Drug Tested

I am happy to report that a member of our family is finally employed. It is with great sadness that I report that it is me. Yes me.  I am the newest employee of that great Mecca that is Target.  Now I will be leaving my full-time job at home to go work  part-time at the store. The difference is that the Target job pays over 800 percent more than being a stay at home mom. The money is crap, but at least it's something. We need something these days.

My new job is contingent on me passing a drug test. A drug test! Me? A 39-year-old stay at home mom? What do they think? That I am meeting the other moms behind the jungle gym and smoking me some reefer? Drug test? Seriously? Yes seriously. I am handed paper work and given directions to the clinic. I drive to the clinic in a shady part of Massachusetts....called Rhode Island (Hey all you RI reader I am just kidding. No I am not). I go in to the clinic and get called into a room. A nice nurse checks my ID and explains the procedure. She takes my pocketbook and pats me down. To make sure that I am not concealing any container filled with pee. We are still potty training at home, I have way too much of that particular substance all over my house. I am not going to carry the stuff around with me.

Then she led me into a little bathroom. Where she dropped a blue fizzy pellet into the toilet to dye the water blue and handed me a cup. She told me that I had to fill the cup and that I couldn't flush. I asked why but the nurse wasn't allowed to tell me. For some reason I found her reluctance kind of exciting. As I started to fill the cup I wondered did the nurse think that I might be a criminal on parole? Or just a dangerous woman living on the edge? A woman with a questionable past? Maybe when people see me they see more then just a boring middle aged mom? Hey, once I was cool. I did naughty gritty things. I was tough. I was cool. Oh crap I am peeing on my hand!

I opened the door and put the cup in her gloved hands. She thanked me and asked what company I was testing for. How did she know? I saddly I told her the store was Target. She then labeled the samples and told me that I should be all set. Then she told me why they dye the water blue. She knew that I was a goody-two-shoes suburban mom. I was so disappointed. I bet I could walk through airport customs holding a bong and no one would even look at me twice. Hey I should try it. Too bad that I don't know anyone who still has a bong...

The Sky Is Falling

Today my kids and I are at the Silver Lake park. This park is a new favorite of my kids because of the tall two story play structure with four slides that Dylan named the Eiffel Tower.  I am standing under the Eiffel Tower chit-chatting with my friend when I feel a bug land on my head. I scream and shake my head as my hands frantically flap at my head. Then I feel another thud on my hair, my shoulder and then on my back. I look on the ground and see little orange goldfish crackers falling out of my hair on to the ground. Then I looked up and see more little fish raining down from the the sky. Then I hear giggling.

"DYLAN!"  I scream. "Come down here!" Dylan slides down the big slide holding a bag of Goldfish crackers and laughing.

"Dylan! Give me that bag..." I say grabbing the bag from his hands. 

"Mom what the heck."

"No more fish for you."

"Mom. I am hungry."

"You were dropping them on my head!"

"I know." He says and starts laughing.

"You can not drop things on people's heads. Especially mine! No more fish for you."

"You never told me that...what the heck...I didn't know that I wasn't allowed to do it."

"You didn't know that you are not supposed to drop food on people's heads?"

I was partly amused and partly horrified.  He didn't get more fish. However I now have a lot of work to do tonight making a list of things that  my son can not do. Here are a few examples. 

• Flooding the bathrooms and making the house into and indoor water park.
• Putting his sister in the dryer.
• Using my laptop as a base for backyard baseball.
• Putting peanut butter on the dog.
• Bitch slap his teacher.
• Using my bra as a bowling ball slingshot.  

If you can think of any other things that my son isn't allowed to do please let me know.

 

Are You There June? It's Me Lydia

Here is the deal June...I have no idea what I am doing. There I said it. I am being honest. I have these children living here in my house and suddenly I am supposed to have all of the right answers. I never had any idea what I was doing before I had children why should that change now? Did I miss a study that proved that lack of sleep, stress, extra weight and chaos actually leads too better decision making? Because I would beg to differ.

My newest dilemma is potty training. I have been potty training Alice for the last couple of days and it sucks. She is peeing all over town and I don't know what to do? I ask the most qualified mothers that I know...my friends. After all they have kids that are potty trained so they must know the secret of a success, yes? No! A third of my friends tell me that I am doing the right thing and that I should persevere. A third of my friends tell me to stop give myself a break and try again later. Then their is the third of my friends who are just sick of hearing and reading about my daughter's bodily fluid production and wish that I would just knock it off. I partly agree with all of them. I would love to push her through the wetness and make this work. I would love to put her back in diapers, rent a rug steamer, and call it a day. But not as much as I would love to never speak of this again and have electroshock therapy to erase all the smelly memories. Now that I said that what do I do? What is the right thing to do?

Isn't this where June Cleaver is supposed to appear from a bubble wearing wings and sporting a magical feather duster? In my fantasy she'd tell me that she is my Fairy Good Mother. That she was sent here to clean and organize my house, fill up my freezer with home cooked gourmet meals, and teach me the secret of how to be a good mother. She'd twirl around her magical feather duster and POOF. My house would look like a warm stylish home and smell like freshly baked bread. June would serve coffee on a cute little tray as I sit on the non-pee stained couch. She would make me a cup hand it to me with the perfect mix of sugar and half & Half. She'd smile as I take a sip put the cup down. Then she would lean in and say. "Now dear. I am ready to tell you the secret of how to be a good mother."

I would lean in so I wouldn't miss a single word. She'd grab me by my face and yell. "Buck up buttercup no mother knows what she is doing. We all just put on our big girl panties and try not to screw the kids up too much." Then she winked and poof she's be gone.

I'd sit there on the couch and realize that I am already the best mother that I can be and that I should give myself a break. But I am me so I am still stressed and now I am craving coffee

Wade In The Water

Why am I torturing my child? Day two of cold turkey diaper training. First thing this morning I gave up. My little girl told told me that she wanted her diapers that she was done being a big girl. I was relieved. I agreed. What? I hadn't even had coffee yet. I put her back in diapers and hoped that no one actually read yesterdays blog. Obviously she is not ready? Right?

Alice and I went to meet friends at the park after we dropped Dylan off at school. My friends had both read the blog and were horrified about my surrender. They refused to let me and Alice off easy. They got me so motivated that I took off Alice's diaper right there at the play ground.
Fast forward to 3:30pm. Dave is taking the kids to the YMCA while I he works out and while I run errands. We all plan to meet up on the YMCA field for Alice's back to school BBQ at 5:00pm. I am a potty pessimist so I pack two changes of clothing, one for each hour. Considering the fact that she did her business from both ends before she left I was feeling great.

I finish my errands early and get to the YMCA at 4:45. Alice has been there for a little over an hour and I find Dave on the verge of tears. Alice has peed through one outfit and soiled the other one beyond description. Dave looks like he has been bikini waxing. I sent him back to finish his work out by the time I went back to sign out the kids from child care....Alice had a curious large wet spot on her behind. Seriously?
I look at my darling girl. "Honey? What happened?"

"On Momma, I wet."

"You know that we have no more clothes? Now you have to go to the BBQ wet. Okay?"

I brace for the screaming..."Okay Momma" She says with a huge smile.
The kids and I go out back to the BBQ. Alice's doesn't seem to mind that she has a huge pond on the back of her skirt. I am a little nervous that her teachers will tell me that she is not welcome at school. Or that other mothers might give me those looks. The worse is when they come over and tell you that your daughter has wet herself...How do you respond? My gosh! When did she do that. Alice! Come here? Bad girl!

No one said anything about the pond and eventually the back dried in the sun. We stayed at the BBQ for about an hour. You guessed it. Just as we were about to leave and even larger pond appears on the front of her skirt. How big can this kids bladder be? How much wetness can a little body produce. Did her dad stop and buy her a gallon of water?

This time she did care and she tried many times to remove the wet garment. When I didn't let her she came up with her own solution. She poured my water down the front of her shirt making it match the spot on the skirt.

I am asking you my loyal audience. Should I put this kid back in diapers or stay strong? Am I wasting my time? Will I have to buy her enough clothing for 19 changes a day? Help me!

Mom Vs. The Potty

Dylan started 1st grade today. Alice's starts nursery school in a week. Seven days. 168 hours. For some dumb reason I decided that since Alice is going to start big girl school that she should be in big girl underwear. Yes we are potty training and we are serious. We only have 168 hours before school.

Over the last few months I have tried and failed miserably at potty training Alice. This time I am trying a radical method I call Wetsy Betsy. I have taken away the diapers during the day. She is in her big girl panties until she is trained. End of story. This time I am not giving in or giving up. In the past I have given up after especially horrific accidents. Take my word for it that on hot days the smell still reminds me of her past failures. We should use her college fund to recarpet the house. That would be mean I'll just wait and get my revenge when I am an incontinent old woman.

 

This afternoon I gave Alice the pep talk about being a big girl and psyched her all up for her new Disney Princess underwear. She was a trooper. She went and got all of the diapers and brought them into the living room. She was so proud. She said. "Diapers only for night night."

"Yes sweetie."

"I big girl."

"Yes sweetie."

"I wear underwear."

"Yes sweetie." I was so excited. Maybe she is ready. Maybe she will do it? Oh the money we will save and no more comments from relatives and friends about her diapers. I am a good mother.

 

Alice Dylan and I go to the YMCA for Alice's back to school BBQ. We get there and yet again mommy is wrong. The BBQ is on Wednesday. We go to the YMCA to play for a while. We walk into their favorite kid's gym room and with in five minutes Alice is yelling.

 

"Mommy! I pee!" I am thankful that I have a change of clothes in my bag. I knew that she would have few accidents. We go into the bathroom and I change her pants. Not so bad she just peed a little. I put her on the toilet. Nothing....she is empty. Then we go back out to play. About 20 minutes later.."Momma you change me?" She stands up and she is drenched down both legs. I am not giving up. We leave to go home. Alice limps out legs spread a part arms out to balance. The poor wet thing looks like a star fish. By the time I get her home she has also done the unthinkable. She has added a nose hair singeing present to the mess. Dear God give me strength.

I will not give up.

I will not give up.

I will not give up.

Crayon Melt Down

Tonight is the night before the first day of school and I am flipping out. This is supposed to be the happiest day of my year. Why am I so upset. I have lost of my crayons! I have lost 30 boxes of Crayola 24 pack crayons. People who kow me well know two things. First thing is that I hate being late. I can not be late. When I am running late I get all mush brained and start to panic. The night before I got married I forgot to bring an alarm to the Inn. I was so terrified about being late for my wedding that I stayed up all night. I have serious issues with being late. However those issues are a drop in the bucket of crazy compared to how psychotic I get when I loose something. Which doesn't happen to often.
Now here I am the night before the first day of school and I have not just lost one little box of Crayola 24 crayons, but I have misplaced thirty boxes. Thirty! Who does that? Before I explain how much I have torn my house apart looking for these colorful wax devil's tools. Let me explain why I bought thirty boxes of crayons in the first place.



Every year Walmart and Target sell crayons for .25 cents. I buy between twenty and thirty boxes to give away at the kid's birthday parties in November. Last year I felt so smart as I handed out the kids $1.25 birthday favors, a coloring book for a dollar and .25 box of crayons and not Rose art crap ones, but quality Crayola. I am a genius! Or so I thought.


This year I bought a record thirty boxes and as I put them i the cart Dylan yelled out. "Yes! New crayons!" I reminded him that one of these boxes was being saved for school and the rest were being saved for Alice and his birthdays. Then the boy mocked me. He said. "Yeah until I find them. I always know where you hide them."



Oh no he didn't? My sweet golden haired boy? I decided right then and there that I would hide these crayons so well that he would never find them. How dare he think that he is smarter than me! I made him for goodness sakes. He was just and egg until I grew him! I am the leader of this dog pack!
When we got home from Walmart I waited until Dylan was watching TV then I packed the crayons in a bag and ran them down stairs into the basement. I hid them so well that he will never ever find them and never ever doubt the power of mommy!


Fast forward three weeks and a trashed basement later and I can not find the damn crayons! I am running the risk of sending my first grader to school with out crayons. This has never happened before in the history of the first grade. What makes this crisis worse is that the boy keeps asking me where his crayons are. Now the boy is in bed dreaming of his first day and I am living in a night mare covered in dust on the verge of tears because I can not find them! How can I have lost them? I live in a very small house and this is a big bag! I need ice-cream! I need cool whip! Where is the cool whip? Where are the crayons? Help! I am crying and hyperventilating!



15 minutes later...


What? Oh....Dave found the crayons...I hid them in his office in the basement way up on the top of his book shelf. They were hidden behind my balanced calm and appropriate 39-year-old personality. I have been looking for that too. Okay I guess I am all set for tomorrow.

The Count Down

10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-

Two more days until lift off! 48 hours until the kids go back to school. I can smell my freedom. No more listening to my son whine about how their is nothing to do. How can a kid sit in a room full of toys and be still be bored?

Heck, my son and daughter sat on beautiful beaches and complained about being bored or fought. This summer turned my children into a married couple. They had this love hate relationship. They started the summer out by playing nicely together. I would often see them playing on the swings and laughing. Then by the middle of the summer they were bickered over who got the most jimmies on their ice-cream cone. Now they can barely play in the same room for five minutes before someone is screaming, sometimes them sometimes me. I am afraid that they are now on their way to divorce and I am on my way to crazy. School is starting up not a moment to soon. I think exactly what we all need now is a separation. They need time to spend time away playing with their own friends. Alice needs little girls to play dolls with and Dylan needs littler boys to tell fart jokes to. I need time to piece together my sanity. Perhaps after a few months they can rekindle their love or at least stop driving me bonkers.

I too need to rekindle my love of  my chosen profession. Motherhood. I love my kids but like cookies too much of a good thing can make a person throw up. Even if the kids are sweet like cookies a lot of the time. I still need some time away to Elmer's glue my brain back together and remember why I gave up my life for this the hardest job that I have ever done in my life, not to mention for free. Dylan goes back on Tuesday cutting my work load in half! Alice goes back the following Tuesday. She is only going to be in school two days a week. Leaving me five child free hours a week. I am drunk with the possibilities! Five whole hours to be me again. Maybe I'll work out? Maybe I'll nap, maybe I'll just drink ice coffee naked in the middle of the living room? Just becasue I can!  The first kid is in the final count down the launch sequence has begun!  Two days til blast off!