One Bad Mother

So, I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that my two-year-old can use the word "reciprocity" correctly.

Good, because he needs to know about reaping what you sow. If he wants me to respect him, he needs to treat me with respect, too. Which is something we struggle with on many a day.

I only sing the first and last verses (I leave out all the risque parts in the middle) but still. At least it keeps me sane.

Giggle Pie

I wish this blog had sound. I wish you could hear the Seth's chortle as he sits on my lap and watches the wind ruffle the leaves on the maple tree across the street. He sounds a little bit like those tubes that moo when you flip them over. The pattern goes like this: Inhale. Wheeze out a slow laugh on the exhale, "Heeehhh" then finish with a giggle, "heh heh heh heh heh."

Not a bad way to spend an afternoon, all told.

Do You Ever ...

Have a day where both babies wake up grumpy and you try as hard as you can to be cheery, but you really just want them to stop screaming so you can have a cup of coffee?

And then you finally get the screaming monsters dressed and into the car to go to a meeting that's supposed to make you feel better, but it doesn't, because the speaker is a breast cancer survivor and her speech makes you cry?

And then she talks about the importance of prevention and hands out little breast self-exam cards to help you remember, and you feel guilty because you know you never do your self-exam?

It's not that you forget to do them; it's just that both your mother and grandmother had breast cancer, and you are so afraid you will find a lump that you figure it's better just not to know. Do you ever feel really stupid for thinking that?

And then you have to leave the meeting early because the babies won't stop crying and won't stay in childcare?

Does it ever happen that while you are trying to fix lunch for your two screaming babies, you realize your breast pads have failed, and your entire shirt is soaked with milk? And then the dog barks to be let out, so you let him out, only to watch him run away through the unlatched back gate, towards the high school, where the teenagers are getting out for lunch?

So then you have to leave both children in the house, unattended, while you run down the street in bare feet and a milk-soaked shirt, trying to catch the dog before he gets hit by a car or picked up by the police?

Then when you come home you wonder if trading in your job as a mediocre reporter to be a mediocre mother and housewife was a good idea? At least you got paid for being a reporter. Plus, you could actually quit that job.

Do you ever wonder how you can spend all day picking up and straightening up and trowing crap away, and yet your house never appears neat, clean or uncluttered?

Do you ever have a day like that?

Uncle Donald's

When I found my toddler in a full-on lip lock with a 6-foot fiberglass clown, I realized it might be time to change the family eating habits.

Keep reading at Crunchable.

Moving On

There is a 53-foot moving van outside my house, and Tommy, my 2-year-old son, is plastered to the front door.

“Moving van!” he says, trying to press himself through the glass and onto the front porch, where he will be two feet closer to the biggest truck he has ever seen.

I wish I could close the front door and make the truck vanish.

Keep reading at Crunchable.

What I Learned at Dinner Tonight

When we pray before dinner, we close by thanking "the Fadder, Swon, and Howy Spit."

Dinner is best accompanied by "pwo-no" music such as "woa woa boat" which is sung in "wownds."

Tom likes "penny pata" with alfredo sauce and "bwoccoli." He also likes "zoo-kee-nee quash!"

He loves "huggins" but will not say "I wuv you" unless prompted, one syllable at a time.

He's such a boy.

A True American Idol

Just call him Sanjaya ...