Don't make me use my spatula.

*sigh*

If I could pick one power to have, I wouldn't waste it on flying or X-Ray vision. I mean, let's face it- with the way technology is advancing, we'll be able to do these things in my lifetime. No, I wouldn't want any super cool powers that might draw attention to myself... Instead, I'd like to be able to tell if a person is innately good or evil and be able to make them tell the truth. Just by looking at them too. I could walk on the sidewalk, look across the street at and see if the man and woman are just talking, or if something bad might happen. Then I could get help or carry on with my day... That is a super power I believe I could work with. 

I'm sure there are other, cooler super powers out there, but for now, I'd just like that one. I have trouble trusting people- mainly because I rely on my emotions to guide me through things. And sometimes, these female hormones are so cray-cray that my inner bitch comes out. It's weird how that happens too- like one minute, I'll be listening to this whole Michael Brown story about how he was innocent and what not... And I'll be so upset that the police officer would shoot a man (regardless of skin color) in the back for no reason... To being infuriated at the treatment of the County Police by the very citizens they are trying to protect along with these other Police units. And then, I forget that someone has died- and it might've been uncalled for. I mean, I wasn't there, YOU weren't there and we all know no one else is reporting the full truth. Oh sure, there are always people out there reporting things about the case, but I'm trying to remember that these people are also emotionally-speaking (uh, I don't really think that's a word, but I'm rolling with it)... Hmmm maybe I should just say acting on their emotions. Yeah, that sounds better. They are acting on their emotions and thinking how they can benefit from all of this. Really, that's the only reason I believe these looters are stealing. No other reason. It's insane- I do understand that Mr. Brown was seen moments before robbing a mini-mart, but to try and "avenge" him by breaking into said store and tearing it to pieces... I mean really- not necessary. The owner of that store did nothing to deserve that. None of these shop owners did anything wrong. And you know what, none of the police officers did either. I'm just going to throw it out there. 

I'm sick and tired of this being an attack on Police Officers. Yes, it hits close to home for me, but even if it didn't, I would still be appalled at their treatment. Obama should be more upset at the treatment of HIS government agencies than the fact that another black man was killed (we should stop here to take note that AMERICAN soldiers are dying everyday overseas, yet no one is rioting over that injustice... Nor does anyone seem to notice that African-Americans are not the lowest #-ed minority anymore and haven't been for a while- but that's all irrelevant I guess <FYI that honor goes to Asians, but I would also imagine American-Indians are there too... I just haven't found evidence from a census yet. I will though. Oh. I. Will.). *side note* I am firmly under the belief that Presidents should only be able to run for office if they have previously served in the military. End of discussion. Leading a country takes balls and, frankly, I just don't see that side of Obama right now. I'm hoping an Asian runs next. Lord knows their culture is dead set on hard work and no BS. Don't agree? Have you EVER walked into a Chinese restaurant and NOT known immediately what you wanted the minute the server comes to take your order? Complete chaos would arise. Why? Bc they are efficient and do not like to waste time unnecessarily. I like that. 

Ok, so as I'm getting super heated over another alleged race-issue on FB, I start feeling sick to my stomach. Like "I'm-about-to-throw-up-my-delicious-lunch-that-I-ate-4-hours-ago" sick. It wasn't pretty. I decided Facebook and I needed to take a break for the evening. 

I turned to Pinterest. 

You know what's funny about Pinterest? Every. Single. Mom. On. There. Is. SuperMom. Seriously. I looked at all of their fabulous meals and read about how they chop vegetables and get meals ready during nap time and all that jazz... And I'm over here about to cry because it's raining outside and I'm tired but my youngest refuses to nap. And never has it ever occurred to me to prep anything during nap time. When and if the baby sleeps... I sleep. Mama needs her sleep. For real. 

So, Pinterest made me feel worse bc my house looked like a freaking bomb went off, Gray would not stop trying to lick the linoleum floors and it was hurricane-ing outside. Which meant we were all stuck. Together. In our house. With no end in sight. 

I decided I needed to make comfort food. Luckily, I went to Aldi's for the first time today (not that I didn't want to go to Aldi's before now bc it was Aldi's, but more because I didn't want to go grocery shopping in general much less to TWO grocery stores... But I sucked it up. It smelled weird, but so does the commissary. I got great deals) and had some snack food for the boys to munch on while I determined what I was going to make. I decided on my own version of Creamy Chicken Noodle Soup. It was a success. Of course. 

I've had quite a few years to perfect my cooking and let me tell you, I wasn't always so awesome. My very first experience with cooking was a disaster. I was 18. I made hamburger helper. I thought I was "helping" out my mom. I wasn't. It was more like when a toddler tries to help with something you think they should be able to do. Then they accidentally rip open the bag of flour which scares them and makes them step back on top of the eggs- which break- before finally landing on the bread loaf thus making their help useless as you now have to put the groceries away, clean the floor AND clean the child. This is all hypothetical of course. My children would never do that. But I, on the other hand, was not very much help to my mom. In my defense, who the hell knows what it means to brown the meat?! It was my first time cooking, I did NOT have a phone with internet and our AOL was all the way upstairs and slow as fuck at dialing up. So yes, I cooked the hell out of that meat and then proceeded to scald the milk and have everything get stuck to the pan. My sisters will all agree that no one asked me to cook for a long time after that. I mean, the whole 3,000 sq ft house smelled like charred hamburger meat for weeks. Even though we tried to air it out. It. Was. Embarrassing. And I'll never be able to live it down. I had such a complex about it that when I would go over to my, now, MIL's house, I used to think she knew how bad I was at cooking because she never (and I mean NEVER) asked me to help her prepare meals...

Then, I got married and had a kid and now... I can cook (thanks, babe, you're the best SOUSchef I could ever ask for... And yeah, I know you're reading this. And laughing at me. It's ok, bc you were the one who got to marry this hot mess. Mwah!) 

I'm actually pretty deadly in the kitchen these days. In a good way. I made the BEST rainy night dinner and I completely made it up. Like "no-measurements" made it up. What can I say? I married into an Italian family. I'm awesome now. 

Here's my recipe (mainly so I don't forget...)

Rainy Day Creamy Chicken Noodle Soup w/Biscuits

Ingredients:

Chicken:

Boil (or poach) about 4 thawed chicken breasts (bone in rib meat... Mainly bc it's a lot cheaper than regular boneless, skinless chicken breasts, I like the flavor better and you're going to have to dice up the meat anyways) in a pot of water. It doesn't matter how much water you put in--- you're tossing it out later anyways. It'll take about 20 minutes to fully cook. Do this first bc it takes the longest and it'll give you time to start in the soup. 

Soup:

    1 can Cream of Golden Mushroom

    1 can Cream of Chicken

    4c water (or the equivalent in chicken STOCK)

    A couple heaping spoon-fills of Chicken Base (if not using chicken stock)

    Rosemary (little dash: I did a little "shake" with the jar... I guess it was 1/2 tsp)

    Thyme (around 1 tsp)

    Oregano (around 1-1/2 tsp)

    Onion salt (roughly 1 tsp... I would've used an onion, but I forgot to buy it)

Put everything in a different pot and bring to a hard boil. It'll take about 10 minutes. Use this time to chop vegetables... And preheat oven to 375°...

Vegetables:

     3 carrots (or a handful of baby carrots) chopped into 1/4 in slices

     3 stalks celery (use the leaves too... Thanks grandma, that was an excellent suggestion). Diced. 

     Handful of mushrooms. Diced. 

     1 can green beans. Drained. 

     1 can corn. Drained. 

Once the soup is boiling, add everything except the mushrooms. By this time, the chicken should be finished cooking. Pull it out and add 1/2 bag egg noodles to the same pot of boiling water... Hey. It's already boiling and the water tastes like chicken broth... So why not?! Cook for 5 minutes. Take this time to shred the chicken and remove any bones/gross parts (yeah, I'm picky.). Add the meat and 'shrooms to the soup. The oven should be preheated, so on with the biscuits. 

Super secret best biscuits recipe:

      Pillsbury...

Bake as directed ;) 

Once the noodles are finished, drain them and toss them in some olive oil. Add 1/2 cup Sour Cream -OR- Plain Greek Yogurt (it tastes the same to me) to the soup and shut off the heat. Once that is incorporated, add the noodles. 

Take the biscuits out of the oven when they are done and toss them into the soup. It's delicious. And... You're welcome. Just don't try and eat anything before I'm 100% finished with it or you'll get a "love-tap" from my spatula. 

Surviving St. Louis

I've never been great at keeping my opinions to myself and I am super thankful Facebook was not invented when I was young and dumb (for anyone who cares, FB became available in 2004 for college students. I was a college student in 2004. I was no longer young and dumb. That ended September 25, 2003 when I turned 18. FYI) I once read a quote (and forgive me if you've already heard me say this once or twice) that basically says, "if you can't say something nice, at least make it memorable". And you know what? I agree with that. For the most part. 

I'll admit: I have word-vomited my way into some sticky situations, but for the most part, I'm able to control my filter. For the most part. 

These riots in Missouri are ridiculous and out of hand. With new evidence coming up daily, who are we to trust? The media? Seems they are having a bit of word-vomit going on themselves these days. The police? Hmmm... I'm afraid that some government agencies would rather make County Cops out to be little pansies than an actual authoritative figures amongst all this chaos. The Black Panthers/ KKK (and yup, I'm grouping these together. I feel like both parties are out of control A-holes who are s**t-disturbers, but that is just my opinion. I will gladly take heat for my beliefs)? Puh-lease! Each group preaches about racial superiority under the pretense of equality through the use of peaceful protests. Yeah... I'll just skip over that part. It touches a nerve I'm not too proud of these days. 

So, the world is getting to know good ole STL. Awesome. Living in AL and watching these events take place from afar is very different than I would've imagined. Watching CNN and MSNBC make it out like every single town in the mid-eastern part of the state is in chaos. Complete anarchy. Damn you, news team. Damn you. 

So this weekend, I drove to Saint Louis. I left my children home alone with my husband for the first time. Ever. Yes, I know, he's fully capable of handling his own flesh and blood, but I was still nervous. I expected phone calls every hour and a couple middle of the night phone calls. I honestly cannot even begin to tell you all the anxiety I was feeling because it did not show up until I crossed over into Tennessee. Like literally, there's a big Welcome sign as you're crossing the border. What you don't see is the little "*" that is right after Tennessee Welcomes You... The asterisk clearly states, in Times New Roman font (probably size 10 or smaller), "...and your hidden anxieties...Mwahahahahahahah" and, I started panicking. 

Did I leave my family with enough food? (Uh, no, I did not. I did this on purpose so my husband would appreciate going to the store with two crabby children and making it out alive, but just barely)

Did I write out their schedules for Friday? (Yes, thank God)

Did I write out instructions on the freezer meals I made? (Yes, I'm awesome)

Did I hang the laundry? (No... But I wanted to see if he would do that. I really wasn't holding my breath... Just... Hoping...)

Dear god, did I leave the car seats?!?! (Yeah, I pulled over to look in the back seat. For the millionth time. No car seats. Phew!)

And then, STL happened. 

I thought for sure when I crossed over the bridge in downtown STL at 12:30am that I would see riots everywhere. I mean, the media had me scared for my life. And as I was clutching my bottle of Raid (yes, embarrassing, but per my friend, it shoots farther than mace and does more damage. <inserting my evil laugh>), I began to look around. Like REALLY look around. It looked like the same old St. Louis I had always known. As I drove through Clayton, Chesterfield and finally through to St. Charles, I thought the same thing, "Where. Is. Everybody?"  I mean, I have no death wishes nor do I have any type of personal vendetta against anyone, but I thought for sure I'd at least see a bunch of police vehicles and ambulances blocking a road or two. Nope. Nothing. I actually didn't even see a police car anywhere. And I was looking. (And for the record, don't bitch about how cops are never there when you need them but are capable of pulling you over to ticket you. Don't break the law and you won't get pulled over. Period.) So, I made it to my destination and passed the eff out. It was 1am and I had been up for quite a while already that day. 

I don't remember what I dreamt about, but, darn it, I woke up at SIX FREAKING O'CLOCK in the morning. Say it with me now, "What. The. Fuh." I was in a completely dark room, without children and my internal alarm clock decided to go off. It was some sort of sick joke God had played on me for thinking all of St. Louis county was erupting in flames I guess. Simple mistake, on my part. So, I took a Melatonin and went back to bed until 9:45. Phew. Then I met up with Ryan. 

Do you ever have that friend that you've always viewed as a family member? Well, this is Ryan. My husband and I (and I say I loosely bc I had my own place) lived with him for a couple years in college. He is our "brother" (I'm sorry, I'm laughing now because I just said that like Ben Stiller from the movie Zoolander... "And I don't mean like an actual brother, but the way black people say it. Which is more meaningful I think..." Oh crap, I love that movie. I hope I can keep myself from quoting it some more. Sorry in advance) and well, to be frank, my husband and I live vicariously through Ryan lol. Maybe some day (after I've written my autobiography about this blog), I'll write about Ryan's life. It's hilarious. Ah, I should probably tell some stories, but I will refrain. This weekend is a girl's weekend and not about Ryan's back stories ;)

So I am doing some design work for Ryan and we met up to make improvements. It was fun. We spent a record-holding time of 5-hours at El Maguey. It was epic. I am sure when my husband gets back to STL he and Ryan will obviously try and beat that time. Obviously. 

I also met up with some of my relatives. If you don't remember, I called my 90-yr old Great aunt at the beginning of the week and she was under the impression I was my younger sister, MiMi. Well, she was still under that impression when I called to tell her I, Becca, was picking her up. Then, she actually called my sister at 5:30 when I, again- BECCA-, was sitting in some traffic, wondering where she, MiMi, was... *sigh* so then I, becca, have to call Aunt Mary back and pretend I, becca, talked to MiMi about tonight and how she, MiMi, got called into work so I, Becca, was coming to pick her, Mary, up. Confused yet? Don't worry, so am I. Well, I surprised my Great Aunt by having some more relatives meet up with us at Applebee's. The whole time everyone is saying how great it was that I, Becca, organized this and how we need to do it again. We laughed so hard we had tears streaming down our face. I would tell stories, but sometimes, it's all about the Jewish accent and mannerisms while telling the stories. I could never do them justice. Anywho, as I'm taking my Great aunt back to her house, she tells me how great it was that MiMi organized this whole she-bang (my word, not hers) and how upset she was that my sister could not even be there to enjoy it... Oh well, I didn't do it to be recognized for my efforts lol. It was fun and I look forward to being senile- turning old friends into new ones every single day ;) I'm ready for it. 

Ok, now the reason I was in STL was not for Ryan or the riots, though both are interesting and important and not even to have dinner with my relatives- though it is always a great time. The real reason I was in town, solo, was for my sister's bachelorette party. Yes, that time in every young bride-to-be's life where it's viewed as funny when people say things like, "you're getting married?! Don't do it!" "Suck for a buck? Hell yeah!" (<--- yeah... It's for a Dum-Dum/ Blow Pop) "want to do a blow job with me?" (<--- *rolling my eyes) it was a super fun night last night but man, I'm getting old. 

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from yesterday morning. 

For starters, we thought it would be a fantastic idea to take a pole dancing class. If you've never taken a pole dancing class, it is NOT like Hollywood movies.

                                 It. Is. A. Work. Out. 

We put on high heels and red lipstick and thought, "um yeah, totally ready to be freaking amazing at this". Ah, how naïve we were. Don't get me wrong, it was a lot of fun and we all felt pretty good about our skill levels, but I had back sweat. Pretty much got that after we started the class. We also all retained some form of "pole-kisses"... Mine happened to be a cut on my ankle & thigh, a friend had HUGE bruises on her shin and everyone else's legs and arms felt like jello from using them so much. I decided right then and there that I just worked off my alcohol for the night. Total win-win. 

Next on the list: shopping. Before we could go to the mall, we needed to be dropped off at my dad's house. It was raining cats and dogs... And apparently bird poop too. There we all were, sitting in the car laughing about how much our muscles ached and how strippers really deserved more credit, when all-of-a-sudden, SMACK! Something nailed the side of the car. It seriously looked like someone had thrown mud at the window. Hard. Upon closer examination (and by that I mean we all looked at the window and then at each other) we determined this "mud splatter" to be bird poop. Clearly, the bird was probably dead or dying, lying in a ditch somewhere- bc no animal could've shit that much and still be alive. Luckily, like I said- it was raining pretty good. I hope all that poop got off the car without any scrubbing. So... We switched vehicles and went to the mall. 

I have mom clothes. I have accepted this. So, we went shopping for something to make my apparent "mom-ness" less noticeable. We met up with my best friend and her little boy. He missed his nap. And now, normally, I'm totally cool with seeing other people's kids cry. In my mind I'm just thanking the sweet little 6 pound 7 ounce baby Jesus that it's not my child who's throwing a tantrum. It wasn't a full out tantrum, but more like an "I'm tired and my mom is a complete fun-sucker and making me sit in this damned stroller so I can't climb out and ruin the shoe display" type of tantrum. But yesterday, it bothered me. It made me miss my boys. I was actually doing so well (I thought). My husband had only texted me briefly about how Gray has had 5 poop diapers so far. And instead of being concerned for my baby's hydration levels, I was extatic that my husband had to change not one but five poopy diapers. It was just... Uh... Great. I'm twisted. I know. The baby is fine. The husband is traumatized. It's all good. 

Now, I'm missing my boys. With babies on the brain, I see a "friend" who just had an adorable little baby girl and I wave to her. I cannot wait to ask her about mommy-hood and how the baby is doing. She hasn't acknowledged me so I wave a little more, thinking maybe she doesn't see me... As we get closer though, I realize, "wait, maybe that's not her"... As my hand is still in the air... We make eye contact. I can't even pretend to be waving to someone behind her because there WASN'T anyone behind her. So, I did what any smart woman would do: I pretended to adjust my ponytail holder and kept walking like she was the odd man out. It was still super awkward. But successful. My BFF and sister are laughing. A-holes. 

So, my best friend decides her little guy has suffered enough torture for one shopping trip and leaves. My sister and I shop, eat, see a woman throw up her meal (as we are leaving the food court-- mom side of me kicked in and I started to walk over to her to help, but then it remembered smelling vomit makes me want to vomit. So we continued walking), see a lot of very strange people, shop some more and decided on an outfit for her to wear to her bachelorette party. Hurray! We also decided that we are not officially too old to shop in the junior section of any store. It was just weird. We got that "you're good looking, but way too old to be shopping in this part" look from some high schoolers. Awkward. 

I didn't find anything to wear. Oh well. I have some dresses. Nothing sexy or risqué, but still- I'm a mom and married to a Marine... That in itself is the very definition of sexy. Duh. We get to the hotel to unload everything and LO-and-behold... A sexy dress... And it's MiMi's... And it fits me. Sweet. 

I am not going to tell you everything that went down at the bachelorette party bc, and let's face it, "what happens at the bachelorette party, stays at the bachelorette party". I'll give you the highlights and a quick recap:

Van picks us up:

-spill beer all over the seat within the first 30 seconds of being inside

-someone makes a racial slur while telling a joke... And our driver was that same race

Hamburger Mary's:

-drag show... No one has any $1 bills... They work for tips

-the best line from the evening was coined by one of the performers "you know, if a bunch of guys can dress up and look this good, there's no excuse to ever see an ugly woman"

-met a 94-yr old Queen who looked like Isthma (spelling?) from Emperor's New Groove. (She was super nice)

-bachelorette gets wasted, orders a round of shots for everyone, aunt says she's picking up the tab, realizes how expensive it is and collects money from everyone (*hilariously laughing at this point*)

Bar Hopping:

-it's raining so we go to BallPark Village

-lots of line = keep losing members of our group 

-get told That more people would hit on me if I would just smile bc I look too intimidating... Smh (bc my goal in life is to get hit on by weird men... Riiiiiiiiight...)

-realized the bar scene is no longer for me... Which means I'm now "officially" as old as my parents

-saw a girl I used to coach in gymnastics. Drinking. She's 22. Omg. I. Am. Old. Again. 

-2 girls in our party are walking with eachother, see a guy they both know and awkwardly say hi. As they are walking away, one says to the other (and I kid you not), "did you have sex with him?" To which the other girl replies, "uhhhhhhhh...yeah" and then the first girl says, "yeah, me too"

Hotel Room:

-drunk tears

-the drunks pass out

-the drunks start to snore

-I was NOT drunk. I was not passed out. I could not sleep because of the snoring. 

I drove home this morning. In rain. But I'm home. My boys missed me but everyone survived. There was no dinner made for me when I got home. No laundry was done. The laundry I left was still on the hangers in the laundry room and not put away. But everyone was fed and bathed. So now here I am. Tired. More tired than before I left. There will come a time when I am not tired. I look forward to that day. For now, though, I need to sleep. I am on pins and needles while these riots are going on and affecting my family so I do not think sleep is in my near future. 

Please keep Missourians in your thoughts and prayers. The protestors are peacefully protesting, the police officers are trying to protect those not involved and also themselves and businesses, but they can only do so much. Please try and remember that the media has a way of spinning stories and, while one story holds true today, another one has the potential to come out tomorrow that could disprove everything. Keep an open mind and don't point fingers just yet. Gosh, that's easier said than done. 

Free! Free at Last!!!!

I'm getting cookie crumbs all over my newly cleaned sheets. ""Why?" You ask... Because my husband has decided our "family" room is now his man cave and is currently cleaning his guns. Now, normally he would've gone to his actual man cave in the garage, but it's shark week and we do not have a tv outside. "So why are you sitting in your bed, again?" You ask... I have a morbid fear of sharks. I'm serious. In my high school ZoBot class, we had to dissect a nurse shark. An apparently harmless shark, but I couldn't do it. I tried. I almost passed out. My heart started racing and my vision was going blurry. Ugh. It was kind of embarrassing. Thankfully, my teacher felt sympathy for me and allowed me to write an essay. It was supposed to be about why my paranoia is irrational, but I wrote about why it IS RATIONAL. I got a 98%. 

So, I'm in my bed. Eating chocolate graham crackers and merengue icing bc I ran out of Oreos (darn children). It's ok as I'm almost positive the icing I made takes strikingly similar to the Oreo's cream filling. I am satisfied. 

All because my boys went to preschool today. Yes, you heard that right. They BOTH went to school. My husband had the day off and dropped them off for me. I felt like I would become too emotional when I dropped off the baby. Esp after not having slept at all last night. I really wish Gray would figure his body out and sleep again. I need a nice long coma. Honestly, bc a decent night's sleep is a long ways away. 

I had two drs apts today (*sigh* I would've like to just nap the whole time, but that would be asking too much). In all seriousness, I could've had an apt with my OB/GYN and still been happy bc I was kid less. My first appointment was with my dermatologist. When I was pregnant with Jackson, I developed chloasma (sp?). It's a skin disorder where the pigment of your skin becomes darker. Now, normally I'd be stoked, right? Who wouldn't want a beautiful tan year round? Ummm, that's not what I'm talking about here. With chloasma, only PARTS of your skin change color. In my case, it looked like I had a mustache. Let's all say it together now: "MILF!!!" With Gray, it got worse, covering my forehead, both cheeks and upper lip. My face looked dirty all the time. The docs say it's hormone related and it should go away on it's own after I stopped nursing. Well, sad news, it didn't. Plus, I'm starting to wrinkle from all the yelling I'm doing. Kidding, it's just from getting older lol. Oh, and let's not forget breaking out all over my face... What's that? Oh yeah, I'm almost 30 and breaking out like I'm 13. Sweet. 

At first, my doctor only prescribed Retin-A. It kind of works, but let me just say, if you use Retin-A, get a Clarisonic face scrubber. It's worth it. Peeling is the #1 side effect of Retin-A and by using the Clarisonic nightly, I have yet to peel. "What is Retin-A?" You ask... Well, it's basically Vitamin A lotion. It penetrates DEEP into the skin to encourage quicker cell growth. It's supposed to help with everything: wrinkles, acne, acne scars, skin discoloration... You name it. One of the draw backs is that it is water-soluble which means if your face is even SLIGHTLY damp after you clean it, the water molecules will break down the Retin-A molecules and you'll basically be wasting a $75 tube of this stuff. Really, it's that expensive. Another downer is that any other acne medication containing peroxide will stop the Retin-A from working. So basically, not only do I have to wait 20 minutes from the time I wash my face until I'm able to put on the Retin-A, I can't use the one type of product that was starting to work for me. 

Awesome. 

But, I decided to give it a try. And my results? Smaller pores, skin discoloration is less noticeable, acne scars are fading and wrinkles are getting stopped in their tracks. Acne? Eh, still there. Which is why I wanted to see my doc again. Without my boys accompanying me, I was about 30 seconds from being late... And then, luck was with me. I hit almost every green light, my favorite Aerosmith song came on pandora and I found a front row parking spot in a very crowded parking garage. Not to mention the fact that I had no children to unbuckle. No "snail-walkers" that complained the whole way from the car to the building. No extra stops on the elevator because the baby decided to push every button he could reach (obviously I pay attention to my children, but let's face it: kids. are. fast. And sneaky.). The only reason I ended up being a tad late was because the woman in front of me asked a million questions. And they weren't even relevant to the visit. Sometimes it's a curse having common sense because it makes me more aware of people who lack it. Smh. Today, I'm on too of the world. I am kid less. No trading children with other families, no con-ing my husband to watch them and definitely no set backs. I get in to see my Dr, add a medication and I'm off! Quick as that! I mean, I could definitely get used to this. From now on, ALL drs apts are on Tuesdays!!!

Then, CVS happened. Damn them. Their pharmacy took forever. Mind you, they told me 30 minutes or less. It was almost an hour. There's only so much randomness you can look at while perusing the aisles of CVS before you become so bored that you sit at the pharmacy's waiting area. I looked at everything. I spent quite a long time in the "As Seen on TV" section. It was all useless of course, but that small part of me wanted desperately to get something. Anything! Just to see if it worked. Curse my curiosity. Well, I DID find Gray's favorite binky brand, MAM, on clearance for $1.75 (normally $6.99). So, I hoarded the lot of them. I neglected to tell my husband they were "girl" colors. I only say this because strangers will randomly come up to me and tell me how beautiful my little girl is. And when I tell them that, no, you are mistaken, this is my son (in all camo wear), they are seriously shocked. "But," they say, "he's too beautiful to be a boy. Are you sure?" Yes, I'm sure. I've been sprayed in the face by his hose, so yeah, not a girl. I ended up buying way more things than I should have, but I'm almost positive the pharmacists do the whole "time constraint" thing so you will buy random items you probably don't need. It's a conspiracy. 

After briefly talking to the manager about how ridiculous waiting for an hour for my prescription is, I find out, they can only fill 1/2 of my order and I'll need to come back tomorrow after 2. Which means: both boys. And you know what? I'm going to go to the back and if my order isn't filled yet, I'm unleashing the worst thing imaginable: boys with a sugar rush. I'm going in with my big guns here. Run wild, crazy beasts, mommy will not be yelling at you. Mwahahahahahahah. That'll show 'em. Or get me kicked out. Um, I'll go with sticking it to "the man". 

I was almost late again, to my 2nd drs appointment. But, again, I was childless and was able to quickly get in and out of my car. It seriously felt odd. My 2nd apt was physical therapy. They love my boys and were heart broken when I reminded everyone the boys were in school. I had a great session and went to pick up my tiny terrorists from school. 

I walked into Gray's room and that sweet little baby looked so pathetic. He was standing at the table (and it's kid-height which makes it extra adorable somehow) facing away from me with his head resting on his blanket. It was the one time I forgot to bring in my phone. I was upset. Then, I called his name and he started running toward me, crying hysterically. Like he hadn't seen me in YEARS! I'm pretty sure my heart was ripped out and I instantly felt super guilty at being so happy NOT to have them around this morning. His teachers made me laugh though. Apparently the other 5 one-year olds in the class were also crying when their parents dropped them off, that the two teachers decided everyone needed to play outside right away. It worked like a charm. Within seconds of being outside, surrounded by toys and slides, they all forgot what the hell they were so upset about and the day continued on as normal. Well, up until lunch time. I'm guessing all the other moms are like me and put their kiddos down right after lunch for a nice long nap. Lol. You could just tell they were all exhausted. And being around all 6 of these little babies was just the cutest thing ever. Maybe when gray goes to kindergarten, I'll start working in the one-year old room at pre-k lol. Ummm maybe not hahaha. 

We picked up Jackson and went home. Adios freedom! See you on Friday lol. 

Tiny Terrorists and Vomit Perfume.

Today, a lot of things happened. A lot of funny things and a lot of really not funny things. I'll break it down for you. 

Not even early enough to qualify as "Morning":

I'm not quite sure why my boys' internal clocks are set to go off simultaneously at 5:45 am... But I'm pretty sure they were both crying in the living room as I made their breakfast for no other apparent reason other than they are the spawns of the Devil (- who happened to be still sleeping in bed. On a Monday. Damn him.) Both of my children sat there, tears in their eyes and sobbing uncontrollably. Why? Who-the-heck-knows-why?!?! I mean I'm the woman currently PMS-ing and they are breaking down like I just broke the news that Santa is mythical. It's ok. Really, it is. Because today is the first day of preschool for my 4-year old. I've waited all summer for this day to arrive. 

I used to tell people that I use up all my patience for the day on my children. That's not entirely true though. Sometimes, they use up my daily allotment for patience within the first 10 minutes of being awake. Today, my patience was G O N E by 7:30. AM. 

Ugh--- thank goodness my husband was taking Jman to school so I could nap when the baby naps. That was my saving grace. I put that little stinker down at 7:55am and QUICKLY took the year's annual "1st day of school" photos. Which were amazing, by the way. Jman actually asked to have his picture taken- which is highly unusual for him. As soon as the priority shots were taken, I found out the reason. You see, he just recently learned how to tap his foot and make music. He wanted it documented because he really is amazing at tapping his toes. His words not mine. I would say his modesty is what I love most about him... And yes, he's totally a mini-me. Probably why I lose patience so quickly with him. Smh. Man, I love that kid. 

Mid-morning:

Gray woke up around 10am. Which means I woke up at 10am. I'm ok with that. I got a coffee and a shower and felt a lot better after sleeping some more. I'm just not meant to be a morning person I guess. Heaven help me when I get a Big-Girl job some day. 

Let me continue on with this part of my day by saying I have 3 younger sisters. We all have that type of love-hate relationship that most of my friends with sisters have. You know, it's the kind that even when you "hate" them, no one else is allowed to voice their hatred of them except you or else you rip them a new one and later on laugh at yourself bc you just realized that you are no longer mad at them for whatever the original reason was... Unless of course you have a brother- which I don't. I have no clue about brothers. Sorry. Ok, back to my sisters. The one right under me is a police officer. We look alike. We talk alike. We have the same mannerisms. People confuse us all the time. We've just accepted it. Only problem is that she's 2 years younger than me, is engaged (to another officer), has no children and is about a head shorter than me. Even with all this, I still managed to get called by her name at her bridal shower. Awesome lol. 

So, back to why the is relevant. I have a very wonderful great-great-aunt. She's in her 90s and loves my boys. I wanted to give her a call today to see if our plans for a rendez-vous on Friday were still a "go"! I called and said it was Becca. We talked for about 35 minutes total. The first 15 minutes, I was Becca. The LAST 20 minutes were spent with her asking me questions about my sister and the big riot that is currently going on in Missouri. I was confused for about 5 minutes and then I did what any good great-great-niece would do... I went along with it. Better just accept the fact that she thought I was my sister and play along with it. What was funnier was that she told "me" about her nice visit with me (the ACTUAL me) and my family. "Oh", she said,"and those boys are just so cute, but man are they a handful. Becca doesn't have a minute to herself. She deserves a vacation."

This I know. Which is why I'm going on one in a couple days. By myself. 

It was a nice little chit chat and I found myself calling every family member who'd answer their phone about it. Ah well, at least I know she genuinely likes us still hahahaha. 

While I was talking to her, I re-sanitized the family room. It smelled like Clorox. So we left to pick up Jman from school. 

AFTERnoon:

Pick up went well. School went well. Jman was "exhausted" from apparently doing nothing all morning. I mean I did ask him what he did and his reply was, "eh, nothing." He needs to stop talking to my husband so much. I'm a woman. I want details! He knows this. But, alas, he was tired and could not move his muscles to get out of the car at Costco. Ticked off, I decided Costco was going to have to wait. I really didn't want to have 2 screaming children at such a chaotic place. Plus, I know with both of them there, it'd take me 3xs as long to get the 4 items I needed. Better just wait til later. So, home we go. 

Both boys were content to just sit in Jman's room so I could carpet clean. (I know, it's the one chore I absolutely love to do. I'm crazy. I get it. Originally, I loved doing it bc it's instant gratification: you turn on the machine, push the button, drag the device and instantly see all the dirty-discolored water right there in the discard-tub. Now, I love carpet cleaning bc it's the one device that completely let's me tune out the voices of my little angels. Despite their attempts to amp up their volumes. Mwahahahahahahah) anyways, I carpet clean the living room before Gray looks like he's ready for an afternoon nap (YESSSS!). I put him down at 2. Without a fight. 

Then, Jman happened. 

He comes out of his room, yelling at the top of his lungs as though I'm still running the carpet cleaner- which I am not by the way- "maaaaaahhhhhhhhhaaaaaammmmmmmmm!!! I need a drink and snack, prontooooooooo!" 

Aw hell no, son. You did not just do that. Never mind he was calling me like I was nothing more than his own personal assistant, but he was YELLING! When the baby seriously just went to bed. Are you serious?! Then...

Wait for it...

Gray wakes up. Duh, you knew that was coming. 

So, I carpet clean the whole house, except our bedroom. I don't know WHY that always happens, but it does. Maybe it's because I'm ok with ME living in filth, well, by filth, I mean mounds of clothes and in-vacuumed carpets. Clean sheets, though, I can't live without. And as it so happens, mine were washed earlier this morning along with my huge, fluffy comforter. They both smell like Heaven. For realz. And my husband will not appreciate it, but I'm also Ok with that too lol. 

Back to how my afternoon was funny. 

So I had just finished dumping out my 2nd to last tub of dirty water when Jman says, "hey mom, remember in the car when I farted and it really smelled and I said I needed to poop?"

Me: "yes, I remember that smell very well"

Jman: "well, I just remembered... I never went poop!" And then he gets this silly look on his face and smacks his forehead. "Silly me! Ok, I'm going to go poop now."

That's not even the funniest part either. So I'm in the process of finishing up the last couple of square feet when he is screaming my name at the top of his lungs and telling me I have got to see this piece of poop!

Jman:"it looks just like sand! It's until-freaking-believable!" (<- yeah, I may or may not have said that phrase a time or two around him...)

And you know what, it did look like sand. And because he was so damn proud of himself too, I refrained from laughing or getting grossed out. Because it smelled awful. How can anything so smelly come from someone so small?!?!

Dinner/bed time:

Gray went down for another nap at 4 because I could no longer think straight. Jman got to watch TV and have a snack so he was happy. We all woke up, had a delicious dinner and started our pre-bed time play time. On tonight's agenda: head stands and forward rolls. Baby Gray is amazing at both and has no fear going upside down. Jman... Is a work in progress. He's getting better, but Gray- I've created a monster. He'll come over to you, pretend to sit down, then put his hands and his head on the floor and yell at you until you lift his feet in the air. He's a silly guy. 

It was time for bed. 

Originally, Gray went down easily. Jman went down easily. 

Then, I was reminded why I'm done having children. 

Gray woke up, somehow figured out the concept of opening doors and proceeded to come out into the family room where my husband and I were sitting. Fuck. Me. 

He was a drooling mess so I thought, "teething. He needs medicine. Let's give him some Motrin so he can go back to sleep and ease his teething pain". Yeah, I was wrong. I give him his meds and within a minute of swallowing the last little bit, he does this really wet burp. The kind that preceeds vomit. That kind of burp. So I quickly pick him up, trying to soothe him before he causes himself to throw up. All is going according to plan, when out of the blue he pushes away from me and pukes all over me: in my hair, in my ear, down my cheek, down my shirt (through two shirts I would like to add), down my arms and onto the floor as I rushed him over to the kitchen floor. Too late, it was everywhere. Oh, you see Gray couldn't have just thrown up his medicine, because that would've been too easy. No, no, nooooooo people... He threw up his dinner, dessert and curdled strawberry milk in addition to his medicine. I washed us both, but I still smell like throw-up. 

At that point, I was ready for bed. Gray did not feel the same though. He wanted to play. That's fine, both myself and my husband are awake: he could play with Gray and I could write this so everyone else who had a rough day could read my blog and maybe have a better night :)

Gray is my shadow. Where i go, he goes. So if I move to the couch, he moves to the couch. And if I move to the floor, he moves to the floor. And if I move to the love seat? Yes, you guessed it- he's right there with me. So the fact that I am not the one playing with him is pissing him off. What's a baby to do right? What would you do? 

If you're answer was smack your mom square in the face with a Nerf Foam Sword so har her glasses fall off, then yes, you are correct. It hurt. I was pissed. My husband was trying so hard to conceal his laughter. Ass. 

Then, my husband decides it is time for him to go to bed. "Him" being my husband. NOT the baby. So here I am, ending my blog so I can put the baby to bed because he is currently trying to open mouth kiss me. I'm not sure why he doesn't close his mouth, but I've got drool everywhere. It's really adding to the vomit-perfume I'm wearing. Oh, ah yes, ther's the smell I was waiting for. Poop. Nice one, Gray. Santa's bringing you coal for Christmas. 

Tomorrow they BOTH are in school for 4 glorious hours and I'll be at 2 drs apts. ah... It's the little things in life. Goodnight all!

Sunday Funday

Today, the boys and I laid in bed all day watching Scooby Doo and TMNT movies. The baby slept with me again, starting around midnight and we were up at 3 and 6 for more meds. At 10 am, we all woke up "for good". Poor guy's temp was 103.8° so I called it... "Junk food and movie marathons in bed" Day. No other plans necessary. It rained, we slept (and by "we", I mean Jman slept too... He never takes naps. It was weird), I scared the crap out of my neighbor with my appearance (in my defense, she woke me up from a nap, so I didn't take the time to check my appearance before answering the door...) and then we ate Pasta con Broccoli (of course I forgot the mushrooms... Oh they were sitting right there on the second shelf in my fridge, but I'm exhausted and skipped right over that part of the directions... Smh. I need a vacation). Now, both boys are in bed. Well, my oldest keeps coming out, telling me he forgot things: 1st- he forgot to throw away trash, 2nd- he forgot to brush his "very back teeth", 3rd- he wanted to know what this little bump on his arm was from (...seriously?! How the heck do I know? I told him it was a bug bite from last week...no sense in making up something scary right now. I mean, I DO want him to go to sleep!) and now, my husband just came home from work so it's only a matter of time before Jman realizes this and is out of bed again. 

So I'll take this time to share a funny story with y'all that happened a little bit ago.

I hate laundry. If you've ever been to my house, it's perfectly clear: the laundry room is a judgment-free zone. Oh, I don't mind doing laundry- like sorting it, putting a load into the wash, switching the loads around and taking items out of the dryer... It's the whole hang-and-fold-then-match-the-sock-and-fold-the-underwear-before-putting-it-all-away part that I despise. I guess HATE is too strong of a word bc I'd much rather do laundry than clean the bathrooms and I'd much rather clean the bathrooms than mow the lawn. So really I just strongly dislike laundry. But it is on the verge of hate. Very VERY close. 

Well, two moms in my life LOVE laundry: my step-mom and my mother-in-law. They are weirdos lol! Kidding. But every time they come to my house, they tend to clean (I mean reclean, as I typically clean before they arrive) and do the 100 loads of laundry that are scattered throughout the laundry room. I have accepted this. They give me grief about it, duh, but at the end of my long days... I don't have to do it so I'll take their criticisms. ---- I say that with love and only a slightly sarcastic tone...and a small eye roll. Hahaha

Ok, so let's get on with why that is important to the story line. 

I love lingerie. My husband loves lingerie (on me, obviously, although I'd pay quite a lot of money to see him try and slip into one of my outfits hahaha... Yeah... I'm picturing it now and laughing. He's 6'1 and has a very muscular body. *wiping a tear from my eye* I'll go ahead and continue. So we recently went on a date night and bought a pink get-up from Victoria's Secret. I had been feeling pretty good about my body (bc I am working out again and trying to cut back on my Oreo consumption. That part's not going so well... I'm in a 12-step process) and wanted to grab some lingerie that showed it off (woot woot!) The lingerie I bought just so happens to have some sequins... If you know anything about laundry, you know that sequins are beautiful, but a pain to wash. And I did NOT want to hand wash anything. We have an expensive washer/dryer and it should be able to balance my checkbook and take the kids to school for as much as it cost... So, I figured sequined lingerie would be a piece of cake for my washing machine. I was trying a new thing called, "wash dirty clothes each night before you go to bed". It was sort of working. Now, it's nonexistent again. Oh well, if at first you don't succeed...

Two days later...

My Mother-in-law stops in for a little visit and decides her grandchildren need clothes that are not full of wrinkles. So she does our laundry. I forgot what I was doing, but she was calling my name pretty loudly so I figured it was to give me grief about the dirty clothes. Ummm, almost. 

I walk in and she says, "so, you guys going to have a third [child]?" 

To which I quickly replied, "uh, nope. Not happening." I was kind of confused as to why she's not accepting this even after my husband and I both told everyone we were DONE... 

She gave a "yeah-right-I'll-believe-it-when-I-see-it" kind of look before looking me square in the eyes and saying, "you know how I know there'll be a #3 soon?" And to my utter horror, she picks up my hot pink outfit from VS and twirls it around her finger. "From this little number right here". 

And now I don't blush easily, but damn it, I think I was sweating more than a whore in church after she said that. It's funny now, but OMG was it embarrassing as hell. And that pink lingerie has not been worn since. Which is a shame bc it really is quite beautiful. Maybe when I can look at it without thinking of my MiL, I'll wear it again hahahaha. 

Oh and ladies, please, wear sexy little outfits for your husbands and stop over thinking things. He's a guy: not much else goes on in that head of his once you start foreplay. 

And guys... You're welcome. 

If anyone wants the Pasta con Broccoli recipe, here it is. It tastes just like Pasta House's. But please, don't ruin it with whole grain pasta. I have yet to find a recipe where whole grain pasta actually tastes GOOD...

Pasta con Broccoli

Protein Pizza and Roseola

Sometimes when I'm trying to fall asleep, my mind goes over everything I was supposed to do that day and mentally try and prepare myself for all the amazing things I'm going to get done the next day. It really is more of a pain in the ass because at the end of the day, all I really want to be able to do is lay down in my nice big bed and drift off to dream land. You know, like my husband. When he says he's going to bed, he goes to the bathroom, brushes his teeth, slips into bed and is out like a light within 5 minutes. It's seriously not fair. So, about these big plans for the next day, I always seem to have a million and one things on my "To-Do" list for the next day. I go to bed excited for what awesome things I'm going to accomplish and how freaking amazing I'm going to feel when they all get done. 

*pause for effect*

Then I typically wake up more tired than when I went to bed and my plans go out the window. 

Today, was one of those days. 

Poor baby Gray ended up sleeping with me last night because I was emotionally, mentally and physically too tired to keep walking back into his room to soothe him (I apologize to everyone who is OK with letting their child soothe themselves. This is not one of those times. He wasn't feeling well and needed constant cuddles). Since the dog only takes up a portion of our CalKing bed, I figured I'd sleep better only adding a 20 lb baby into the mix. After all, how much room does he really require? He typically sleeps on his knees with his face smushed into his mattress, right?! Um, yeah, so last night... He had to be touching me. As in ALL NIGHT TOUCHING ME. His toe had to touch me. And if his toe couldn't touch me, then his arm had to be draped on me. Heaven forbid I move into a position that is actually comfortable for me. Tears sounded the instant he lost contact with my awesomeness. So yeah, I really don't recommend co-sleeping. Like. Ever. I didn't really sleep. 

This morning was a freaking blur. Seriously, I really can't remember the specifics. I know I got a shower in because I woke up with drool all over my hair, face and neck. And honestly, I couldn't tell you if it belonged to me, Baby Gray or Sheppy. I smelled awful. And you know it's bad when you can smell yourself above a dirty diaper and dog hair. So I do know I showered. I'm pretty sure Jman's internal alarm went off at o-dark-thirty again and I'm really wondering how the hell I fix that. I cannot wait 10 more years until he's in his teens for a good night's rest. I just can't. I'll be old and grey and probably a bitch. And no one wants that. Esp not my poor husband who has already agreed never to divorce me. Sucker. (Kidding, I love him)

I have no clue what I made for breakfast, but I DO know that when I cleaned up his room this afternoon, he had a bag of Cooler Ranch Doritos sitting out that was definitely not there the night before (I think I scared him shitless about bugs and crumbs bc he's been too afraid to sleep in his bed if he's spilled any type of snack on it... Lots of nights sleeping on his floor..I don't have the heart to tell him bugs crawl on the floor BEFORE making it into beds. I don't want to go there right now. I once told him he needs to hang up his clothes and close his closet door or else his shirts would try and jump off the hangers and put themselves on him in the middle of the night... Um, not my best parenting move. He REFUSED to sleep in his room without parental supervision bc he kept having recurring nightmares of his clothes attacking him. He's a creative child...) back to our morning- the baby woke up the same time Jman did but I was able to put Gray back in his bed shortly after giving J ... Whatever it was that I gave go for breakfast. So I went to sleep too. I think. Maybe I just walked around the house in a daze. That sounds more probable. I mean, right before I went to bed, I checked the laundry and it ran SOME TIME during the day. I'm assuming I slept-cleaned... Hmmm...

So let's get to the part where I'm a super stellar mom. 

Soccer evals. 

I decided it would be a great idea to try and run with a stroller to the evals taking place up the road from my house. With a double stroller. Not to be confused with a double JOGGER. When I had bought the double stroller I had gladly accepted the fact that Becca + running ... Was NOT going to happen. Sad news for me. It WAS happening. And it was so much harder to run on a road than on a treadmill. And in Alabama's humidity too. Shit, back sweat AND boob sweat. I didn't even realize that was possible for me. Had I have not been trying frantically to suck in all that awful humid oxygen into my lungs before I passed the fudge out, I think I might've been happy that my good ole a-cupped girls were able to have enough cleavage needed to produce boob sweat. Unfortunately, I was near death's door and only ran about 1/2 of the distance to the soccer fields. It was depressing. And then I saw another neighbor dripping in sweat who said she had ran THREE FREAKING MILES!! Damnit! She's my hero. 

Soccer evals went well. Um, well, they went well enough for a 4-yr old who's only introduction to soccer has been through Kinect Sports (I know, judge away. Again. I'm an awful mom for letting my child play video games. But my ankles are still healing from their surgeries and some days it's just too plain HOT to go outside. Suck it... Not really. You can judge.) He ended up doing fairly well and really seemed like he was having a blast. Gray, eh, not so much. At first, he was having fun kicking around the soccer ball and chasing after it. Then, he just... Stopped. Like really, stopped. My normally very active, happy baby walked over to his seat in the stroller and just sat there until the end of the evals. I chucked it up to the heat and we ended up heading home shortly after the evaluations were over. 

When I went to take him out of the stroller, I noticed he was unbelievably hot. I'm talking sweating, red cheeks and lethargic- hot. I took his temp and it was almost 103! Oh. Fuck. Me. I stripped his cute little butt down and have him a bath with his brother. I had just finished washing them both when Gray started to shake. Think Michael J. Fox shakes. His lips were turning blue and he had goosebumps all over. I seriously could've won an award with how fast I swooped him up, wrapped him in towels and pressed him to be. It was one of the scariest things as a parent that I have witnessed. It took him well over 10 minutes for his shakes to subside. I gave him some medicine and tried to feed him but he would not eat A N Y T H I N G. And this is my good-eater too. So, I did what any good parent would do: I went to Burger King to grab his meal of choice--- a cheeseburger (processed foods! I know! But, I don't know how to use a grill and my husband was working). Of course I had to stop at the store for some other things as well, bc (and let's face it) I had no clue why he wasn't feeling well and if I needed to take him to the ER, I wanted to have food for us to return home to so I wasn't having to resort to any more fast food finds. 

I bet you are all on pins and needles waiting to hear if he ate his cheeseburger? And the answer is... No. He fell asleep as we were pulling into our subdivision. Awesome. It's in the fridge in case he wants to eat tomorrow. 

After I laid him down and ninja-back out of his room, I started googling his symptoms. Moms, don't do this. It will freak you out and make you believe your child is dying of a very rare form of the flu. I know better, but I couldn't get ahold of my own mom to go over his symptoms with her. I called my MIL and by the time Gray had woken up, I decided he needed to be seen. He was still running a High fever and didn't want to eat or drink. My wonderful next door neighbor had texted me she was coming to pick up Jman. Oh, did in mention this text appeared AS I was discovering my monthly bill had arrived? And I couldn't find tampons? Sa-weet!! Well, at least I knew J would be in good hands and I could worry about where the hell Jman had hidden my tampons at a later point in time (seriously, he uses them as drumsticks these days so I have no clue where they all are at. Really, child?!)

The ER staff was friendly enough so I won't bore you with any of those details. Sometimes I understand I do not look 28, but trust me- I am. And what's better is that I also understand sarcasm. It's my first language... Oh wait, I just said I wasn't going to bore you with that. Sorry. So Gray has Roseola. Or potentially a type of stomach virus associated with high fevers. And he WAS contagious... YESTERDAY. Y'all remember yesterday right? When I had some of my friends over to hang out? Oh yeah. That's EXACTLY what I wanted to hear. *sigh* I wish they served alcohol in Emergency Rooms. I needed a stiff drink. We honestly won't know what he has until his fever breaks. If it is Roseola, he'll get a rash on his trunk and possibly his arms and legs. He had this back in December. Poor guy. 

Driving back home, after hearing he was most likely not going to kill anyone with his virus, I wanted to still make pizza for dinner. So, I asked my friends to come back over and Lysol-ed the Be-Jesus out of anything and everything. Whatever didn't get Lysol-ed, was Clorox-ed. I feel confident that my house is more sterile than a hospital and hope to God I didn't miss any parts. The pizza dough could've been better, the cauliflower "bread" Stix could've been better, but my Protein Pizza was amazing and so were my friends. The kids, of course, did what kids do best and made a complete mess out of my house lol. It was great. It took my mind off Gray being sick instead of just teething and it gave Jman some time to get out his energy before bedtime. Oh, and my house is now clean again bc my friends also pick up their messes. They deserve awards. 

So now, my sweet little boy is drugged up and cuddled beside me once more as his big brother snores soundly I'm his room. And here I am, recording my life for everyone in the hopes that it'll help me go to sleep and NOT plan out my day tomorrow. Maybe if I plan NOTHING, the boys will surprise me and I'll be able to get a lot of things accomplished!! Wishful thinking, I know...

Oh, before I forget: if anyone wants the recipe to my Protein Pizza, here it is! It's seriously LOW-CARB!!!

Crust:

1 lb cooked chicken breast

2-3 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

Put in a food processor and grind up. It'll look like pink mush. It is gross to look at, but tastes delicious. Lay out a piece of parchment paper on a baking sheet. Spread the crust mixture out with your hands and flatten it (if you want a thinner pizza, press it out more firmly.  *please note, a thicker pizza will be easier to hold in your hands.) Bake at 425° for 12 minutes. Let cool for 5 minutes. 

Toppings:

Tomato Sauce

Oregano

Garlic

Basil

Shredded mozzarella cheese

Whatever other toppings you prefer

Spread the tomato sauce over the crust (this takes a little more than a small can) and sprinkle it with oregano, garlic and basil. Top with the cheese and whatever other toppings you like. Bake at 425° for ~7 minutes (the cheese will be bubbling and slightly browned). Let cool and then enjoy!! This feeds about 3 people, unless you are a male Marine. Then, you could probably eat this by yourself. It is very filling and has roughly 2g of carbs per piece. 

See you all tomorrow night!!

Murphy's Law...

I think it's Murphy's Law that states "if something bad CAN happen, then it WILLhappen"... Or maybe that's another law. Either way, that is always Drill Friday for us. You know, before kids, I used to be the eternal optimist- the sun may not be shining right now, but it will shine again- type of person. Then... Parenthood happened. And I'm not talking about human kids either. My Dog-ter is included in this too (you know, before she became Saint Sheppy at the young age of 4) lol. And now, it really doesn't matter if I'm viewing the cup as half empty or half full bc in about 2.7 seconds, the baby will be spilling it all over the carpet and it will make the same amount of mess regardless, ya know what I'm saying? I like to think of myself as a Practical Pessimist since entering Parenthood. I'm not a Debbie Downer by any means, I just know that if I plan for the worst and hope for the best, I'll never be let down lol. Doesn't mean I'm not surprised by today events... 

Let's face it, teething sucks. Every parent knows this. If adults had to go through the teething process, I doubt we'd be able to make through without the use of narcotics. Even when I had my wisdom teeth removed at 18, I got Vicodin after having dry sockets. And that was unbearable. I mean, nothing compared to child birth and the after birth, but still- I was 18 and popping babies out of my hoo-hah was not even a thought in my mind. 

So- let's get back to teething. We're talking Molars here. The most useful set of teeth any steak-lover will have. And it's currently turning my sweet little angel into the Anti-Christ. I'm serious. Blood curdling screams, heart wrenching sobs and head spinning as he projectile vomits everywhere while spewing out curse words in Latin. Ok, maybe not those last parts. But it's been rough. Last night, he was up 

E V E R Y   S I N G L E

hour. And now, my boys have really never been great sleepers, but when you go from having 7 blissful weeks of 12-hour sleep sessions at night to being up every 2-3 hours (and then every hour last night)... ROUGH doesn't even cover it. I was a complete mombie by the time I dragged my sorry ass back into my own bed at 4:15 am. I was beat and my husband had the audacity to snore. Not even a quiet snore either (if there's even such a thing). It was the triple snore: started out sort of nasally with his mouth slightly open with a WHOOSH-ing sound, progressing into the nasal cavity with more of a typical snore sound and finally turning into the full fledged mouth and nose snore that is so scary, it literally startled him awake mid snore. Yes, that's the man I love, ladies. Sorry, he's off the market. And what's better is having that little display going on in my right ear up until he had to get ready for work (5 something). True. Love. 

I honestly don't remember him leaving or Sheppy scratching at my door to be let back into our room after my husband left, but guess what I DO remember? That damned dog barging into the baby's room and waking him up at 5:45 am. Shit. I was just starting to dream a little too! And it was good! So now I've got baby-zilla crying and banging on my door along with the dog. I grabbed them both and gave my dog "the death stare" (because really, how else is she supposed to know I'm super pissed off- it's almost 6am and I can't even form a sentence without caffeine) before dragging them both into bed with me. I swear, the SECOND Gray's eyes started to close (6:02am- but who was keeping track), I hear the worst possible sound any mother could ever hear: her other child's door open... *cue the dramatic music, please* 

I gave up on sleeping. 

He was hungry and now the baby was all smiles and giggles because his older brother wanted to play with him. Oh Lordy and when they both smile at me, I swear, I melt. It's awful and I really feel sorry for the female population that'll be surrounding them both in 10-15 years (please let it be 15-20 actually)... After the healthiest breakfast I could scramble together without coffee (French toast sticks and chocolate milk: the breakfast of champions), Gray was ready to go back to sleep. It was 7:15. We have preschool orientation at 9. Yes, I let him sleep and MIGHT have gone back to sleep myself and MIGHT have pushed the snooze button 7xs and MIGHT have skipped a shower and used dry shampoo and body spray and MIGHT have been super late to preschool orientation. Hypothetical situation of course. 

Turns out, I arrived in the last 10 minutes of orientation so I didn't miss much and the teachers were all awesome. Score! 

The gym, um, not so lucky. 

Have you ever had that feeling that your child was going to go bat-shit-crazy in the day care room? Well, if you have that kind of intuition, can you please give it to me? Both boys were spectacular when I dropped them off and so I figured my quick 30-minutes of hell (I mean Core-Barre class) would be a piece of cake and then I could pretend to run for 5 minutes after that before picking them up and we'd all skip back to the car with smiles on our faces as butterflies fluttered around us. Well, none of that happened. Hell happened, of course, but i didn't get to make it through the cool-down. I heard an awful scream and cries and I turned to my workout buddy (and awesome neighbor/friend) and said, "oh great. I think that was Gray"... And you know what, my super-sonic hearing was correct. I mean, the poor guy had tears streaming down his reddened face and the saddest little pouty lip I have ever seen. For real, it was quivering and he was making these sad little sobs as if to say, "mom- I cannot believe you left me in that room while you tried to go and get your body bikini-ready. You are awful and I'm going to get you back for this starting right now". And you know what, he did. I became "that mom" with "that child" as his sobs turned more into death screams and everyone at the gym was either old or men and you know those people have no sympathy. It didn't matter at the time bc I was really only concerned with grabbing my socks and shoes and high tailing it back to my house. Oh yeah, and grabbing Jman from the child care room too. Let's not forget that...

The ride home was long. Full of tears from Gray. Full of pointless questions from Jman ("mom, did you see that police car over there? Why is it over there?"... Really, child? I'm more concerned with tuning out your screaming brother at the moment). I will never go anywhere again without Gray's binky. Ugh. 

We get home and IMMEDIATELY I grab Gray and pop his binky back in his mouth. I walked straight to his room and put him to bed. No fussing from him- I'm guessing crying wore him out. It wore me out too. I gave J the iPad to watch Netflix/ABC mouse on along with some snacks and a drink. (It's amazing to have a 4-yr old that is content with watching the iPad so I can nap... I know you're judging me. I'm OK with that. He won't nap anymore and this is his quiet time. Judge away my friends and I promise I won't pass judgement on you for doing the same) Ahem, so, I lay down in bed, close my eyes and start to drift off when 

BOOM! CRASH! BANG! SCREAMS!! 

In my delirious state, I thought it was Gray. My heart was racing- thinking, "oh dear god, I don't want to go back to the ER again so please don't let me see blood"... and I was super shocked to meet Jman in the hallway. You see, he had started to doze and banged his head on the corner of his book case... ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME, GOD?! REALLY???? A little tiny cut which required an ice pack and kisses (he wanted a bandaid but it was on his hairline so I said no... Band aids are a big deal around here so tears began to fall again)

The loud screams, of course, woke up Gray. So now I have TWO screaming children. I thought about joining them, but what good would it do any of us for me to start crying too. So I made lunch. And we all watched Paw Patrol. And I tried to erase any and all plans I had for the day... Just in case. We all finally got a nap in, but I'm telling ya, the teething-terror was still alive and kicking. I decided to call in reinforcements: my friends (who also happen to be neighbors & have children the same ages as mine).

The night before I decided to see if I could go without caffeine for one day. After the events from earlier, I had a DDrP and two cups of coffee. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow? Probably not. We start soccer tomorrow and I'm going to need the caffeine to function. Maybe Sunday? Yes, Sunday sounds better...

So the boys got out their energy and I got part of my sanity back. It is always nice to be able to talk to other moms (as opposed to a wall, which is seriously better than nothing I guess) and hear how it's not just me having these bad days instead of what people usually put on Facebook about having the best kids and husband the world could ever ask for. I want to know what drugs they are taking. Don't get me wrong, not all days are bad. Honestly, they are usually super fun. Tiring, but fun. It also helps that my boys are hilarious and cute and really make my life worth living. 

That being said, I'm also super happy they are in bed. Now I can pick up the house, fold laundry and clean the bathroom! Aw hell, who am I kidding? After I post this, I'm going to pretend to clean up a bit, take some Tylenol PM for all my muscle aches and sit and read a trashy novel. It IS a Friday night after all. I hope you all enjoy your evening and wish my big kid luck tomorrow as he tries to impress his potential soccer coach ;) good night!

 

Back sweat

We live in Alabama and when people say, "oh it's humid outside today", what they are REALLY saying is, "Listen, if you don't have to go outside, dear god DO NOT LEAVE YOUR HOUSE. Your hair will deflate, your make up will run and you will get the inevitable BACK SWEAT"... Bc, and let's face it, I belong to the very select club of the IBTC and boob sweat has never been an issue. It's a harsh reality, but I came to terms with it in high school and thanks to Victoria's Secret, I've been able to look like a woman instead of a pre-pubescent boy.  

So let's fast forward to my physical therapy, shall we? For starters, I love them. If it is possible to have a relationship with a building full of people, then I would do so with them, hahaha. They are all fantastic and what's better is that they L O V E both of my crazy boys. Gray has been going with me since last August (he was only about 5-months old and would just sit there like a perfect little baby doll) so the staff has really watched him grow up. He took his first steps there, basically said his first words there (he is very far behind on his speech, but I am really not worried. He'll talk when he's ready and then he will never shut up, lol) and is a super big attention-whore. (<- side note: yes, I have a potty-mouth. I married a Marine so I guess that's to be expected. If you are able to use the internet and read this, then I am assuming you are also OK with my vocabulary) I feel like it's a win-win. 

Well today, I tried to run 5 minutes on a treadmill. If you've ever been subjected to something you truly despise, then 5 minutes feels like F O R E V E R... And it did. It was the longest 5 minutes of my life. Even when I was "attempting" to let Gray and Jman "cry it out", 5 minutes did not feel like 5 minutes on a treadmill. You know how some people say they NEED a good run every once in a while- whether it be to clear their head, jam out to their favorite Pandora station or listen to an Audiobook (*guilty*)- well, that has never ever EVER been me. I used to joke, "if you ever see me running, call 9-1-1 because someone is trying to kill me". And that is still the truth. If I needed to escape from the pressures of parenting or being a freaking amazing wife (lol, but seriously) or just life in general... I'd go to the pantry (aka "The Jym"), grab some Double Stuffed Oreos and to the fridge for some ice cold milk and sit there and dunk my 3 Oreos in milk for a couple seconds. (I once tried 4 Oreos, but then my boys would wander on over and demand Oreos for them too... And I'm not very good at sharing those bad boys. I used to throw a ball down the hall and see who could get the ball first--- just so I could sneak an Oreo uninterrupted. But they caught on to that too. Smart little Devils) So running for me is most definitely NOT a stress reliever. Maybe some day it will be, but that's probably when I'm old and senile and can't seriously even remember my own name, much less my deep hatred for running. 

Back to PT and the awful treadmill. 

I can usually last the first 1:30 on it without paying attention to the time and just letting my legs take over and my mind wander. But, for real, after that very brief 90 seconds of bliss, the back sweat starts. I have no clue why it can't wait until 4 minutes and 45 seconds before it begins, but 90 seconds seems to be pretty consistent. I find myself eyeing the clock as if it'll make it tick by faster and for some unknown reason, I am almost positive, it actually ticks S L O W E R. It's awful. And my therapists have placed the treadmill in front of a supporting beam so you can't even watch whatever is on TV. I think they do it to torture me. 

So here I am, sweating rain drops and smelling like sweet nectar, when, out of the blue, both boys decide to try and talk to me. Wtf boys, I mean really?! Mommy is having a hard enough time trying to concentrate on BREATHING and now you want me to use what's left of my brain (that they haven't already stolen from me) to try and converse with you? Never mind that Jman has a preschooler's speech impediment and "sock" could mean SOCK, SHARK, SHOT, SHIT and who knows what else. And not to mention Gray only speaks in grunts and expects me to understand AND respond. Smh. The last 3 minutes DRAGGED on. I finally finished what seemed like 2 miles - AT LEAST- when lo and behold I look to see it was only freaking POINT  FOUR-ZERO miles. Yes, not even half a mile. And my back... Full of sweat... I have no clue how I'm supposed to be able to run 5 miles in 2-1/2 months. My Dr has way more confidence in my running abilities than I do. For realz. 

The rest of the day was spent inside as I determined that yes, Alabama's humidity is awful. And yes, back sweat is awful. And no, I did not want to spend any more of the day suffering outside. Get it together, Alabama. Quickly. The boys made a complete mess out of my house and I need tomorrow to be a decent temperature. PLEASE!!

"The Dream Sucker"

Have you ever looked at your child(ren) and thought, "oh man, I make SUPER cute babies!" And then that thought leads you into thinking that maybe you should make MORE super cute babies? Yeah, I was there last night when the baby started screaming at 4 am and proceeded to fall asleep ON me. He gave me the cutest little smile in his sleep and I just "know" he was dreaming about his mama :) And I thought, "ok, just ONE more... Maybe I'll have a girl, right?"

So this morning, reality started to sink in. And by "reality" of course, I mean God stepped and reminded me why two boys are really enough for me to handle. I typically get woken up by Jman around 6:45-7am bc that boy is incapable of sleeping in. Ever. Well, this morning, my husband got up with him---- as I was apparently out cold, covered in drool with my eye mask only covering one eye (... I guess that's the universal sign that I needed a little more sleep???)  Well, Baby Gray woke me up a little after 9 and we seriously made the scene from Home Alone (you know, where they are all frantically running towards the airplane) look like a complete joke. I made it to the gym before I realized I was wearing my Toms... Awesome. But, I'm a bad ass so I took a Barre class (highly recommend that) and left feeling like I had the energy I needed to make it throughout the day.

About 15 minutes after Gray went down for his nap, I started making my Physical Therapists some chocolate chip cookies and made Jman and I some lunch. I grabbed my favorite drink of all time (Diet Dr. Pepper- duh!) and popped some cookies in the oven. I guess my mind was elsewhere bc when the timer went off, it scared the be-Jesus out of me, causing me to smack my DDrP can... which  ricocheted between the couch and back to the end table before landing with a very loud THUD on our floor and exploded into my face. I tried to cover the can but the bomb had already exploded. It. Got. Everywhere. I ran into the kitchen like I was finishing a freaking Iron Man race and practically threw the can into the sink. Of course Jman was so elated that I was the one that made the mess and not him, that he started busting up laughing. I couldn't help myself and I was laughing too. I burnt that batch of cookies, by the way.

I decided it would be best to take a shower after that fiasco, but it turns out, it was a pretty pointless effort. Not 5 minutes into watering my garden (which was about 10 min after my shower), the stretchable hose (you know, the one that shrinks when you turn off the water and expands again when you turn it back on... Yeah, don't buy a knock off...) starts to leak. I remember thinking, "hmmm, that's odd, I wonder why it's leaking waaaaaaaaa....." And then BOOM!!! The hose explodes. The water blast hits me square in between the eyes- sending my glasses God know where. So (of course) I drop the hose and scream like I've just had my arm cut off and my 4-yr is laughing so hard, I think he's probably peed himself, but since I am blind without my glasses, I can't be 100% sure of that. I ended up finding my glasses and tried to save my dignity and pride by finishing up watering the garden in my completely drenched (and now see-through) white shirt and shorts. I decided it was time to bake some more cookies...

I went into our laundry room/ pantry to change clothes and grab some powdered sugar (for the icing) and was brutally attacked by a wasp-like flying insect. I have no clue what it was, but it was created by the Devil. That, I am sure of. It kept flying into my face and somehow my ninja moves were not successful today.

I gave up on cookies.

I ate the cookie dough outside on my front porch and read my trashy novel.

Then the baby woke and life continued on as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

And this is why two boys are enough for me, but just as a reminder to everyone else who keeps telling me I should try for a girl... Let's recap the last 4-1/2 years. Highlights only.


Jman:

Birth: traumatic doesn't even cover it... And if you've never had a baby, don't ask me about my birth stories. They will scare you into adopting lol.

0-6 months: colic, got a "pee-stache"/peed in the eye, throw-up in the mouth, deployed spouse, LOTS of plane-time with a baby (traveling by myself of course), doesn't sleep through the night

1-2yrs: Desitin-ed the dog/walls/carpet/appliances/himself, put plastic Tupperware in the oven (of course I neglected to think of that possibility before preheating it), numerous eggs were damaged when he became a "helper", discovered his artistic side with Sharpee, still doesn't sleep through the night

2-3yrs: poop in the closet, poop on my comforter, pooped and WIPED it in my nose (and it got stuck behind my nose ring), poop on his walls/carpet/IN the vent/himself/shoes, pooped in a book (the day I found out Gray was a boy), painted his toenails with my OPI red nail polish... And his carpet too (looked like a murder scene), still doesn't sleep through the night

3-4: decides he wants to be more like dad (lots of pee missing the toilet, lots of body/face art with markers, all about his penis), using tampons as tobacco products, using tampons to conduct the choir, confusing tampons as "female penises"...


The list really does go on...

Gray is just starting out, but I imagine it's only a matter of time before I get grey hairs popping up...

So yes, I am happy having ONLY two boys. Can you imagine if we brought a girl or (Heaven forbid ANOTHER) boy into this craziness lol. Nope, not going there.

Enjoy your even y'all! Same time, same place for tomorrow's adventure recap!!