pieces flying everywhere. And apparently, according to Ethan and his expert palate, 'Play Doh does not taste bad, it's just a little too salty, like boogers.' Good to know.
What's 'that toy' for you?