Molly 1; Carrots 0

Let it be known: you cannot force feed carrots to an unwilling preschooler who can puke on demand. Just for the record.

Priceless

Cost of corn on the cob at Kroger - 4 for $2

Cost of corn on the cob after being digested in about 7.2 seconds by stupid large dog who takes mostly-eaten ear of corn from cackling toddler who gleefully tosses food scraps to furry beggar -- FOUR HUNDRED FORTY SEVEN DOLLARS.

Did you know that dogs aren't supposed to consume entire ears of corn? Oh yes, the whole cob, like it was a dog Twinkie. I could have sensed that this was not the greatest idea ever; however, I was inside cleaning up from dinner and the rest of the family was outside on the patio. Dan even captured the corn-eating extravaganza in photos! Whoo hooo, FUN-NY!!!!

2 hours later, I, slightly concerned, pulled out my Google MD/veterinary license and checked into "dog eat corn cob" -- followed by 12938717865 results of people whose dogs needed emergency surgery for intestinal obstruction and a lot of vet pages that read "this is NOT GOOD. Do NOT let your dog eat a corn cob."

I called the vet this a.m. after panicking all night, hoping they would recommend some kind of doggie laxative or something to speed along the corn-pooping process. Their response -- "oh. That's NOT GOOD. We need to see him. Um, now would be great."

OK...so Grandma and both kids haul the dog in and meet me at the vet. Preliminary x-ray negative, although vet notes "with obstructions, it usually doesn't show on the x-ray."

8 hours later - Murphy has gone through barium testing to look for blockages. Apparently his corn-Hoovering did involve at least a little bit of mastication. He's currently crashed out on the floor looking drained and slightly green around the edges, but otherwise no worse for the wear.

So yes, most expensive damn corn on the face of the earth. Dan is now questioning why we didn't just wait to see if the dog exploded, as he basically received a $447 enema. Hey, so did our wallet!

Nice things - a fairy tale

Once upon a time there was a little girl who dreamed of growing up and living in an elegant home surrounded by nice things with a decor that hinted at Pottery Barn and Restoration Hardware with a touch of Crate and Barrel thrown in for fun. She got older and got married and people bought her all kinds of nice things as wedding gifts to fill her elegant home, which she had to admit was not shaping up quite as she had pictured, what with her marital first home being approximately the size of an elf's shoebox and already inhabited by her new husband whose style was a little less Pottery Barn and a little more Pots of Old Mac and Cheese on Stove meets Crates He Used in College Dorm Room to Prop Up Nintendo. She received lovely gifts like this Wilton Armetale Reggae silver bowl, retail price $70, which she envisioned using to entertain as she hosted festive parties attended by a colorful group of friends.

Then she had children, and realized that nice things are for single people.

This is how her $70 silver bowl is used today.

Clearly still being enjoyed by a colorful group of friends. The shoebox house has been traded in for yuppie 4BR digs, and the decor has deteriorated from Early Bachelor to Disorganized Newlyweds With Hope to Continuous Regurgitation of Toys and Sippy Cups. It's possible the Big Bad Wolf might try to huff and puff and blow down the house, but he'd probably break his neck tripping on the wiffle ball bat on the front step or the rock collection that HAS TO reside across the front door frame.

At least the mailman still brings the Pottery Barn catalog, and a girl can still dream. Right?

The end.

saying 10 Hail Marys and a prayer to the valium gods

We are about to embark on our first family vacation...road tripping to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for a week-long stay with my imaginary friends. Well, really they're my internet Mommy friends, and I've met all of them, but this will be the first time the husbands and kids will all be thrown together for a week of beach, booze and secretly praying that our kid is not "THAT kid" all week who gets you thrown out of tourist spots and overpriced restaurants.

I have agreed (have to justify all that therapy somehow) to let Dan do some of the driving, so I will be praying and pill popping and trying not to have a nervous breakdown on the side of the turnpike. If you never hear from me again, I either ran away permanently to a land of sand, surf and no small children or Dan threw me out the window at a truck stop.

Apparently the kid licks toadstools.

I swear to God I did not take illegal drugs while pregnant with this child.

Last night in the bathtub Molly told me, "Mommy, last night I was dreaming about TWELVE DOLPHINS jumping over BACTERIA!!! Bacteria is like GERMS, but it's so small you can't even SEE it. Unless you cough it out."





Uh....

We finally wrapped up Molly's birthday hanukkah extravaganza this weekend, after drawing out her 4th birthday for three weeks. This weekend was her "kid party," aided by her patient if not a bit overwhelmed and slightly frightened godparents who don't have kids. We probably effectively set back any potential procreation plans a good year or two with the combination of weekend-long scream fest from Natalie the tri-molar screech monkey and concentrated attack of small humans laced with sugar and pizza. No injuries though, pretty good kid diplomacy all around, and minimal destruction of our house so I consider that a success.

Molly is gearing up for a future career in used car sales. EVERYTHING with that kid is freakin' negotiation. You can't just say "Molly, you need to finish your applesauce" without getting "Whoa whoa whoa WHOA, Mommy. Alright alright, how about THIS...I'll eat HALF of my applesauce AND two greenbeans and then I get some more french fries. Is that a DEAL??" I love the logistics of her bargaining.

Me: "Three more bites"
Molly: "No, ONE more bite"
Me: "THREE MORE BITES"
Molly: "Okayokayo-KAAAAY!! SIX MORE, and THAT'S IT. You GOT IT??"

She also apparently has been reading self help books when we're not looking. All of a sudden she's all concerned that her friend "is NOT giving me my PERSONAL SPACE, MOMMY!!!! I need some PRIVACY TIME ALONE, OKAY!???"

This weekend at her party she announced while on the potty that I should close the door, "because I need some PRIVACY to go poop mommy. ONLY MY FRIEND ANNIKA can be in here wif me." Apparently social pooping is exciting to 3 and 4 year olds. Who knew. She is also highly concerned about Murphy having "privacy time" when he has to poop outside. Yet I'd like to know what happens to privacy time when Mommy has to go potty? Because apparently there is a sign on the door only visible to people under 4 feet tall that says "PLEASE come on in!!! Mommy is lonely!! She would love to have a puppet show with you and watch the baby shred the contents of the trash can while trying to find 30 seconds in which she can use the restroom without assistance!!!!"

Handprint pictures, bodily functions and other mother's gifts

There are (many) days when I look in the mirror and cannot fathom that this person who used to go to class in a t-shirt and flannel, head out to the bar at 11 pm, sleep til noon and shave her legs on a regular basis is now at least 50 percent responsible for the continued survival of two actual human beings. ACK. It's absolutely wild to consider that Mother's Day applies to ME, and that I now have my own collection of laminated handprint artwork and amorphous things made out of spray painted pasta products.

Today's gifts included diarrhea (small human being #1), vomit - in the car, of course (small human being #2), waking up at 6:15 am (oh, so not amused, S.H.B #1).

Some other musings in honor of Mother's Day:

• Being a mom means that you have given up all expectations of going to the bathroom without an audience, albeit an audience that absolutely appreciates the end result ("WOW, Mommy, that's a LOT OF PEE!! DADDY!!! Come look at this!!!!")
• Being a mom of girls does not mean you are raising little ladies, at least not if Dan is their father. Imagine the pride I have when Dan not only subjects us to gaseous assaults - but Molly then chimes in "NICE one, Daddy!" and attempts to add her own punctuation. Tonight she spent 5 minutes making herself burp. Charming.
• I have excelled as a mommy in the acceptance and openness I've taught my children. Case in point from Molly: "Daddy, I LOVE you. Even if you are really stinky."
• Certain things are inevitable as a mom. You are going to get pooped, peed and thrown up on. Sometimes all at once. And you just deal. And you always have extra clothes. For everyone, even you.
• Dance recitals really suck when you are no longer the one dancing.
• At least for several more years, you will not get to blow out your own candles or open your own presents for ANYTHING. And "blowing out the candles" more specifically means "expelling spittle all over the cake surface, which has already been germ-breached by nasty kid fingers that were stuck in the icing about 30 seconds after being stuck up their own or their sibling's or the dog's nose"
• Whoever invented Purell should win the Noble prize in chemistry.
• It's OK to really, really REALLY HATE "Goodnight Moon." I mean, HATE IT.
• Cool moms let their 4 year old watch Star Wars instead of Sponge Bob and plant the seeds for a lifelong hatred of the Yankees.
• The anxiety and depression you may have experienced in college or your 20s is nothing compared to the brick wall that can fall and crush you while you're incubating a baby or when this needy, irrational being actually takes up residence in your life.
• You will never worry or panic about yourself to 1/1000th of the degree that you will about your children.

Happy Mother's Day to everyone who is a mom or just drives one crazy.

Natalie has survived one whole year

Amazingly, the littlest monster has turned one year old, despite Molly's best efforts to suffocatingly love/squeeze/antagonize/push/"help"/run over the extremities of her little sister. I think at this time next year Molly will be in sad, sad shape when Natalie realizes she can, in fact, retaliate. Natalie is a bruiser, about as big as Molly was at 18 months (although then again, Natalie was twice her size at birth). She is about the happiest baby on the face of the earth, despite her penchant for waking up at 4 am to share her happiness with her very, very grumpy mommy. She has about an inch and a half of hair - again, Molly didn't hit that point til about 2. Despite 18 bins of perfectly re-usable girly clothes of every size under the sun, I am unable to stop buying more really, really cute and EXTREMELY necessary clothing items for Natalie and I have turned into one of those moms who swore they would never dress their kids alike (until they actually had two kids, and realized it's really damn fun and no one is old enough to argue with me. yet.)

Natalie is a lot more adventurous with food, and probably already eats more real-people food than her sister (which would be anything outside the realm of processed chicken nuggets, pepperoni, french fries, milk and Tostitos). I can actually hear Caitlin screaming all the way from Ann Arbor when she reads that list ;) No recognizable words yet (from the baby - Caitlin can talk just fine) and she still holds on to things to cruise around but is getting more confident with the drunken-stoner Frankenbaby lurch. Pretty soon she will be running into coffee tables all of her own volition, without any assistance from her helpful big sister.

Since I haven't updated since the Reagan administration, what else is new...Molly is almost 4 and the other day gave me a lecture about cleaning products when I gave her a wet paper towel to help me "clean" the back door.

"Um...Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"How about Clorox Disinfecting Wipes?"

Me: "..." (crickets)

Molly: "Clorox Disinfecting Wipes help kill germs!! And...they don't leave a streaky trail like some other cleaners. Clorox Disinfecting Wipes work great even on your shiny surfaces!"

Me: "WHERE, exactly, did you hear all this??"

Molly: "Oh, the TV told me."

I suppose she is prepping for a career as the announcer on the Price is Right.

Work is busy (not good busy), Dan's work is busy (good busy), school is busy, and the Tigers absolutely suck. That's life in a nutshell!

Darn you Kathy!

One of my most beloved mommy friends has started a blog, with a link here under her "favorites." I suppose this could act as incentive to update this blog more often than...well, never. Hey, who can blame me?? There's so much going on in life!! It's almost Opening Day AND it's the middle of the NCAA tournament!!!! I mean come on, what's a girl supposed to focus on???