What's the going rate for a 2 year old these days?

So, I am selling my 2 yr old to the next band of gypsies that come to town.

And no, don't try to talk me out of it. I've made up my mind.

Not that I have ever seen any gypsies in my town. But if I do, I'm selling my 2 year old for a book of curses and some gumbo.

I think a demon has possessed my child. The last 2 days have sent my anxiety through the roof!!
Max has been extremely filled with tantrums...lots of kicking, hitting, crying, refusing, yelling, throwing, and whatever else he isn't supposed to do - HE HAS DONE IT!

Besides all the tantrums he threw yesterday, he also did this: I went to the bathroom and almost fell because I slipped on a large pool of hand soap that he pumped out all over the floor!

He fought me about taking a nap yesterday and today, too. AND...

about thirty minutes ago, while I THOUGHT he had been napping peacefully for the last hour, he wasn't actually napping at all, but doing this:

pumping and smearing lotion all over the nightstand in my bedroom. And all over the floor. And all over the sheets on my bed. And all over the sides of my trashcan.

Michael J. Fox is now very moisturized.

The upside to all of this is that it still doesn't occur to him to lie. He never lies about what he has done.

"Max, why is your brother crying? What did you do?"

"I hit him in the head." or "I pushed him down."

"Max, where is your Toy Story penguin?"

"I put him down the hole. He's gone." (the "hole" is the air vent in our kitchen)

"Max, why is this remote broken?"

"Because I threw it."

So, when he came into the living room with his hands completely covered in a white substance, I asked him what he had done. And he said, "Come here, Mommy. I show you."

My stomach was in knots as I followed him down the hall. What was I going to have to clean up now? I had already cleaned up the yogurt he dumped on the floor at breakfast and the refried beans he smeared all over the table at dinner last night.

I couldn't figure out what he could have done because I always close the bathroom doors when he sleeps just in case he tries to sneak out of his room and play "bath" in the toilet.

He led me down the hallway to my bedroom and I wanted to kick myself for not closing my bedroom door. He walked around to my side of the bed and said, "Look Mommy!" And then I saw poor MJF covered in lotion, along with my pillow, my sheets, my other books, my chapstick, my health insurance information, and everything else I had in the vicinity.

Not that I wouldn't have been able to figure out that he was the culprit if he hadn't already told me. Those two rectangles you see in the bottom right hand corner of the picture are his Han Solo frozen in carbonite statues from Star Wars. He never goes anywhere without them.

Dead giveaway.

But, now that I think about it, I'm not sure selling him to gypsies would be such a good idea.

Since gypsies travel so much, they might not be able to get him his special chocolate soy milk and regular dairy milk mixture that he likes so much. Or his Scooby Doo fruit snacks. And I bet they would get tired of hearing about how Han Solo was frozen in carbonite. And what if they didn't know the words to "Rainbow Connection"? He can't sleep without hearing that song. And if he got a boo-boo, would they have Spiderman band-aids?

Yeah, maybe I'd better keep him. After all, what would I do if I wasn't cleaning up after him all the time? Have a life? Nah, what mother wants that.

I'd rather have slobbery night-night kisses and messy hugs. Definitely.

The Starbucks Fairy

So, when I went through the Starbucks drive-thru today to get my usual tall coffee with soy milk (my coffee orders don't require several deep breaths and a modern dictionary on coffee abbreviations), the lady at the window said that the woman in the car in front of me had paid for my coffee!

And I started crying! Aye yi yi.

I wish I could tell that woman in the white SUV how much her kind gesture meant to me - how much she improved my energy, my mood, my dreary morning.

I was having kind of a rough morning for several reasons: one, it was raining. Again. It seems that it has done nothing but rain here in the South for weeks.

two, when the nurse weighed my son before his ear tubes surgery last Friday (I will write more about that later), she had to weigh me holding him and then weigh me alone because they didn't have a baby scale. And that was the first time I have been weighed in about 6 months. And I found out I have gained 10 pounds.

So, THAT'S what happens when you are consistently overwhelmed by taking care of a home and two young children as a stay-at-home mom with no intellectual stimulation and no real feeling of usefulness and so you eat handfuls of chocolate to self-medicate. Got it.

three...kinda goes hand-in-hand with number two... I had just been to the mall to try on clothes. Ugh. Something I used to love, but now, not so much. I looked at my midsection in the mirror at Express and my muffin top told me that the extra 10 pounds make me irresistible to men from Jersey Shore and bears, so I left feeling fat and dejected.

And then! The Starbucks Fairy!

Thank you, Starbucks Fairy. Bless you and thank you. You made my morning. Now, I hope I can pay it forward. Maybe I could feed myself to some starving bears. I've heard muffin tops are delicious.

I'm. Not. Cool.

So, I just read my mom's latest blog post, "Uh...Where Do I Live Again?" about her struggle with getting older, and it got me thinking again about what I was thinking about last night as I was trying to go to bed (deep breath), and that is...

I'm older and not cool at all anymore.

Now, I know this is inevitable and aging is not a choice. I actually don't mind aging, the actual number of years I have been on this earth. My birthdays are never depressing for me. I love my birthday!! Forty is in my near-future and my husband turns 40 this year, but I am pretty okay with it. What I am not okay with is the way my body has changed, how it is harder to get well when I am sick, how my joints hurt, how I can't see when I drive at night, and how my coolness factor has greatly diminished by looney leaps and brainless bounds.

Not cool.

Instead of reading W, Elle or Vogue magazine with the latest runway fashions and "What Your Man Really Thinks About Your Body" sex quizzes, I now curl up in my oversized unsexy sweats to read Family Circle and All You with their coupons for Poise Pads and advertisements for Lane Bryant.

Coolness factor going down.

I saved $20 at the grocery store last week with coupons and I was so happy about it that you would have thought I had achieved world peace.

Not cool.

This morning, I forgot the word for "belt" and last night I had to ask my husband the word for "tongs" because I was trying to tell my son what they were called and I couldn't remember. Two days ago, I almost put coffee in my son's bottle TWICE and I forgot my 2 year old's name for a few seconds last week.

Not cool.

I used to dress very well, had the latest fashions, and I was thin and sort of in shape. Now, I hardly have any clothes left that fit me after having 2 kids, my boobs are like 2 hanging socks with golf balls at the bottom, my stomach is all stretched out from GROWING 2 HUMAN BEINGS, I only might wear a bathing suit if you pay me 2 million dollars, and several times I have left the house and gotten in the car still wearing my house shoes. I am waiting for the day when I forget to put on my pants. I have even forgotten to care about panty lines. Yesterday, I noticed I had terrible panty lines and then realized I hadn't looked at that aspect of my appearance in months. Who knows how many days I had been walking around with 4 butt cheeks instead of two?

Really not cool.

I do wonder sometimes if my best days are behind me. Not just as far as my appearance goes, but also as far as fun goes. My twenties were the bomb. I had some very hard times in my 20's, but I also had so much fun and made a lot of great memories. I was unattached, fairly irresponsible, and I absolutely knew how to have a good time!

I can't really say that about my 30's. My 30's have been tough and, for the most part, not very fun. I wouldn't mind if I forgot most of my thirties. I have had some wonderful life-changing events in my 30's, like getting married and giving birth to my perfect sons (yes, I said PERFECT), but my 30's have also been very challenging and disappointing and I haven't laughed much this decade.

I have spent much of this decade feeling unprepared and stressed and overwhelmed.

In my mother's blog post, she talks about her stress coming out in her dreams, and mine have as well. Two nights ago, I had a dream that I agreed to sing at a charity event and then forgot I agreed to do it, so when the night of the charity event came, I panicked when I realized I was completely unprepared and didn't know the music or the words to the song (which was, ironically, "If I Could Turn Back Time" by Cher...).

Anyway, I can try to get my body back when my kids stop wearing me the hell out, I'm afraid my coolness is gone forever, but I sure hope the fun isn't gone forever, too. My version of fun would be different these days - it used to be wearing a super cute outfit and going out to dinner and drinks and maybe hit a few bars with my friends. Now, my version of fun would be having endless amounts of money at Disneyworld with my family and a full-time nanny in tow.

Not cool. I know.

If I had a housekeeper, well, that would be so much fun that it might push me to the brink of blissful happiness. Forget cute outfits, nights out on the town, and vacations - I will settle for a good push-up bra and someone to clean my boy-ridden toilets. I hate how boys (and I am including grown men in this) can't seem to pee IN the toilet. How big of a target do they need?

Ah, bliss.

I need an interpreter to talk to my husband

Men. Women. Mars. Venus. Made of snails and puppy dog tails. Made of everything nice.

Opposites.

So, the communication breakdown between my husband and I is sometimes...well...maddening.

It can make me want to rip off my skin and go running into the river with a ball and chain tied to my ankles.

Yesterday was no exception.

Yesterday, we had to drive, in separate cars, 45 minutes away to our son's ENT tubes consultation. My husband knew how to get there and I did not.

I asked him to tell me which exit we take off the interstate in case we got separated. He said, "Not sure of the number. Just follow me."

My husband drives long distances for a living, so he is used to flying down the interstate and not waiting for anyone.

Which is exactly what he did when I was supposed to be following him.

He switched lanes to pass an RV that was pulling a trailer at a time when I couldn't switch lanes behind him - there was a line of cars coming too fast toward me in the passing lane. So, I had to wait. And wait. And wait.

By the time I passed the RV, I couldn't even see my husband's car anymore. So, I called him on his cell.

"Where are you??!! I can't even see your car in front of me!"

"What, are you driving backwards or did you just turn around and go home?"

(sarcasm not appreciated)

"I couldn't get around the RV! You switched lanes and didn't pay attention to see if I could follow."

"You could have switched lanes."

"No, I couldn't have."

"How fast are you going?"

"70"

"Can't you go 75 or 80?"

"No, because our infant son is in the backseat!"

My husband speeds. I do not. He hates driving with me.

"I'll just pull over and wait for you."

"You can't just pull over on the interstate! I'll pass you! Just stay on the phone with me and tell me the number of the exit when you find it!"

"You don't think I could catch up to you? I'll just pull over."

"No, just tell me the exit number."

About that time, I passed him. He had pulled over on the shoulder.

"Why did you pull over? I told you not to!"

"This is just easier. This way you can stop panicking. Just follow me."

"Don't lose me this time! Pay attention, please!"

etc. You get the idea. I also have no sense of direction, if you hadn't figured that out.

Anyway, when it was time to leave the ENT's office, I couldn't remember how to get back to the interstate. My husband was going to work and wasn't driving back into town with me.

"How do I get back to the interstate?"

"Just get on this road here and follow it to the highway. Then turn left."

"What road?"

"This road right here! The one I am pointing at."

"I don't see how to get to that road."

"Just back your car out and turn left, then right. The entrance to the road is right here!"

"Where?! I don't see it!"

"Do you see that car? See that car driving down the road? See it? That is the road. It is right in front of us."

"Ooooohhh! I thought you were talking about that road over there over the hill!"

"Amy. Oh my God. That is a walking trail. Geez."

Yeah, that's what I say. Geez.

That is one serious baby you've got there

So, "That is one serious baby you've got there!" said someone to me at the grocery store. Well, true. He is a pretty serious, sensitive, focused little man. The complete opposite of my older son. Max, my 2 year old, would laugh and smile at anything as a baby, and still does! Anything! He was easily distracted, never cried if we took a toy away from him, and always smiled at strangers.


Harry, on the other hand, will smile after you work at a for a little while, he is incredibly focused and cries if you take a toy away from him. He wants only THAT toy and no other toy will do. He cries when strangers stare at him. And he would love it if I could hold him ALL THE TIME.

Max is a happy-go-lucky Leo and Harry is a contemplative Virgo.

Maybe that is why he always looks like he is serious. He is just in deep, deep, analytical thought.

Of course, I have plenty of pictures of him smiling, too. But, I love his little contemplative face. I wonder what he is thinking about. Probably what an awesome mom he has. Yea, that's probably it.

Calling All Plastic Surgeons

O.M.G.

The infant boy cashier at Walmart just asked me if my 7-month old son is my grandchild.

"Is this your grandbaby?"

"Um...no, my BABY."

"Boy or girl?"

(I thought the outfit might give it away - an army green camo print.)

"Boy."

"How old?"

"7 months"

"Time sure does fly by fast, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes it does." (apparently faster than I thought)

I had a horrid flashback to the time an elderly security guard at the mall asked me if my sister (who is only 19 months younger than me) was my daughter. And this happened before I had kids.

And then, this morning, my husband told me that I dress like a nun.

"You dress like a nun, now. You don't show off your body anymore."

"What am I going to show off? My deflated boobs or my stretched out stomach? I had two kids in a little over 2 years. Give me a break."

"You could show off your legs?"

"Okay. The next time I have the opportunity to wear a mini skirt and go to a Bon Jovi concert, I will. But, until then, I have to be a little more practical."

Men. I don't see him wearing a mini skirt while he bends over to heft up loads of my laundry or while he chases our 2 year old around the backyard.

So, according to the cashier and my husband, I look old enough to play the Mother Abbess in the Sound of Music.

Looks like I'd better start learning the words to "Climb Every Mountain." And soon. Does anyone have the sheet music I can borrow?

rEcess!

So, last week, Max went to his first rEcess night!

rEcess is a monthly respite night provided for special-needs children twelve and under. It gives the parents of these children a night out and provides the children with tons of fun!! Each child is assigned an adult "buddy" for the night so that each child gets one-on-one attention.

rEcess was initiated by 99 Balloons, a non-profit organization started by Matt and Ginny Mooney after their son, Eliot, passed away from Trimsomy 18 after 99 days on this earth. They released 99 balloons at his funeral. If you would like to read more about 99 Balloons or rEcess, click here.

Max had a GREAT time!! He is ALWAYS happy to see me when I show up, but when I picked him up from rEcess, he threw his body on the floor and started crying! He cried all the way home in the car, saying, "I want go back! I want go back!" When we got home, he refused to get out of the car. I had to drag him in the house kicking and screaming. He cried in the house and didn't want us to touch him. He didn't calm down until he saw that Blue's Clues was on and then he started to dry his tears and sit on my lap. It is hard to explain to a 2 yr old that he will get to go back, just not for another month.

He was also exhausted when he got home. rEcess lasts from 6-10 pm, and even though I picked him up at 8:30, he was still beyond tired! He had so much fun!!

I am so grateful for this program. Not only does it give my husband and I time to give Harry, or each other, some undivided attention, but it also provides Max with an evening of fun, playing, and socializing. As his parents, we don't have to explain his behavior there. If he is aggressive, overstimulated, hyperactive, or has a meltdown, the volunteers know why and they expect it. It gives us such peace of mind to know that he is in a place where he is completely accepted and understood.

He loved it and the kindness of the volunteers that make this evening possible are the best kind of angels.