Wall of Wonder

Today, in an effort to remind myself not to eat junky foods, I decided to put on a pair of jeans that are uncomfortably tight.  Now, we are not talking about some low-rise sexy, tight jeans (these don't look good on me anyway because a certain no-butt, yes-muffin top situation), instead these bad boys are the kind that cut into you at the waist.  I put on a looser shirt to disguise the torture.  Yes, I may be a bit masochistic, and in the end, it didn't work anyway.  I just drank a Starbucks coffee and ate a low-fat coffee cake (which is still like eating a hamburger) and now I sit here wondering if the button is going to pop off and break my computer screen.  This may not have been the wisest choice, but it certainly keeps me more aware than walking around in the vast expanse of my sweat pants. 

Aside from the tight pants party I'm having, I am determined to keep this day in a positive swing, though the elements are certainly conspiring against me. 

For the last two days, for some unknown reason, I feel like I am in a constant rush.  Because of this, I have been rather impatient with my kids, which is immediately followed by regret, then much needed apologies.  This terrible cycle is at its worst in the last ten minutes before we leave home for Eli's school drop off, Marina to the babysitter, and me on to work.  Eli suddenly forgets how to put his pants on or Marina pours out all her cheerios on the floor then picks them back up and eats a bunch of cat hair. 

Today, as I was taking deep breaths (though not too deep given my tight pants situation) to keep calm when Eli's shrill voice cut through.  "Mommy!  I had a little accident."  Hmmm.  We are past the age of peeing and pooping pants, so normally this indicates a spill (i.e. whole gallons of juice spilling on the floor).  I calmly asked what kind of accident.  "I got a little pee on the wall."  Hmmm.  I asked him how in the world he managed to pee on the wall.  He answered with, "I wasn't paying attention.  I got distracted."  Distracted by what in a stark white bathroom with no windows?  When I went into the bathroom to survey the situation, it was not good.  He had managed to pee toward the corner, where two walls met just behind the toilet.  Since it was a corner, he got a good amount on both walls.  The cheap paint (that I have been meaning to repaint) just seemed to soak in the urine.  So with only minutes to spare before we hit the inevitable 'late' mark, I had lean behind the toilet and wipe down the walls and floor, and even the small garbage can below that he generously sprayed.  I told him I wasn't so sure it was an accident.  He insisted it was.  I was out of breath from bending over in my tight pants and not pleased with having my face that close to the dripping toilet but we had to move on since we had a tight schedule to follow and everyone was still in their respective pajamas (minus me, the tight-pants wonder). 

Hours later, the annoyance has past and I am happily humming to myself.  I managed to survive the Great Wall Piss of 2010.  I may make a t-shirt that proclaims my bravery.  That's right, I am a positive person and I am saving up for a cleaning lady who will willingly lean her face near our toilets.   

Pick and Stick

In our house, we have rather strict rules.  The result of such rules naturally is exceedingly well-behaved children and healthy, fit parents.

There is a lot of nose-picking that goes on in our home.  I will not tell you the percentage of child picking vs parent picking.  I will let you take your best guess on that one.  There is no condemnation for the pick here, that is, if it is performed in accordance with some strict rules.  If the pick yields shall we say,"fruit," it is to be properly disposed of.  There is never to be wiping on or behind furniture, walls or any other place my hand my accidentally brush past it in the future.  If you must flick it, please make sure no one is in the line of fire.  If you are flicking in the car, be sure the window is down (although this one is not recommended as highly since the flick is not always a precise action;  it is not uncommon for me to look back in the car see a booger on the window nearest to my son that has been haphazardly flicked there).  Under no circumstances is the nose pick to be followed by a finger licking (in this case, we are so grateful to have a son that is horrified by unsanitary things.  In 4-1/2 years, eating boogers has never even occurred to his little mind.)

With all these rules in place, you can imagine my young son's fear of breaking one of them.  It has become common for him pick and then come to me to present his findings and wait for further instruction.  Usually he is running at me with a small pointer finger suspended in air or screaming at me from the back of the car.  In this case, I typically hand him a Kleenex (or toilet paper in our house) so he can dispose of the evidence.

But lately, as he is getting older, he has taken on this responsibility for himself.  He still shows me his treasures but then gets rid of them on his own (according to the strict rules, of course).  I've been impressed by this.  That is, until I was sitting on the toilet the other day and reached for the toilet paper.  My eyes stopped on a small, dark, flaky spot on the roll.  Ah ha!  Eli has been regularly wiping his boogers on the toilet paper roll, but in an attempt to conserve and not be wasteful (his mama is raising him to be sensitive to the environment), he has opted to not tear off a sheet and throw it away, but rather wipe on the outside of the roll and leave it to its luck.  So now we all have to constantly aware, lest we wipe boogers on our butts.  I should put up a sign in the bathroom to warn any guests:  Beware of Boogers.

Still, if I had to choose between a kid who wipes his boogers on my living room wall or one that tricks me into wiping my butt with one, I would choose the latter any day.  We have to keep up appearances, and boogers on the wall just say trashy (but luckily not the piles of laundry on the stairs or a mom who regularly can be seen wandering around in her pajamas at all hours of the day).

I'm including a picture of the wiper and one of the future wiper, just for good measure.

List of Nonsense

Several unrelated things:

1.  The last two weeks could be officially called the Weeks of Sickness.  Both of my kids got a nasty virus (although thankfully not at the same time) that wiped them out and made their mommy into a ball of stress and anxiety (yes, I know I have issues, I'm thinking about dealing with them soon).

Because of the repercussions of last week, I am officially declaring this week to be The Week of Cleaning, which starts immediately (although I had this in my mind but then sat down to write this blog since Marina is sleeping - my concept of immediately means later).  I plan to clean all the house and sanitize it.  Unfortunately, my time is rather limited and I have a crew that comes behind me and messes up everything I clean, so the odds are rather against me.  But as an eternal optimist, I will press on and will triumph (after I get off my computer).

2.  An undesirable fact was recently brought to my attention:  the cinnamon brown sugar pop tarts I eat every morning with my coffee have 420 calories in them.  This is more than an Arby's roast beef sandwich.  This may explain some persistent weight gain that I have blamed on a self-diagnosed under-active thyroid.  So from now on, I'm going to eat an Arby's roast beef sandwich with my coffee in the morning (although this morning, with the 420 calories on my mind, I ate those darned pop tarts anyway and told myself that I wouldn't eat anything else today.  This resolution will likely last 20 more minutes.)

3.  While I already shared this on facebook this morning, I'm adding it to this blog for good measure.  This morning at breakfast, Eli asked me what would happen if his wiener and nuts were broken.  It told him he would probably pee all over the place.  He told me, "No.  I would just pee all over the Pyramids of Egypt!"  That would require quite a bit of pressure, but he did drink a while cup of water in the night so maybe...

Now I must go clean my bedroom before the stacks of clothes cause the floor to fall in and we have to start sleeping in the living room on top of dirty clothes.  I might need to eat another pop tart to get my strength up first though...

As an addition...
Oh brother, as I just finished typing this, Eli violently sneezed all over me and my computer.  I literally had spit/snot dripping down the screen.  Good thing this is the Week of Cleaning.  I feel like I need to go take a shower.

Rescue Squad

This week I am having a bit of a dilemma as a mom.  My maternal instincts tell me to protect my children at all costs, so if a speeding car was heading right for them, I would jump in front of it to grab them.  If my house was burning, rather than jump out the nearest window, I would run out my bedroom door (even if the doorknob was hot!), and into their room, wrap them up in wet towels, wrap a mattress around them and somehow gently lower them to the ground (this plan may need some work). 

You could say that my protecting instinct might run a bit hot from time to time.  I may want to slap the kid that walks by my daughter and coughs on her.  I might also sit and stress about things that are completely out of my control (this might be the understatement of the year).

I can almost handle protecting them physically (as much as my weak body will allow), but somehow I don't know how to protect them emotionally.  I know that in life they will have some hardships and pain, but as a mother, I don't know how I will be able to handle that. 

This week, on the drive home from school, Eli told me that one of his little friends (one that he talks about all the time) told him he/she (we are going for anonymity here) didn't want to play with him and that they weren't friends.  He told me he/she told him this twice.  As he related the story to me, his eyes were big and it looked like he wanted to cry.  He asked me why he/she would say that.  I wanted to tell him that he/she was just a nasty little boy/girl (this is weird), but for once, I decided to act responsibly.  I told him that he/she may have just been having a bad day.  But really I was ready to whoop some booty.  How dare someone hurt my boy's feelings!  Clearly this is still upsetting to me. 

I am not dumb enough to think that I will never have to witness my kids' emotional pain, but I don't know how I am going to be able to handle it as they grow older and it gets to be more than just some brat kid telling them that they are not friends. 

I probably will not handle it well and I'll end up being one of those parents on the news that runs on the football field and beats up a 10-year-old player. 

So, if you hear about a preschool kid that got his/her bike anonymously broken, now you know why... (I'm just kidding, before you judge me and then report me to the local authorities for being ridiculously crazy).

Do-Nut Do That!

Last night, though Marina woke me up 20 times, I still managed to have a number of nonsensical dreams.

One of the more vivid ones was this:

I had a delicious Dunkin Donuts Boston Creme doughnut sitting in the brown Dunkin bag on my coffee table, waiting to be consumed.  As usual, I went around the house accomplishing tasks, waiting for the right time to savor the scrumptious treat.  When I finally decided to eat it, the brown bag was empty.  I panicked and looked around.  There it was: on the floor, torn up in pieces, covered in cat hair.  Fat Linda sat a few feet away looking quite guilty.

Immediately I was filled with rage.  I chased her around the house and tried to kick her while her sausage body tried to elude me.  I decided then and there we were going to get rid of her and give her to someone who is considering a strict diet.

Then I woke up this morning and pondered the dream.   Her offense was a serious one.  A Boston Creme doughnut is a treasure, but I'm surprised at my actions.  If this happened in real life, I would never have given her away!  I would have beaten her to death...

Can't no one put my doughnut on the floor (and definitely not put their fat cat mouths all over it!)  So let this be a lesson...