The Unexpected Joys

Nobody prepared me for the unexpected joys of motherhood. No book, no magazine, no tv show, no doctor. I knew that hormones from pregnancy can make people moody. But I didn't know that my brain was going to shrink 7%. And although the shrinking is supposed to reverse after the baby is born, I don't think it did before it shrunk another 7% with my second pregnancy. So now I've lost anywhere from like 10-14% of my brain but I'm still supposed to act like I haven't lost my mind? And nobody ever told me that I was going to have to tuck my tummy into my pants afterwards. I knew my tummy would get bigger and then smaller. But I didn't know that the skin was going to get bigger and then not smaller. And I didn't know that the chiropractor was going to be taking up space on my "favorites" list on my phone. I knew my stomach muscles would be shot, but I didn't know that was going to blow my back out too. I also didn't know that I was going to have worse acne than a teenager who eats pizza and chocolate as a staple, and that pregnancy and breast-feeding automatically make you a non-candidate for any dermatological acne treatment. I didn't know that, after I had my kids, I was also going to get eczema -- a huge perk when you already don't look good in a swim suit, I might add. I mean, what's better than a braindead, acne-ridden, tummy tucking-in whale in a swim suit? A spotted one!

I Hope That Wasn't Full

We keep two extra propane tanks by our barbeque. I'm not sure why. I think maybe they are backups, but maybe they're just the empty ones that we need to refill. I'm not the barbequer in this family, and my interest in anything pertaining to the barbeque (other than the food that comes off of it) is low to none. But every morning, I sit outside with the kids and drink my coffee while we eat our breakfast and Jordan digs in the dirt (although he's about to have his dirt digging privileges taken away -- just watched him empty his bucket-o-dirt into the pool as I'm writing this). The other morning was no different (except the pool stayed clean that day and the bucket-o-dirt was emptied onto the kitchen floor... he's a sneaky little boy). But as I watched Jordan wander through the yard, filling his bucket with dirt samples from every corner, I noticed that he stopped by the barbeque. He was touching one of the propane tanks, so I walked over there to redirect him... just in time to watch him turn the knob on the top from "open" to half way closed. I really hope that wasn't full. It's not anymore, either way.

Circus Act

We went to the circus yesterday. I thought it would be fun to take the kids to the circus. Well, really, I wanted to go to the circus, I'm not gonna lie. I went when I was four years old, but the only reason I know I went is that I came home with a tiger flashlight. But the circus seems like such a happy place and I really wanted to see what it was about. Besides, the tickets were pretty cheap. $44 for four circus tickets -- the "mom discount".

Oh, and...
$26 in hidden ticket fees, including the "facility usage fee" for each ticket
$10 for gas to get there
$12 for parking
$25 for two baskets of chicken strips, a soda and a water
$20 for a light-up toy for Jordan

So I was feeling a little stupid about my idea to have a cheap and fun family day. But I put that behind me and thought we could still have a fun family day. We got to the circus and began to unload the kids from the car when I noticed that Jordan didn't have his shoes on. Dave noticed it at the same time and asked "Where are his shoes?"... My reply: "You didn't get them?!" Haaaaaa! Fortunately, Jordan is still in the carry-able weight range. We got into the circus without a hitch though, and went to our seats. The uptight usher seated us. The show started. It was awesome! And then an entire family came shuffling down our row from the other aisle. They stopped when they got to us. "You're in my seat." Lovely. The usher seated us in the wrong row. He's got a really complicated job so it's understandable. But we got the situation taken care of and watched the rest of the amazing show -- it was everything I had hoped for and more. Well... I did hope for a fleeting moment that the tigers would eat the guy who was whipping them, but I changed my mind about that hope when I realized the traumatic effects it would have on 10,000 young children in the arena. Sometimes I hope bad things that moms probably shouldn't hope. Anyway, when the show was over, we were definitely ready to head home. Jordan was getting cranky. I put the shoeless child up on my shoulders to make it easier to carry him and started the walk up the two stairs to the lobby area when the uptight usher grabbed me. Okay, first of all, I don't like being grabbed. It makes me defensive. But secondly, I don't like being told that somebody is not going to allow me to take another step, particularly when there are another thousand people crowding behind me on the stairs, trying impatiently to get out, and I'm blocking their way. Uptight Usher explained, logically (and frantically), that he can't let me take another step with Jordan on my shoulders because "somebody is going to push you and the baby is going to die." Right. Because somebody would be pushing me down the stairs with my child when the entire crowd is struggling to get up them? UUsh was my favorite part of the circus. He was the undercover clown that the undercover ticket fees covered, I think.

My Cup is Empty.

I drink a lot of coffee. Excessive amounts, really. It's the only way I can really keep up with the kids, especially when I don't get enough sleep. But I often forget where I have left my coffee cup. One day, I thought I had left it on the table, but couldn't find it. I figured I would find it later in the day. And I did. When I found it, the cup was empty, and Jordan smelled of French Vanilla creamer. Let me just tell you this: caffeine gives a nice little boost to sleep-deprived adults. For non-sleep-deprived-one-fifth-my-size babies, it works as turbo-charger.

Oooohhh Nooooooo!

The first time you realize your child just intentionally did something they knew was not okay, it's pretty shocking. Also, when sh** hits the wall in a literal sense, it's also quite shocking. Today, my dear little boy removed his diaper and flung its contents all over the bathroom. But that wasn't good enough for him. He then took the empty diaper and rubbed some of the "contents" into the grout, then swept other contents under the bathmat and stomped all over it. But that still wasn't good enough. After that, he waited for me to notice, then scrunched up his little nose and started laughing, then quickly turned, and his little naked butt went running down the hall. Somebody just learned how to make mommy angry.

Labels are Indigestible

Yesterday, while changing Jordan's diaper, I discovered that labels are indigestible. I saw something blue in what should have been brown, and, horrified, took a closer look. I always thought it was funny that there are nutrition facts on water bottles, but how ironic that the nutrition facts are the same before digestion as they are after...

Toothbrush-er

I recently started buying toothbrushes in bulk. They don't sell little kid toothbrushes in bulk; just adult ones. But we need them. Not because we brush our teeth overzealously. Mainly because I'm a nice person. You see, Dave keeps his toothbrush in a drawer that Jordan can easily access. Jordan happens to love toothbrushes. He loves brushing his own teeth with them, but even more, he loves to clean stuff with them. Since toothbrushes are normally kept in the bathroom, there are all sorts of lovely things for Jordan to clean with Dave's toothbrush, as you can imagine. And although Dave would never know what Jordan did with his toothbrush if I didn't tell him (and I admit that on the rare occassion I am tempted by supressed-diabolical-passive-agression not to tell him), I am a nice person a lot of the time. Afterall, I wouldn't want my "oth" switched with an "ilet" either, when it comes to brushes.

Jordan's Big Boy Bed

Jordan got his very first big-boy bed yesterday. It's a racecar toddler bed with rails that go from the headboard to the middle of the bed. It's about a foot off the ground, so if he fell out, he would be safe. Amazingly, the entire bed came in a box about 2 feet x 3 feet x 2 inches. It fit in that tiny box because it came in a million pieces. I wanted to surprise Dave and have it all set up before he got home, so I thought I'd attempt to put it together. So I counted all the pieces and had everything all set up to go before I started the assembly. I really can't figure out why things for babies come in so many peices. The Exersaucer came in about 200 pieces. This bed was about the same. WHY?! Do the makers not understand that we parents have a difficult enough time putting together a sandwich while entertaining our little ones, let alone an instruction-reading-required-multi-tool-assembly-hundreds-of-tiny-choke-hazards piece of equipment? Anyway, I got the bed put together most of the way, and was trying to attach the footboard to the frame when Jordan decided to come pretend he was driving the bed on my lap. Very cute, and a lovely bit of gratification for all of my work. Then I realized that I was missing some screws. Where did I find them? Oh, only in my son's mouth. Awesome. This is exactly why I hate that things come in a million pieces. Thank God he didn't swallow those! I finished putting the bed together at last, and was feeling very proud of myself. I turned around to grab the screwdrivers to take them back out to their spots in the garage when I realized there were three screws sitting next to them. Upon review of the assembly booklet, I found that no extra pieces were included in the box. I didn't know where they could be missing from, so I did what any safety-conscious mother may or may not do... I weight checked it. Myself. The good news is that: 1) the bed holds ALOT of weight; 2) the matress totally covers up the bent bars on the frame! Woohoo!

Do I Tell Her?

The kids and I went to lunch with a friend of mine the other day. I've known her since high school, and after losing contact with her for several years, we finally reconnected. I was really excited to go to lunch with her and catch up a little more. So we went to a little Italian restaurant near her work, and we each ordered a little pizza. When we got our food, Jordan took a couple of bites of mine and decided that he wanted hers instead. It's really embarrassing when your child misbehaves in a restaurant. But I'm lucky enough that my friend happens to love babies, and she was happy to be Jordan's new lap host. She was giving him little bites of her pizza when I noticed that he was also helping himself to her pizza. But only the pepperoni. The thing is, he doesn't like pepperoni. I know this from experience. And as I saw him pull each pepperoni off her pizza and stick it in his mouth, I also witnessed him pulling the pepperoni back out of his mouth and placing it back on the pizza. Of course I immediately told her, and told him "No thank you, Jordan." (A social experiment I thought I'd try -- I never say "no"; I always say "no thank you", even if it doesn't make sense... I'm hoping it will help make my naughty little boy more polite.) Anyway, she said "Oh, it's okay...." Okay, 1) I never know if people really mean that when they say it. 2) Do I tell her that he regularly sits in our garden and uses his breakfast spoon to shovel dirt into his mouth?

Wake Up Time!

Jordan was always a terrible sleeper in his early months. He woke up every hour or so to nurse, but did this all night long. By the time he was six months old, his pediatrician told me to let him cry it out for three nights -- just ignore the crying, don't let him nurse, and see what happens after that. I was desperate at that point, and I trust her professional advice, so after enduring three of the most horrible nights of our lives (Dave even had to go sleep upstairs with ear plugs and extra pillows just to get enough sleep to go to work), we ended up with a sweet little boy who has slept until 8 or 9am almost every single morning since. So when little Emma was born and slept from 10pm-6am straight every single night from the get-go, we were very excited! She slept so well, and I told everybody how I got so lucky this time and how it must have been God's way of thanking me for dealing with such craziness the first time around. (As a side note, I'm not messing with God anymore. Who was I to think God would thank me for something?! God doesn't need to thank lowly little non-church-going-Bible-reading me.) Anyway, all of a sudden, four months rolled around and my sweet little sleeping girl decided to wake up at 3am. The next night, same story. This continued for a week. Now it is the following week. That little girl has decided that 3am is an appropriate time to wake up and start the day. WHY?!!!! She wakes up at 3am, and stays awake until Jordan wakes up. And the most frustrating part: as I peeled myself out of bed this morning after only a few hours of sleep, and headed up to go get Jordan out of his crib and start the day, I looked down at my little sleep terrorist only to see her look into my eyes and grin a huge, gummy grin, just before she drifted into a deep sleep.