AMomTwoBoys

Dear Grandma’s:

I’m entrusting you with my children this coming week.  And, as I’ve mentioned previously, I’m a nervous wreck about it.  Not because I don’t trust in your abilities to care and provide for them.  Because I do (really!).  But because, as you’re both well aware, I don’t leave them all that often.  Uh, like, ever, really.

There was that time in January that we spent in Palm Springs.  I didn’t sleep well.  There was also BlogHer weekend in July.  Although while I was on that trip, the boys were separated, so you were one on one, as opposed to having to watch both of them TOGETHER.

So here we go with some tips and tricks that will hopefully make your time with the boys easier.

• If Zach starts crying and Dylan immediately says “I said I’m sorry!  But I said I’m sorry!  It was uh accident.”  It was NOT uh accident.
• No matter what Dylan says, how many times he says “Pleaaeease?”, or how badly he insists he “needs” it, please do not allow him to have chocolate milk more than once a day.  And really, he doesn’t get it every day, so even giving it to him once a day is treat enough.
• Be ever aware of the fact that Zach is part monkey.  If he THINKS he can climb it, he will.  And more often than not, he gets himself into a precarious situation from which you will need to save him.
• Dylan lies.  I don’t know where he learned it, but he’s working on mastering it.  Be aware.
• Speaking of lying, he DOES NOT get a bunch of candy every time he poops on the potty.  One mini gummy worm is plenty.
• If he calls you into the room he’s in to “come see sumthin” try to figure out where his hands are before you approach.  If they’re “down there” chances are he’s going to try to show you his penis.  Please do not laugh.  You’ll only encourage this behavior and we’re trying to teach him that pulling it out and showing it to people is highly inappropriate.
• If Zach cries, he’s either hurt or tired.  Those are really the only two reasons.
• Or he might cry if you won’t give him the remote.  In which case he might also try to hit you.  This is also something we do not encourage.
• If all else fails, Dylan will eat Dinosaur Chicken.
• Zach will not.  But he will eat banana, peaches or cheese, so go with that.
• Macaroni & Cheese is also a pretty safe bet for both of them.  There’s some Trader Joe’s brand in the freezer.
• Pancakes are a big hit in the morning.
• NO butter for Dylan (unless you want him to freak out), Syrup is okay
• I don’t put Syrup on Zach’s.  He doesn’t know the difference, doesn’t need the sugar & will have it in his hair in a matter of seconds.
• No matter what Dylan says, he is NOT allowed to put the key into the car’s ignition.  (see above re: lying)
• Be prepared to hear “I want to do it mahself” over and over again.  From making his lunch to brushing his teeth to getting settled in his car seat.  Plan on having every chore take an extra minute or ten.
• Zach will most likely melt down by 11am or Noon.  So plan your day around being home for a mid day nap.
• If Zach’s glasses go missing, just ask Dylan.  He probably knows where they are.
• If he doesn’t know where they are, tell him you’ll give him candy if he finds them.
• That will serve two purposes.  You’ll find Zach’s glasses & Dylan will be busy for 5 - 10 minutes.
• If Dylan refuses to eat dinner, don’t give him dessert until he eats.
• Because then he’ll eat his dinner & won’t have a crazy sugar high afterwards.

And finally, DJ wants to add a warning.  Zach will get physically voilent if you have the audacity to eat something out of a bowl and not offer to share it with him.  This applies to ANYTHING, so be aware.

Good luck.  And don’t think I’m crazy if I call you constantly to check in.  I’m going to miss my babies something terrible.

To my new “home!” 

I’ve been working on this for ages, but couldn’t ever make up my mind, and then with the creation of AllMediocre, I bit the bullet and made the switch! 

I’ve got a bit more tweaking to do, but I’ll be over here from now on, so be sure to update your subscriptions! 

I kid you not. I’m totally serious. I need opinions. And advice. Does AllMediocre cross some sort of copyright infringement line? If I ask nicely will GuyK let me use it without suing my ass for all I’m not worth? (Here’s some background if you missed my post a few days ago)

See, here’s the problem:

AllMediocre is funny because it copies Alltop, and therein lies the problem. It copies Alltop. MediocreMomBlogs removes the whole Alltop copying thing, but it doesn’t have the same ring to it. PLUS, MediocreMomBlogs sounds kind of mean if you don’t know the original idea was AllMediocre. And it all sounds stupid if you’re reading this and are like, WTF is Alltop and what in the hell is she talking about today? And who’s this Dooce person?

Anyway, give me your thoughts. I’m not above emailing Guy K and asking if he’ll kindly let me rip-off Alltop so I can make fun of it and myself a little.

Oh, and on a whole other topic…does anyone out there know anything about starting a website (on the $4.32 I have budgeted for it)? KThanks.

And OH! P.S. I’m going out with my MOMs Club friends tonight to a Chocolate Buffet. YES…I just used those two words in the same sentence. And there’s a person’s whose JOB it is to DIP your pound cake/strawberries/bananas FOR YOU. Mmmmmm….I’ll see you back here tomorrow 35 pounds heavier and oh so very happy.

Did y’all see what happened here the other day? You prob’aly din’t. (I have NO IDEA why I just typed that sentence that way, I just felt like it.) Anyway, BOSSY left a comment. You know…BOSSY. I almost spit out my iced tea when I saw her name pop up. I haven’t been able to delete the email that says “Bossy has left a comment…” because it’s just. too. awesome. If you’re not sure who Bossy is, you don’t know what you’re missing. My sister, though, apparently knows who Bossy is.

As her comment on my recent post points out, and I quote: “That was pretty funny, but I still think I enjoyed Bossy’s reenactment of the Oprah/Cruise interview more . . . http://www.iambossy.com/i_am_bossy/2008/05/for-those-of-yo.html”

WHAT.EV, Biatch. In her defense she asked me yesterday if that was “In poor form” or something like that. As in “Should I NOT have linked to a blog that I think is funnier than yours on a day when you were attempting to post something funny?” Ya think? But, it IS a funny post and it IS Bossy, so I let it slide. Just this once.

In other commenting news, my idea for AllMediocre seems to be receiving a lot of support. And by a lot, I mean that half of you (the ones not already listed on Alltop) thought it was a GREAT idea. And one of you even offered to defect. I think you were just being nice, but I’ll take it anyway. I’ll have to put some thought into this whole crazy idea. You all thought I was being all tongue-in-cheek and self-deprecating…just you wait, my friends, just you wait. I’ve got plans…big plans.

AND, in other, “I’ve Got Plans, BIG Plans” news, did I mention that I’m not going to BlogHer and that it makes me shed a tear or two every time I think of it? Especially since it’s a hop, skip & a jump away for me? Gah! I have an idea for that as well. But it’s just an idea so far and if it ends up being just as expensive as actually going to BlogHer it won’t end up happening. And I want to go to the People’s Party, damn it. There’re going to be awesome people there. Damn. I hate missing out on a good party. Plans, people, I’ve got plans. Oh, and if any of you are driving up the 101 to get to San Francisco, you’re welcome to come over and hang out. Or use my bathroom, or whatever. I’ll even clean it for you.

Now for my questions:

1) Are you going to BlogHer?
2) If so, would you be willing to participate in a drinking game dedicated to me?
3) Do you read Dooce?
4) If so, you read this. If not, go read it. (I realize that’s not a question)
5) Did you see her on the Today Show today? Did you want to slap Kathy Lee too?
6) Do you ALWAYS want to slap Kathy Lee & today was no different?
7) I’m in need of song suggestions to add to my IPod. So…what 4 songs, in your opinion, can my IPod NOT live without? It’s heavy with Colbie Caillet and Leona Lewis. I need some music from peeps who’s first & last name start with different letters. You know, just to change it up a bit.

And I leave you with this video of Zach. He’s a mover and a shaker now and is quite determined to get at what ever toy (or TV remote) catches his eye. He also makes this really funny face when he’s excited and breathes really fast out of his nose, which makes a funny noise. It’s adorable and makes me want to nibble on his cheeks every time.

All righty, people. I’m weighing in on the whole Alltop, Sony, Johnson’s Baby Camp Hullabaloo. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you can probably skip down a few paragraph’s where I’ll fill you in on some other fascinating things going on in my life. Like how I’m TOTALLY famous thanks to The Bloggess. For real. But you’ll have to wait for that.

First: Alltop: I TOTALLY do NOT belong on that site. That’s not what Alltop is all about, it’s not for my blog, not for my 8, 10, 12 or 16 on a really good day, comment level. I get that. I totally do. It’s about the TOP blogs, the awesomest, most traffic’d, most visited, most commented, most loved blogs. I am not on that list. Fine. But, having said that, OF COURSE I’d love to be included. Listed with the likes of Playgroups Are No Place For Children, The Bloggess, Her Bad Mother, Plain Jane Mom, Girls Gone Child, Pioneer Woman, and other awesome ladies. Hello?! Who wouldn’t want to be included. Of course I feel a little left out. I’m sure a lot of you do. But, whatev. The people included have worked their asses off to get there. They network, comment, email, re-comment, re-email, re-network and do it all over and over again day after day. That’s not something I can commit myself to do, even if I wanted to. And I don’t. I open up my Reader every morning with much anticipation and as soon as I see the “78 Unread” I get a knot in my stomach and I start to feel the guilt. Holy shit! How am I going to thoughtfully read and comment on all of these posts. All of which I WANT to read, not skim, and come up with something intelligent and meaningful to say. How can I possibly do all that AND write something for my own blog. It. Just. Can’t. Happen. I’ve come to terms with that. I’m never going to be a “Big Blogger” because I just don’t write anything interesting enough have the time to dedicate to making it happen. Maybe I’ll start a website called “AllMediocre” and I can list to those of you who are like me. Anyone interested? Would I be infringing on some copyright thing? Is that offensive? Maybe I could convince The Bloggess to come up with a badge that reads something like “All Mediocre, Confirmation That I’m Just Okay” or “AllMediocre, All The Stuff That Does Suck” I’m just brainstorming here. Feel free to offer suggestions.

Second: Replying to comments. Another thing that fills me with dread and a sense of extreme Blog failure. Remember above when I told you that I can barely bring myself to look at the number of unread posts in my reader without suffering a severe case of hives? Responding to comments is something that causes severe ANGINA. I love you for reading, I love you for commenting. I REALLY REALLY REALLY DO. But the thought of having 30, 40, 50, 100 comments on ONE post gives me heartburn. How can anyone possibly respond to those comments? How do you keep a loyal readership without responding to comments? I feel like a bad mother if I don’t respond every single time a new person leaves me a comment. And I only get 12 (maybe) comments a post. I don’t think I could handle the stress of having a larger reader base.

Third: YES, I’m jealous I don’t get invited to Johnson’s Camp Baby and the Sony thing-y in LA. There, I said it. I’d LOVE to be included in shit like that. Who doesn’t like free trips, hanging out with awesome lady bloggers, free drinks, and TONS of coll free stuff? Duh. But, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’m pretty sure I’m not the sort of influential blogger they’re looking for. And that’s fine. It’s FINE, I said. God. Stop effing bugging me about it. I said I was FINE!

****
Now on to other things going on in my life:

1) There is a caterpillar living on my basil plant in my kitchen. My basil plant is dying a slow, painful death. Dylan is attached to the caterpillar, so for the time being, that little fucker will NOT be dying a slow painful death. The Caterpiller, that is, not Dylan.

2) My kitchen cabinets now look like this:

Well, two of them anyway. For those of you not familiar with my kitchen, and/or organizational skills, trust me when I tell you that this is a VAST improvement.

4) Is anyone still with me?

5) Dylan just ate his first bowl of cereal “All by himself” If I hear the words “I can do it. All. by. my. self.” one more time I’m going to start ripping my hair out. For reals.

6) Do you want to know why I’m totally famous now? The Bloggess featured one of my posts on her Good Mom/Bad Mom Blog. Do you see it there? Go down…down….down…almost to the bottom? Good. Keep Going…down…down. There! Right there! “I Wasn’t This Crazy Before I Became A Mother”

7) Totally justified.

I fully intended on writing a post about my hormone problem to the musical beat of McHammer’s “You Can’t Touch This.” It would have been AWESOME but then I realized I’m not nearly as creative as I like to think, so I gave up on it. I also tried to come up with a song to go along with the WonderPets theme, but that didn’t work either. I only succeeded in getting the damn thing stuck in my head. AGAIN.

You’re Welcome.

Anyhoo, Zach’s amount of time spent on the boob is tapering off and my hormone levels are adjusting upwards accordingly. Fun for everyone. Especially DJ.

Which explains some of my recent posts and why, upon initially reading about Baby Emily, I was a blubbering, teary mess for a good while. And when I say a GOOD while, I mean MUCH longer than I would have been normally. And then, NO ONE commented on that post, and I thought I totally ticked everyone off for telling asking you to donate to her family and THEN it took a while for more than 2 of you to comment on my RECIPE post and I thought for SURE I’d pissed you guys off and then I got all high-schoolie and was like “OMG, nobody likes me and I’m such a loser and I have no friends and no one is going to ask me to the prom and OMG.” And then 2 more of you commented and Tootsie even gave me an award, which reminded me that Z had also give me an award and then I started to feel better but I was still not sure you all weren’t mad at me and then it got hot and I drank a glass of wine and I complained and then you commented and now I’m starting to feel better about myself. And THEN Holly gave me an award and I was all “OMG, I’m totally going to be PROM QUEEN because people like me so much!”

But I’m still hormonal. Could you tell?

And in case you’re wondering, Baby Emily is in Boston at Boston Children’s Hospital and the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, which is where Chris from Crazy Sexy Cancer is treated, so it can’t be a bad place for her to be. Also, I’ve been following this blog lately and she even linked to Emily’s story, so all the guilt I felt about bringing it to you has been washed away. To clarify, I didn’t feel guilty about bringing you the story, because it’s a desperate situation and her family needs help and I don’t feel bad about helping them get it. NOT. ONE. BIT. I’m not sure where the guilt part comes in. Probably because I HATE asking people for things. Apparently that holds true even if the things aren’t for me.

And now I must go because I’ve been blogging all morning and Zach has playgroup in half an hour and I haven’t even showered yet.

But First! Deadliest Catch premieres TONIGHT! TWO HOURS! Set your TIVO or DVR or whatever!

I’m moving on. I’m done with the whole wallet thing. Sonja’s probably done did spend all my money by now, my cards are all cancelled and I’m on “credit watch” with the credit reporting agencies. BTW, apparently I have EXCELLENT credit. I think that’s most likely attributed to the fact that I have A LOT of it, by way of monies I owe other people, but apparently that’s not how it works. Whatever the reason, hopefully it will stay that way. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

That saga of the floors, however, continues. Gil, my supah excellent tile guy, is back this week finishing up where we left off a few weeks ago. Save for the grouting to be done tomorrow, we are done with the freakin’ floors. Can I get a “Whoop Whoop”? Thanks.

Here’s what they look like now. Please be kind and tell me that it looks FABULOUS and you would NEVER guess we didn’t MEAN for it to look that fucked up awesome.
Oh, and he’s also finishing up the backsplash, which has been 2/3 of the way tiled and 0/3 of the way grouted for the past 1 1/2 years. Don’t ask. This is what it looks like after his efforts yesterday. Again, still needsd to be grouted, but it will get done TOMORROW, not in 2009. So, yay!

And those are copper tiles. The toe kicks are copper as well. It helps having a hubby who is a sheet metal guy, as we have all sorts of copper accents all over the inside & outside of our house. Maybe someday soon I’ll take you for a copper tour of the G-Wine Posse’s Hood. But only if you’re lucky.

Dylan went to the Doctor today for his 3 year old check up. Holy shit. He’s three. On Friday. T.H.R.E.E. I need a drink.

Anyway, he’s just dandy and was the most well behaved, cooperative kid when the nurse and Doctor were checking him out. It was like some other being inhabited his body throughout the check up. And then, my dumb ass asks about this little wart-y looking thing on his chest. It’s been hanging around for a few months now and doesn’t seem to bother him, but I don’t like looking at it. I want to pop it everytime I lay eyes on it. To make a long story short, the Doc decided it should be removed. So he scraped it off. You can imagine how well that went over. But, Dylan is now wart-y thing less and the promise of a popsicle when we got home perked him right up. As we were leaving the office he even said “That was fun!”

Here he is with his bandaid and his popsicle. Outside enjoying the 76 degree day.

Now, about that 76 degree day. It’s been GORGEOUS here for the past 5 or 6 days. And when I say gorgeous, I mean that we’ve had that weather that makes EVERYTHING look pretty and fresh and you feel like all’s right with the world, even though someone just stole your wallet and is probably at Costco having a $1.50 hot dog and a soda on your dime. It’s been like that. Of course, it’s still supposed to cold, cloudy, windy & possibly even rainy for the big party on Saturday. Son. Of. A. Bitch. As if the universe hasn’t shit on me enough this past week, it’s going to give me un-fun party weather. Bastard.

If you’ve noticed (or not because your first thought every day isn’t “Oh My, AMomTwoBoys hasn’t commented on my blog recently”) I haven’t really been commenting on blogs lately. Partly due to all the OTHER stuff I’ve been having to take care of and partly because I figured I’d try out this whole “Google Reader” thing. People, let me tell you, it’s NOT working out for me. In theory, it’s great. I love that I can take a quick peek and see who’s got a new post up, but I find that once I’m done reading the post I don’t bother to click over to their ACTUAL blog to leave a comment. I suppose that’s pure laziness on my part, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles. So, in case you’re interested, I’m thinking about forgoing my Reader and going back to the old way of doing things. I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that. You’re welcome.

And since several others of you have recently shared with us what google search results have directed people to your blogs, I shall share with you a few of mine:

Somewhere, US: fresh mom boy videos (?)
Palm Harbor, Florida: Moms & Boy Lovers (Sicko-get off the internet and see below)
Seattle, Washington: How to Institutionalize Myself (good luck with that)
My personal favorite, from our friends down under, in Australia:
I love pizza and want to eat it and rub it all over my body (Me too)

I’ll leave you with that. Have a nice day.

Okay, so I realize, much to DJ’s chagrin, that I’ve outed myself to you people as being completely insane. On more than one occassion. But I really, seriously, truly need to be tossed into the Looney Bin. That’s probably not politically correct. The Crazy House? No, that doesn’t work either. The Insane Asylum? Do those even still exist? Okay, whatever. You get the point.

But after last night, it’s been reconfirmed. Sign it, Stamp it, Certify it and stick it in the mail. I’m Certifiable.

It all started out innocently enough.

Put Zach to bed. Check. Sleeping soundly, no wheezing, hacking or visible discomfort.

Put Dylan to bed. Check. “I don’t need a book” means I just want to go to sleep. Fine. “Good night. No Bugs. See you in the Mornin!”

Cut to 3:00am. I’m awakened by something. I’m not sure what, just something. I listen. It’s hard to hear over DJ’s snoring breathing (he’s still stuffy). Then I hear it. Dylan coughing. No, HACKING. Bad. Like, really bad. I jump out of bed and race to his room. Um, no. He’s sound asleep. Doesn’t even wake up when I go bounding in there.

Okay, back to bed. I must have been dreaming and it woke me up and I was uneasy from the dream and was still half (or 3/4) asleep and thought I heard something, but I really didn’t and I need to just forget about it and go back to sleep. Nothing to see here, folks. Head on pillow, eyes closed. Almost asleep.

Again, there’s something. I roll over, sit up and listen. Definitely, something. Coming from outside, maybe? It sounds like someone screaming, crying. A toddler? Outside at 3:00am in the 40 degree weather? No. Maybe? I open my window and listen. Muffled freeway noises. Night noises. “You’re hearing things” I tell myself. There are no abandoned children wailing outside your house in the middle of the night. “But” I think, “remember that urban legend about the murderer who plays a recording of a baby crying to get people to open their doors and then he attacks and kills them. What if it’s that? What if it’s NOT that and someone has ACTUALLY left a baby outside my door. Clearly, they’ve seen my awesome parenting skills and have chosen ME as the best person to raise their child.” CLEARLY, the don’t read this blog. There is no noise, there is no abandoned child, there is no serial killer playing tapes of crying babies. Just my imagination, once again running wild. So, back to bed. Again.

Again, something. My attention is drawn to the baby monitor. ZACH! OMG, It’s Zach! I, literally, FLY out of bed and into his room. He’s lying there, asleep, making these creepy little moaney-type noises upon every exhale. HOLY SHIT. There must be something wrong with him. Some terrible case of RSV, newly developed from his little innocent cough. His lungs don’t work and he can’t get enough air. (Mind you, I JUST commented to Mrs. Flinger that RSV is not nearly as dangerous in older babies as it is in little newborns, but that realistic outlook doesn’t cross my mind at 3:15 in the morning. Or when it’s my child. DUH, I’m prone to freaking out.) So I turn on the hallway light, pick my baby up and inspect him. Blue lips? No. Bluish fingernails? No. He starts to fuss. Oh, shit. I’m waking him up. Insert pacifier. He fidgets, opens his eyes. Looks at me like “Where the hell did you come from?” and gives me a little smile. I sit down with him in the rocking chair and get him back to sleep, all the while I monitor his breathing for any irregularities. There are none, save for the occassional moaney-type noise upon exhale and occassional little cough. Put him back to bed. Watch him for a few minutes to make sure he’s fine. Go back to bed myself. Lie there, thinking about the HUGE probability that he’s going to stop breathing at ANY MOMENT and return to his room to bring him to bed with me. At least I can keep my eye on him, and in the event of his imminent death, I can be there for CPR until the paramedics arrive.

So what happens? I bring him to bed with me, he sleeps. And BREATHES . I lie there, wide awake. Still freaked out about the serial killer and the abandoned child. Once I forget about those things, I start to think about, what else? BLOGGING. Holy shit, people. I laid there, in bed, with my breathing child, at 3:30 AM, and thought about how I would relay this whole incident to you, the internets. Really, I did. For, like, an hour maybe. I kid you not.

Now, if thinking there was a serial killer playing the sound of a crying baby, or that someone would actually PICK me to raise their abandoned child, OR that I was convinced my baby was about to die because he was making a kinda funny noise WHILE BREATHING, if all that wasn’t enough evidence to prove that I need to be committed, surely the fact that I laid in bed and wrote my blog post IN MY HEAD about the whole situation is proof enough. Yes?

All I can say is that I hope they have wireless interent in the psychiatric hospital.

Oh, and this post was much more amusing in my head in the middle of the night than it is right now. Why is that?

Dear Internet People Who Have Been at This Much Longer Than I,

Please, please help me figure out why, suddenly today, my RIGHT hand column decided to place itself in the CENTER of the VERY BOTTOM of the page. I’m trying to avoid “Blogger Help.”

Your assisstance is much appreciated as I’m a Blogging Newbie and still have my head up my ass when it comes to such things.

Love,
Meg