I Think I'll Post This Every December 26th

God Bless Us. Every One.

I wanted to give each of you a little something as a thank you for everything you've given me this year. Well, it didn't arrive in time for Christmas. We're all moms here, so I know you'll understand.

For my friends, the someday moms: May your eggs be viable and your uterus be hospitable. Or may you find another way.

For my friends, the gestating moms: May the first and last trimesters go by with ease. May you take the sleep when you can get it. May you savor the miracle.

For my friends, the laboring moms: May your OB be on duty when you go into labor and free with the drugs. May your baby's head be small. May your partner know his place is to shut up and shovel ice chips.

For my friends, the brand new moms: May your baby latch on like a champ and sleep in long stretches. May you shower most days. May your husband have a great paternity leave policy.

For my friends, the mothers of newborns: May your child find a schedule. May he take a bottle, when necessary. May you be there for her first smile.

For my friends, the mothers of infants: May your child sleep through the night. May she be allergy-free. May he be an "easy baby".

For my friends, the mothers of toddlers: May your child not figure out how to open the child proof locks. May she not share food with the dog, then put it back in her mouth. May he not hit the terrible twos before his first birthday.

For my friends, the mothers of preschoolers: May potty training last days, not months. May she not suffer from separation anxiety on the first day of preschool. May he always like you better than his teacher.

For my friends, the mothers of kindergarteners: May your child adjust beautifully to big kid school. May the teacher recogize the uniqueness and individual gifts of your child.

For my friends, the mothers of elementary schoolers: May your child neither bully nor be bullied. May she love learning in all its forms.

For my friends, the mothers of tweens: May your child find his own moral compass. May friends, music, and movies not steal the precious years of childhood innocence.

For my friends, the mothers of high schoolers: May your children's deeds make you proud. May you be their mother first and their friend, second.

For my friends, the mothers of college students: May your children remember your lessons as they take their first fledgling steps to independence. May they make good decisions and know their own minds.

For my friends, the mothers of adults: May your children grow to be intelligent, loving, kind, good, hardworking, humorous parents. And may they take good care of us as we grow old.

For all of us: Though the days are long, the years are short. May we treasure the good ones and run down the clock on the bad ones with humor and love and friendship.

It was either this or a fruitcake.

Please Stand for Our National Anthem

God bless my barista
Man that I love
Stand in line here
Get mine here

Day or night
Venti's right
Chai I love

From the drive thru
To the Target
Back to Starbucks
Light, no foam

God bless my barista
Live in
My home

**Originally posted last year, around this time. I unconsciously sing it almost every (day) time I head there. I'm thinking about the second verse. Any ideas??

Harbinger of Future Gremlinocity

While making up my mind to rename RC, Gremlin, I harkened back this email, which I sent out to a bunch of friends and family in August of 2006. Gremlin was just 16 months old. I should have known...


Subject: My Morning

So I'm sitting on the couch putting on HRH's shoes and getting ready to leave. Gremlin crawls out of the front entry hall heading for the kitchen and I notice that he's got what looks like sunblock all over his arms. I stand up to clean him up and learn that (a) it's all over him and (b) it's not sunblock, it's white paint that I had left in the entry hall while I've been painting the stair risers.

Gremlin had managed to get the cover off a gallon of paint and spilled the ENTIRE thing all over the entry hall rug and a good amount on the floor. He'd then left a trail like a snail stretching from the front door to the kitchen doorway.

As most of you know, we just had all our floors refinished three weeks ago. I didn't even know where to start! I grabbed Gremlin and threw him fully dressed (and covered with paint) into the tub and started filling it while I stripped him.

I then left him upstairs naked while I went down on my hands and knees with a canister of Clorox wipes, a roll of paper towels, and a bath towel.

I got to most of it while it was still wet and it came off fairly easily. The drying stuff came off with the wipes and a little rubbing. The rug is of course a total loss having martyred itself for the floors. Amazingly, there are only few splotches in between the floor boards that I should be able to dig out with a toothpick or similar tool at a later date.

Then I got Gremlin dressed, threw them both in the car, and left for work...

Blacklisted by Jordan's Furniture

With no less than the fate of the free world and the ALCS hanging in the balance, I've been a very absentee blogger of late. To extend my lazy streak but keep you coming make up for it, I'm regifting (Indian giving?) a post I gave to Merlot Mom back in August, during her trip to Japan. I promise to return to our regularly scheduled programming possibly as soon as tomorrow.


Scene: 7:30 am. Approximately 12 hours after Manic Mommy and Daddy have emptied the living room of the following:

• One oversized, incredibly heavy, and entirely abused living room couch
• Its little sister, the soon-to-be-former love seat, same condition
• Under-couch detritus
• Embarrassingly large pile of under-couch detritus
• 3x3 square coffee table; gouged, scraped, stickered, and colored
• Matching end table with the drawer handled removed. In surprisingly good shape, given the fate of the its compatriots

Jordan’s Furniture Delivery Guy arrives at front door to be greeted by Manic Mommy, looking like a million bucks in grey t-shirt and pink pajama bottoms, hair back in a headband. She did put a bra on.

MM (huge smile – she’s getting new furniture!): Hi!

JFDG: Hi. My name is -

HRH (fresh on the scene, addressing JFDG): Do these look like clothes? They’re really ‘jamas.

JFDG: Oh, very nice. They’re SpongeBob. (back to MM) Hi, my name is Ariel and –

HRH: I also have a pair of baseball ‘jamas. And they look like clothes, too.

JFDG (cheerily): Oh, you like baseball? Who’s your favorite tea-

HRH (points to furniture care kit box in JFDG’s hand): What’s that? (runs off before answer)

JFDG comes in. He and MM discuss placement of furniture.

RC (enters living room wearing pajama t-shirt and underwear): I have a ‘mote control car. My Nana bought it for me for doing poops in the potty. Do you want to touch it?

HRH (not to be outdone): He has two remote control cars now. One from Nana and a monster truck one that Mommy bought when he wore big boy underwear for a whole day!

JFDG: Blank stare.

Leaves to get furniture.

JFDG II (having clearly been warned, remains silent, eyes averted) enters and begins removing French door from hinges.

RC: My Daddy has a hammer. And it’s loud too. Bang! BaNG! BANG!

JFDGs begin carrying in furniture/dodging little boys.

MM (attempting normal service-person-type conversation): Gee, it’s really muggy already. I thought it was supposed to rain all day today.

With each piece…

HRH: Once we had thunder and lightning and that tree over there…

…they are subjected…

MM: Guys, please stay out of the men’s way. Get that remote control car off the new table!

…to more…

RC: I have Diego underwear (sits on floor and spreads legs, knees bent). Want to see?

…of the same…

JDFG: Anyquestions?Canyousignhere?Thanksbye!

Manic Mommy gazes lovingly at pristine, matching, un-destroyed new living room…and barely hears him. Yeah, whatever, dude.

To Infinity...and Beyond!

"The definition of insanity is repeating the same actions over and over and expecting different results."

HRH: Mommmmm! RC is repeating me!

RC: Mommmmm! RC is repeating me!

Manic Mommy: He's doing it to get a reaction. If you stop reacting, he'll stop doing it.

HRH: RC stop repeating what I say.

RC: Stop repeating what I say.

HRH: MMMMMommmmmmyyyyyyyy!

RC: MMMMMommmmmmyyyyyyyy!

MM: He's doing it to get a reaction. If you stop reacting, he'll stop doing it.

HRH: Aaaarrrr Seeeeeee!!!! Stop repeating what I say!

RC: Stop repeating what I say!

HRH: MMMMMommmmmmyyyyyyyy!

RC: MMMMMommmmmmyyyyyyyy!

MM: He's doing it to get a reaction! If you stop reacting, he'll stop doing it!

And You Thought I Was Exaggerating

When you do this:

I switch to this:

Misty Water Colored Memories

Back in April, about a week before RC's 2nd birthday, we had our first Emergency Room visit. I didn't have a blog back then but I'm not letting that stop me from telling a pretty good boys-will-be-boys story. Here's the email I sent out to friends and family:

So yesterday afternoon, HRH undid the gate at the bottom of our stairs and headed up. He did not relatch the gate, so naturally, RC followed. I'm in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher when I hear the thump-thump-thump. I arrive at the bottom of the stairs just as RC does, face first. He got a half inch gash just below his right eyebrow and it's bleeding like a sieve!

I call my mother in law, who lives around the corner and she comes over to watch HRH. Next call is to Andy. I leave him a voicemail with RC screaming in background. I thought I got the "he's okay but I want it checked out" across but who knows?

End result is that he now has three stitches above his eye. The hospital was fantastic. We only waited about ten minutes then were brought into a room where we were given bubbles, a pinwheel, a toy train, lollypop and our choice of kids' videos.

Poor Andy arrived just before they had to wrap RC in a blanket (like a cat when you cut his nails) while two doctors, two nurses, and I pin him down to stitch him up. I'm there right next to his face saying "mommy's here, it's okay”, etc. while he screamed. I think it was definitely the pinned thing rather than the stitches that had him so upset. The thing that finally calmed him down was when I said we'd go home soon and see HRH. Right after they let him loose, he sat up and said "sink you" (thank you) to everyone. Of course they all melted.

He lost the bandaid first thing as it was bugging him and he kept pulling at it. Now he's got the stitches exposed (which they said is okay) and every once in a while, I catch him pulling on the actual threads. My sister suggested we may need to get a cone. :-)

Somehow, I think this is pretty much how the next 15 years are going to go with these boys...