No, it was a frog

Made in America

“Save U.S. Jobs. Buy American,” Boasted the bumper sticker on the back of a Jeep. Which started me thinking that it was a good idea, but is it a feasible one? Can we purchase all the products we need that are only made in America? I mean ones that are truly made here, not ones that have parts that are from somewhere else or that are assembled elsewhere. Since at the moment every toy in the box at home is made in China and may be covered in lead-based paint…This is an idea that is worth looking into.

WC cons Jay
I arrive home last night to discover WC eating a bowl of mashed potatoes. Now with my recent quest to put healthier items in him, I feel his dinner tonight should consist of more than one thing being starch since I had plans on cooking. But Jay felt that since WC hadn’t eaten anything for dinner since I had decided he was eating healthier that he wanted to get something more in him at dinner. You fool, I thought. Because WC didn’t eat but a couple of bites and said he was done; Jay practically began begging him to eat.
Don’t beg him to eat. He gets power over you when he doesn’t do what you so desperately want. A three year old should not have power over the adult. He will not starve, when his hunger outweighs his stubbornness then he will eat what I put in front of him. He doesn’t know what is best for him; as adults we do. I am willing to be the hard-ass if it keeps my son healthy and his bathroom visits pain-free.

Insomniac
Usually, I do not have problems going to sleep or going back to sleep after waking up in the middle of the night. But at 2 something this morning WC woke us up yelling from his room. Jay went to check on him; WC told him that he wanted to talk top him. Jay put him back to bed and started his “night-night music” back. The Jay came back & fell asleep right away. I had the unfortunate experience to not be able to quit thinking. “Monkey Brain” I’ve heard it called because your thoughts are like a bunch of monkeys jumping around. I had just dozed off when WC began yelling, “Daddy, turn my music over.” Which means he wants the cd started again; he knows it’s on the last song. It was 3:30 a.m. & I was mad. I told him to lie down & go to sleep. It was too early in the morning. I was not starting the music over. He would have to go to sleep and I didn’t want another word. He obeyed and I eventually drifted back off to sleep. He probably thought I was a “mean” mommy after that, but like Bill Engvall says, “Nice stops at midnight.”
*Unless, of course he is, in fact, ill.

Lunch errands
Today at lunch I am going to the store to purchase a birthday present for my best friends son is turning 2 & party is tomorrow. And WC came home from preschool w/ a list of supplies he needs by Tuesday.

Labor Day Weekend
We have the aforementioned birthday party tomorrow 2-4. Then my brother-in-law has a cookout at 5:30. (I wish I already had the baby sling for CJ that I want, but I have to order it and it can’t arrive by in the morning at this point). So far nothing planned for the actual Labor Day on Monday (and I’m o.k. with that). WC is going to his grandma’s for the day; he’ll love that.

Humor
The other night Jay & WC were wresting when WC passed gas. Jay asked him if it was him & without missing a beat he replied, “No, it was a frog.”

Objects in the mirror

"If you can't see my mirrors then I can't see you." Warns the sign on the back of an 18 wheel truck. I've seen these before and have wondered how far behind a truck do you have to be? During my commute this morning I was behind such a truck & decided to test this out.
I kept dropping further and further back from my test truck & i was about five car lengths behind (normal size cars, not the big ass ford monstrosities) and I still couldn't see the mirrors on either side. And other commuters are mad at me at this point. It wasn't until on a curve on the interstate that I could see the mirror on the driver's side. The results of my test show that if you are directly behind a truck you cant see the mirrors; you have to ride the line on either side of you in order to be in view of said mirrors. Do they know this when posting the signs on the truck? Do they expect anyone to attempt to drop back far enough? Perhaps 10 car lengths might be enough but I'm not willing to be shot in morning traffic to find out.
Now I don't think 18 wheel trucks should be allowed on the interstate in major metropolitan areas during rush hour. I know that they have to make a living by making their deliveries. However, the trek down the interstate at rush hour takes me 45 min- 1 hour. When it isn't rush hour the exact same distance takes me 25-30 min. It would make sense they could make it much faster time if they weren't in rush hour. It isn't the truckers fault that they can only go 25 mph up a hill when they are loaded down; they have to ride the brakes all the way down the other side of the hill to keep from ploughing over the Yugo in from of them. So, perhaps it would be easier on the trucker. I know it'll never happen, but one can dream.

WC's Project Eating Healthier: Tues night; cooked fish, potato & green beans. Verdict: He ate nothing; just stared at his plate.
Wed night: Jay worked late; I didn't cook. He ate a hot dog; a half of an apple slice (after the skin stuck on his gum the willingness to eat it was over). But he tried it, which was a step in the right direction.
Tonight will try cooking again & see.

Motherhood lesson #236741: You can not force a child to eat.(nor his father).

Join me next time when I find WC wearing CJ's 6 month size bloomers.

Quotation Tuesday

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.

Cyril Connolly (1903-1974)

Life aint always beautiful

Motherhood lesson 1:
Sometimes it just plain sucks.

This morning on my way to work Jay calls me & says WC is complaining that his tummy hurts and he can’t poop. So I drop off CJ and turn around and head back home; stop off at the store for a child’s enemas. I dared the cashier to tell me to ‘have a good day.’ Cause when you’re in the store at 7 am and the only thing you are purchasing is an enemas, it’s not going to be a good day.

So I get home; WC has found the catalog of a mail order company specializing in themes for children’s birthdays & his fourth birthday is less than two months away. He is enamored with the Cars movie themed items and doesn’t realize that I have returned home to deal with him. And when we bring him to the bathroom, he realizes that something is about to happen to him and he’s not going to like it. It takes both of us several minutes to wrestle him into appropriate positioning and he’s fighting us tooth and nail. And I have the pleasant task of administration.

As I finish I say, “He’s gotta stay in position.”
Jay picks him up; the liquid all falls out.
“He was supposed to stay in position for 2-5 minutes.”
Jay looks shocked, “I didn’t know.”

Now, I’d told him before we started & he’d “read” the box too. Oh, & there was the thing I said right after I’d finished, “He’s got to stay in position.”
“Oh, I thought you said that he wasn’t in position.”
“O.k. even if you thought I said he wasn’t in position why would I bring it up if it wasn’t important for him to be in it?” Not to mention that he didn’t pay a bit of attention to anything I said when I was talking to him about what the box said we were supposed to do!
OMG. I don’t think I’ve been more upset about anything in recent history.
Luckily, our activity apparently stimulated things and WC did have a BM.

I have declared to both of them that there will be changes in the dietary habits of our household. WC hasn’t eaten anything but macaroni and cheese for a couple weeks now and that’s coming to an end. Jay is 34 with high blood pressure and changes are a coming for him as well. They will be eating more fruits and vegetables because all junk food is hereby banished from this household & will only be occasional treats. This isn’t WC’s first bought with constipation but I have vowed that if it happens again it will not be from me not providing the proper diet. I admit that after having CJ, I haven’t been as vigilant with cooking proper food. And it has just been easier to microwave a bowl of easy mac then to listen to him protest that he doesn’t like anything on his plate, despite never having tried any of it. No more. I’ve dropped the ball on that part of my parenting recently and now it’s past time to correct it. Eventually he will eat something on his plate.
Now, I just have to find things that are quick, nutritious and taste good too. If anyone has any ideas or suggestions, send me an email.

Join me next time when I discover CJ’s diaper has leaked for the fourth time in three hours.

The Funny Thing About Goals

CJ’s goal: To “eat” his weight in formula every day.
WC’s goal: To con his way into eating his weight in junk every day.
Jay’s goal: To come home and not do anything.
My goal: To sleep; have peace and quiet.

Other goals that I have for myself include finishing the rough draft of my novel by years end; then to have a revised draft finished by next summer. It’s an ambitious goal for me when the pace in which I write isn’t exactly fast; I’ve been working on this rough draft on and off for about two years. I fear that after all this time that I won’t finish. I fear if I do finish it will never be published (a very likely fear in today’s publishing world). And I fear if I do get published I will not be able to follow it up. So, I fear failing and succeeding all at the same time. How neurotic is that? The funny thing about goals is they can sometimes be as much a hindrance as a help.

Goals that don’t make me sound like a lunatic include: raising my sons to be happy, healthy and well mannered. Living within my means and somehow save money.

Motherhood lesson # 76428930
A baby’s smile will melt away the cares of the day.

Happy Day to anyone who bothers to read this.

Join me next time when I discover my Dad knows a little too much about High School Musical.

Motherhood lesson # 65872168
If you don’t tell your toddler to put on his underwear first, he probably won’t.


Yesterday my 3 year old arrived home from preschool with his “evaluation” which is where they test your child on things they should know or be learning & then inform you about everything they don’t know. Some of the things they say he doesn’t know I can’t believe. He hasn’t mastered knowing his name when written. “He does too!” I say out loud. And a shocking number of letters and numbers he can’t identify…according to them. I know him; sometimes he just gets silly and gives wrong answers on purpose. He thinks he’s being funny.
I’ve discovered I’m going to be the kind of mother he hates when it comes to school work. Since I then proceed to get the magna doodle and quiz him while he tried to eat dinner. Eventually after the 18th letter, his response to every question began to be “poopie.” I then realized it was time for a break. “O.k. just answer this one last one and I’ll let you eat.” And he replied, “Poopie.”
I hate when he says that & I try not to let him know it. Cause being 3 he’d say it more just to annoy me. It’s what toddlers do. They test us, they test their boundaries & they just want to know what will happen if they do fill in the blank. And that fill in the blank could be seeing what happens when he turns a flip off the back of the couch to seeing if he can drink milk from a “regular” cup while lying down. Sometimes his tests don’t work out. But then again it’s that life, as adults things don’t always turn out the way we expect or even want. So maybe that’s what all this testing is about, it’s preparation to be able to roll with all of life’s up and downs. Good to know it’s useful for something.

Please join me next time when I discover my toddler trying to put peas in his baby brother’s nose.

Missing my baby

So, I'm sitting here at work; the phone's are dead & there's nothing to do. Well, except surf the internet. Which I may have been doing a little bit before the phone's left for the day. But anyway. I'm sitting here staring at the pics taken of my baby yesterday. I took him for his three month pictures. I take tons of pictures myself but dont have access to the extensive backgrounds. But, I digress. I'm staring at my baby's photo & missing him terribly. I haven't been back to work three weeks yet and I'm dying. I didnt want to come back but we ran out of money & the two children need food & shelter. Atleast I get to leave him w/ my mom. That's one consolation on the whole deal.

Saturday afternoon I left the baby with my sister, so we could take the three year old swimming. It's 102 outside, the baby couldnt go. She's not very experienced w/ such a young baby and I dont think she'll agree to babysit again, for a little while. When we arrived back home that evening she looked a little worse for wear and said all he did was "puke and poot." It seems he had some issues w/ gas. Oh well it's good birth control for her. He's not a difficult baby, she just doesnt know how to tend to him.

The problem with nothing to do at work is that I'm now hungry. I've snacked way too much today. YAY, they're sending us home...