GRRRRR

Oh my, you all probably don't care but I am getting so frustrated! Is it too much to ask to find a maternity swimming-suit with an underwire? Not all (in fact probably most) pregnant women are not these teeny little pebble-boobs that will fit in a shelf bra. We're pack with milk and we need some support so we don't have the appearance of milk cows. Come on people, it's not rocket science!

Mood Swingin' Momma

Hey, just to keep you up-to-date, if you don't want to get snapped at by a jagged toothed alligator or singed from a fierce fire-breathing dragon just stay away from this pregnant mom. I don't know what my problem is. I guess my hormones are just riding a roller-coaster. I can't seem to keep it together for very long periods of time. My poor kids. The darling boy keeps reminding me, "Take a deep breath, mommy, it will be okay" How true that is. He is a little angel (most of the time). He is also doing so good (knock on wood) with the potty training thing! It took a few weeks, but I think that he has it down now. I'm sure the girl won't be too far behind. She really does have to do everything the boy does. Well, until next time...

ROAAAARRRRRRRRRRR...

Quote of the week

The boy had once asked me what happens to all the food after we eat it. I told him that it goes into our bellies and then goes all through our bodies to make us strong and give us energy. I then told him that if there was anything left that our bodies couldn't use, we would pee or poop it out.

I guess it's amazing what kids hang on to.

The boy was peeing in the toilet the other day. After he's finished, I usually wait a few seconds because a little more will usually squirt out. So I waited and waited. Finally I said, "Can you go some more bud?"

He simply said "No. There's no more lunch. It's all gone mommy."

This is it

Well, I guess I received my answer (at least most of it) to the question stated in the last post. "Why do I continue to do this?"
Later today as I pulled out the top rack of the dishwasher to start putting the clean dishes away, the boy eyed his very own little tea-cup. He looked at the teacup and asked loudly, "Is my teacup clean mommy?"
"Yes, buddy, it is clean now,"
His eyes got big as he threw his arms around me and shouted, "Thank you mommy, Thank you for cleaning my teacup!!!!"

Now whoever said being a mom is a thankless job?

Days like these

I wake up feeling great this morning. Really energetic and feeling like I'm really going to get things done today.

I make french-toast for breakfast.
I get the kids dressed.
I take my husband to work.
I come back home, finish loading the dishwasher and wash all the remaining dishes (that have been hanging around since last week might I add).
I throw a load of laundry in the wash and dry the clothes in the washer.
I vacuum downstairs.
I vacuum the steps. (They were crying out from the dust).
I spend a few minutes and play with the children.
I make a few calls that needed to be made.

I finally decide it's time to get dressed and do something with the mop on my head.
I find the one (supposedly clean) pair of pants that fit me
(I have two; the others are in the wash).
As I unfold them to get dressed I notice a fine toddler delicacy firmly encrusted in the seat of the pants. I try to scrape it off with my fingernail. There's still too much left over. I throw them in the laundry. Back into sweats.

All of this is in-between spilled orange juice, potty reminders and "leave your sister alone"s.

Finally I see the boy start the shy backing toward a hiding spot where he will do more than I want him to (IN HIS UNDERWEAR).
I enthusiastically say that it's time to go potty and he needs to remember to poop on the potty. I lead him by the hand (quickly) to the toilet, where I place him gently while I take his underwear off. He has started a little something in his underwear, but it's not much.
I tell myself, while it is a little upsetting that he didn't tell me he had to go, I can handle a teeny amount of poop and things are still okay.

Well before I even get the underwear under the water to begin washing them, the girl (who has been uncharacteristically quiet) runs in to me screaming "Hiams, hiams!!!!" (which is to interpret: hands, hands!!!!). I look to see what all the ado is about and the girl has poo smeared all over her hands, arms, legs, onesie and shirt.
Yes.
HER POO.
She was pooping in the other room and decided she would explore the ins and outs of her diaper. I strip her down throw her poop encrusted cloths in the laundry. Clean her dirty, smelly diaper and wash her down and spray her off in the tub. The boy is still on the potty. I quickly wash his underwear and throw those in the laundry too.

I take a step back and survey the damage. While I was thinking I was getting so much work done this morning, the kids have overturned 3 toy boxes, a pack of triangle flash cards and a bag of dinosaurs. My house looks worse than it did. I have already accumulated enough laundry for another load. Two steps ahead, five steps behind. It's not even lunchtime yet. It's days like these I really have to step back, look deep into the eyes of my beautiful children and remember why I continue to do this.

Welcome to motherhood.