tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21954455667682205262024-03-19T01:28:15.381-07:00The Quirky ConfessionsDays in the Life of a Stay at Home Mom
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-901175711521587922014-04-06T08:38:00.000-07:002014-04-06T08:38:51.784-07:00Tales From A Three Year Old<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">My three year old is a story teller, a fibber and a tad bit of a white liar . . . minus the tad bit and white.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">I've never really cared what people have thought of me, either you like me, or you don't . . . then, my oldest daughter turned three (now almost four) and suddenly I have become a little self conscious. I'm certainly not perfect, I've never claimed to be perfect and I never will, however, her story telling has me 100% convinced that I will win the weirdo mom of the year award.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Story Number 1 . . . </b>I don't feed my kids food.</span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">It goes back to about six months ago when she came home from school with a backpack filled with paintings. She immediately grabbed two easel sized drawings that were smothered in brown paint and handed one to her sister and kept one for herself. I told her that her paintings were beautiful, and praised her for sharing. As I walked away I heard her say,<i> "Here Charlotte, I painted you this nice big piece of steak." </i>I turned around and told her that it was very creative that she painted some steak and this is what she said next , <i>"Yes, I told my teachers that you don't feed us, so I needed to make some food for me and my sister to eat." </i>What?! I feed you! On top of feeding you, I bribe you with ice cream cones and jello snack packs if you actually eat a decent meal! To set the record straight, I can assure you I give my kids food.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Story Number 2 . . . I have a baby in my belly.</b></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">One day I was dropping my oldest off at preschool when I realized she had stuffed a figurine of Peppa Pig's little brother George in her Pocket. As we got out of the car I reminded her that bringing toys from home was not a good idea, so I stuffed George in the front pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. Now this was when she was going through a really big Peppa Pig phase, she actually spoke with a British accent introduced herself to strangers as Peppa. Thankfully, that has stopped, but not before she told me that she said to her teachers that I was "<i>keeping her little brother safe and warm in my belly."</i> I mean I guess that wasn't entirely a lie because I did walk around with a pig figurine that she referred to as her little brother in my pocket for one day, but I can assure you that there a no real live babies in there. It was one day, and we're talking about a plastic pig.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Story Number 3 . . . I sleep in the parking lot of her preschool while she's inside.</b></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">Just the other day I picked her up from school, and as always I was eager to hear about her day. Before I could even ask about it she said to me, <i>"Mommy, do you miss me while I'm in school, or do you have fun sleeping in your car while you wait for me to come out?"</i> I responded, <i>"Of course I miss you Lanie, but I don't sleep in my car!" </i>Her reply, <i>"Oh, well I told my teachers you do. We all had fun looking out the window for you." </i>Awesome.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><br />
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-large;">AND THE WEIRDO MOM OF THE<br />YEAR </b><b style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-large;">GOES TO . . .</b></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;">(It's only by default, I swear.)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br />The Quirky Confessions: Days in the Life of a Stay at Home Mom</b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-11426699553532579792014-03-27T15:08:00.000-07:002014-03-27T15:08:20.459-07:00Mother's Little Helper<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">No, I'm not referring to The Rolling Stones hit from the 60's, I'm referring to my kids. Some of you may have them . . . the kids who always want to "help" out. Nine out of ten times if you're not paying close attention to their help tactics, this can lead to disaster.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrhtyVF_UTqYm_uIP4DWOmLjFeGFBLC_0MqfosBHbKHdXE4IdlYPXj0WdFOc22r87Si7HyQub5IUVdT4-h3eVELq8lJK3uR_-y67DihQnvMnR2x3x31Le1bpw9S1SYmOHaJxQSg0jLk24/s1600/caillou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Caillou - NOT Mother's Little Helper!" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrhtyVF_UTqYm_uIP4DWOmLjFeGFBLC_0MqfosBHbKHdXE4IdlYPXj0WdFOc22r87Si7HyQub5IUVdT4-h3eVELq8lJK3uR_-y67DihQnvMnR2x3x31Le1bpw9S1SYmOHaJxQSg0jLk24/s1600/caillou.jpg" height="200" title="Caillou - NOT Mother's Little Helper! http://www.pinterest.com/pin/574631233674863057/" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">First off, let me state that I'm very grateful to have kids that are so willing to "help" me out. It's a nice alternative to kids that plop themselves on the couch all day and demand watching that bald, little brat <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/574631233674863057/" target="_blank">Caillou</a> on Nick Jr. <i>(Although, sometimes I secretly wish that they were more of the TV watching type.) </i></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This leads me to:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: purple;">Disaster Number 1 - Cooking</span></b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvon1QDawjj0_ci_0tM7VFiXE7F6MzrCcnRfTH4DfOjCM53zjyI7JdUh-MDPBrXL6A_tKKtUw9Dmdjpd6NQ52UdMePXXKpFJCkSGWV9ehcDctzS0gFLSSM9RhxcNmaJwZaK5oEEb0Ixb0/s1600/making+meatballs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mother's Little Helper - Making Meatballs ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvon1QDawjj0_ci_0tM7VFiXE7F6MzrCcnRfTH4DfOjCM53zjyI7JdUh-MDPBrXL6A_tKKtUw9Dmdjpd6NQ52UdMePXXKpFJCkSGWV9ehcDctzS0gFLSSM9RhxcNmaJwZaK5oEEb0Ixb0/s1600/making+meatballs.jpg" height="172" title="Mother's Little Helper - Making Meatballs ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A few weeks back my kids "helped" me make meatballs and sauce to put in the crock-pot for dinner that night. Their help during this fun filled, cooking activity lead to everyone needing immediate baths, and a kitchen ceiling coated with red sauce. </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Don't ask.</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> After cleaning everyone up, and attempting to clean spaghetti sauce off our ceiling, I clearly needed a shower myself. I thought that I could put a movie on to keep them occupied during my three minute shower sprint. As I left the room I heard my oldest whisper to my youngest </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"As soon as Mommy gets in the shower we can make something that we want to eat for dinner instead."</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Obviously this prompted me to hold off on my shower sprint and see what they were up to. I left the room and stood by the door. I witnessed them gather their magnetic letters off of my dishwasher and attempt to put them in the crock pot to make "alphabet soup". Thankfully, I was able to stop them in their tracks. I did not fit a shower in, and that's okay. I didn't need anymore disasters . . . the kitchen ceiling was enough for one day.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">Disaster number 2 - Laundry</span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">What's better than laundry helpers? They can gather clothes, load and attempt to fold. They can even match your socks for you! They can also let a disposable diaper get past you and into the washing machine in the blink of an eye. I really thought my mom skills were right on track that day. . . I was able to feed my kids, dress them and had even timed my "helping hand" laundry cycle perfectly so that I could switch the clothes over to the dryer before we left to go to an animal adventure show at my oldest daughter's preschool. Well, not the case. I told my kids, "</span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">as soon as the washing machine beeps, we'll switch the stuff over to the dryer and we can go." </i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">I even had enough time to grab a coffee on the way. No, no I didn't. I had enough time to deal with the reality that I had a shredded wet diaper all over our clean clothes. I did not have time to clean that up, despite having my very ready and will helping hands, </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">and </i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">still get to the school on time. </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">(Even though I tried.)</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;"> I left the big mess, skipped out on my coffee, but arrived just in time for the big boa constrictors to be released from their crates. Fun! Note to self: Don't wear a black sweater when attempting to clean a wet shredded diaper out of your washer and off of your clothes. Otherwise, you may end up at animal day with sticky, white diaper particles all over yourself resembling jumbo sized dandruff flakes. </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-weight: normal;">Fail.</i></span></h4>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOlprZTDdleJColY30FPZFt1ZwZ9qwrdtiwTk0FbL9vCp3rUvGajb9xoE2wIs62toWFNlrkart_ZN-as8eniS2StK0VgeHgl3TRg9fANQ1ITsSlVO3AKYa88yqA8VL7p2dc4ajetyq7k/s1600/blues-clues-pink-paw-md.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Mother's Little Helper - Paw Prints ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOlprZTDdleJColY30FPZFt1ZwZ9qwrdtiwTk0FbL9vCp3rUvGajb9xoE2wIs62toWFNlrkart_ZN-as8eniS2StK0VgeHgl3TRg9fANQ1ITsSlVO3AKYa88yqA8VL7p2dc4ajetyq7k/s1600/blues-clues-pink-paw-md.png" height="198" title="Mother's Little Helper - Paw Prints ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">Update: I'm happy to report that my kids have recently shown a sudden interest in the kid's TV show, Blues Clues. This has been my savior when it comes to taking showers. This also took a turn for the worst </span><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT98_com_zimbra_date" style="cursor: pointer;">today</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">while I was doing a load of laundry without my little helpers. <i>(This was immediately following my shower and they were engaged in the show, so I did not interrupt them for help. . . I should have.)</i> While I was in the bathroom gathering clothes, they took the laundry baskets and used them as make shift stools to get on the counter and get their hands on some cherry flavored Chapstick. During the 45 seconds that I was out of the room, they coated their hands with it and slapped chap-sticky hand prints all over our stainless steel fridge while yelling <i>"PAW PRINT CLUES!"</i> Sigh. At least they helped me clean it off.</span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-15221031978890452992014-03-20T07:41:00.001-07:002014-03-20T10:29:02.802-07:00The Quirky Confessions #Kickstarter Campaign has Launched!<div class="full-description">
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<img alt="#Kickstarter has launched! - TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgypZj5NuTMKWKYTRNsILI3liJoSUf57LN0eT7JyF8PUjvj0cUF8cDbbHoOVw3T6-fx5zlk90MIEIb-bg3sJ2dUQFTw37KSsubDseW0Ytd4afFR3rUmjvzd3trFrBzy0sZfZcMcVfUuHIU/s1600/Kickstarter_Image.jpg" height="240" title="#Kickstarter has launched! - TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="320" /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">We are so happy to announce that our <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: purple;"><a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thequirkyconfessions/the-quirky-confessions-days-in-the-life-of-a-sahm" target="_blank"><b>Kickstarter</b> </a></span></span>campaign has "kicked" off!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Our goal is to raise funds to print and bind our book, <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://thequirkyconfessions.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #20124d;"><i><b>"The Quirky Confessions: Days in the Life of a Stay at Home Mom"</b></i></span></a></span><span style="color: #351c75; font-style: italic;">.</span> We have been working on it for over a year now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Please visit our kickstarter page to read the <span style="color: purple;"><b><a href="https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/thequirkyconfessions/the-quirky-confessions-days-in-the-life-of-a-sahm" target="_blank">full story</a></b> </span>about what we have been up to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">There are several levels of cool, quirky rewards when you make a donation, including the printed book. And . . . you will receive your rewards <i>before</i> Mother's Day - great for gift giving!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Check them out!</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-28237660736730752942014-03-18T07:32:00.000-07:002014-03-18T07:32:04.868-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Happy St. Patrick's Day!</b></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-31234089065984963952014-03-15T07:22:00.000-07:002014-03-15T07:22:10.754-07:00My Picky Eaters<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xPvPD7FvT_H_n907i5gcFFiIWXn4ujlBvBukxqxmgPMe4OIHjS5UK9_CzTEOdEGU1vkkbo0nDT8SgiLh8Nlv6NIzF2VLlr53OCQ021HQ_r5qGkSFtL9UBAwXngMP1HiEeSoLfI8ASwE/s1600/WeeklyBlogPostSymbols+5+22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="My Picky Eaters ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xPvPD7FvT_H_n907i5gcFFiIWXn4ujlBvBukxqxmgPMe4OIHjS5UK9_CzTEOdEGU1vkkbo0nDT8SgiLh8Nlv6NIzF2VLlr53OCQ021HQ_r5qGkSFtL9UBAwXngMP1HiEeSoLfI8ASwE/s1600/WeeklyBlogPostSymbols+5+22.jpg" height="178" title="My Picky Eaters ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">Let me start by saying I didn't always have picky eaters. My first born </span><span style="background-color: white;">would pretty much eat everything that was given to her from a young age on. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Both baby food and mealtimes were quick favorites. From the moment I noticed </span><span style="background-color: white;">her first tooth, I couldn't shovel enough food into her. It started with </span><span style="background-color: white;">Cheerios, and we quickly moved onto fruits, veggies and meats. You name it, </span><span style="background-color: white;">she ate it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My second born was a little more challenging. The mush on the </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">spoon, pretend airplane approach never really worked with her. I don't ever </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">recall getting a drop of baby food in her mouth, but things took a turn when </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">we moved onto solid foods. She was more apt to try stuff, and not like it. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I never worried too much though, just like her big sister she has always </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">been labeled as "healthy", and has ranged in the 90th percentiles for both </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">height and weight.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'd say age two has been the turning point for both of my girls. While my </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">youngest (age 2) has attempted to try and like more foods, my oldest (3 1/2) </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">has pretty much given up on trying anything. For the past year and a half </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">she has been living off of grilled cheese sandwiches, milk, fruit and </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">everything that makes up the chocolate food group. My youngest lives off </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">all of those as well, but with her you can add some meats and a few other </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">things into the mix. Just the other morning she really disgusted her big </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">sister by saying she wanted "more chickens" for breakfast. She was </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">referring to scrambled eggs. (The reason she knows that scrambled eggs come </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">from chickens is because my oldest said this to her a few weeks back, </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>"Yuck. I can't believe you are eating baby chicks."</i> Thankfully, the true </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">reality did not phase my two year old.) This is exactly why my oldest is a picky </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">eater. . .</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The very day that she associated some of the foods she ate as </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">being animals, was the day she stopped eating them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>Example:</i> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQSeHlV9Vr5p4QtUOpH3SmuZu2rU-Rsoyfy3tV17lou4sWQXYQ0T3pCEhd4xAzVLte5U1eNaNvFjI66qQjDJQYwSlQLwoHU6Sx3ksMaBCyQYwJ4prk0oEo5gKR9Hn9vGr69SyjD03IN0w/s1600/Chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="My Picky Eaters: Chicken = Chicken ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQSeHlV9Vr5p4QtUOpH3SmuZu2rU-Rsoyfy3tV17lou4sWQXYQ0T3pCEhd4xAzVLte5U1eNaNvFjI66qQjDJQYwSlQLwoHU6Sx3ksMaBCyQYwJ4prk0oEo5gKR9Hn9vGr69SyjD03IN0w/s1600/Chicken.jpg" height="200" title="My Picky Eaters: Chicken = Chicken ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">If you tell this kid we are having chicken for dinner, you will get this </span><span style="background-color: white;">response, <i>"You cannot make me eat birds!"</i> The same goes for Turkey. It </span><span style="background-color: white;">got really bad when she learned that chickens lay eggs, and figured out that </span><span style="background-color: white;">those scrambled or fried eggs on her plate are "baby chicks". She will NOT </span><span style="background-color: white;">eat baby chicks. She will not eat steak, because she knows it's a cow, I'm </span><span style="background-color: white;">not sure who told her, but it wasn't me. However, she will eat </span><span style="background-color: white;">cheeseburgers. As a matter of fact, she ate one the other day when I gave </span><span style="background-color: white;">myself a break from cooking and took my kids to Burger King. (My husband had </span><span style="background-color: white;">been gone for all of two hours into a four day business trip, and I caved and </span><span style="background-color: white;">brought them to a fast food joint for lunch.) She happily </span><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT48_com_zimbra_date" style="cursor: pointer;">sat</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">and ate her </span><span style="background-color: white;">burger (which I'm not even 100% sure if it's real cow) with a huge smile. </span><span style="background-color: white;">The real kicker was when we were leaving and I informed my kids that this </span><span style="background-color: white;">was a special treat, and that I would indeed be cooking for the rest of the </span><span style="background-color: white;">week . . . My oldest said this to my youngest, <i>"Charlotte, put these into </i></span><span style="background-color: white;"><i>your pocket. We'll just have them for dinner."</i> These = ketchup packets.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So a tip for all the parents out there with picky eaters . . . you can always smother </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">the crap out of everything ketchup packets.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, arial, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 27px;">Bon appétit</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-17058675173873931182014-02-14T07:28:00.000-08:002014-02-14T07:28:24.525-08:00Happy Valentine's Day!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGN80IHJEFkQZPeyymCcUUdY9WQjcqPONYH_yqAoXir2-d-5BsXuo8u6ql2rK94rWg02XXobgzESL4uQkC5Go9P7P_9-CVbJrbVWsKC4fsGC8TEW6TCnG1lmmHjQxNuPe2DZMQf8qGQo/s1600/valentinesday_words.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Happy Valentine's Day! ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGN80IHJEFkQZPeyymCcUUdY9WQjcqPONYH_yqAoXir2-d-5BsXuo8u6ql2rK94rWg02XXobgzESL4uQkC5Go9P7P_9-CVbJrbVWsKC4fsGC8TEW6TCnG1lmmHjQxNuPe2DZMQf8qGQo/s1600/valentinesday_words.jpg" height="267" title="Happy Valentine's Day! ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Happy Valentine's Day!</span></td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-61850528475800924652014-02-09T07:18:00.000-08:002014-02-09T07:18:01.448-08:00Surviving Sickness with the Kids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">The past week has been H -E - double hockey sticks. It all started when my youngest got the sniffles. Those sniffles led to a bad cough, which then led to a fever and three back to back sleepless nights for my husband and I. Alright, I may be exaggerating a tad bit... I think we got a half hour of sleep here and there, although, it's not always easy to catch Z's when you have a restless toddler who finds comfort by sprawling herself across your king sized bed and digging her feet into your ribs. Having a cat that decides to plop himself on your back while all of this is going on doesn't really help the the situation either. I wasn't moving an inch though. I was not going to risk disrupting a sick/unhappy child who was finally comfortable and asleep for the night. Luckily, her fever/cold was short-lived, and that following night I was excited to be back on the track of her getting a full night's sleep in her own room, and me hopefully getting a full night's sleep without her footy pajamas in my face. That thought quickly turned to panic when I heard my older daughter hacking like an 85 year old, male smoker the following morning at four AM. Those three nights of cramped up ribs and footy pajamas in my face was nothing compared to what was coming. It was merely just a trial run to get me back in the swing of life with a newborn, except without a newborn. Instead, with a three year old diagnosed with pneumonia.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Let me start by saying, my three year old is the happiest sick kid ever. I would have never known she was ill if it hadn't have been for that old man smoker's cough, which progressively got worse, and the temperature of 104 the following night made it a dead giveaway. As I'm sitting there at three AM on the couch with her, counting down the hours until her doctors office opens, she's happily singing songs, shooting Advil and indulging in sticky grape popsicles. She was in heaven, and I was exhausted and in panic mode. The only time she got upset was when I told her that she was going to have to stay home from preschool because she was sick. I take that back, she did get upset before I took her temperature and I said, "Oh my gosh, you're on fire!" (meaning she had a fever). Note to self: that was dumb, considering she is three, and understandably takes everything literally. She yelled really loud and exclaimed firmly to me that she was not on fire. She forgave me when I said that I meant she definitely had a fever, and we'd have to make an appointment with her doctor as soon as the </span><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT276_com_zimbra_date" style="cursor: pointer;">sun</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">came up.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">A few hours later, after refusing to go back to bed, she was still dancing around in circles, thrilled that she had an appointment with her pediatrician. (She loves any and all appointments.) The Advil had done its job and brought her fever way down, and she and her sister were practically doing cartwheels in the doctor's office waiting room. I'm sure the receptionist thought I was crazy for insisting that I had a very sick child that needed to be seen as soon as possible. However, my instincts were dead on, and despite being as happy she was, she was indeed sick. Her pneumonia required a couple different prescriptions which resulted in a trip to two different pharmacies because they both weren't in stock at the pharmacy we usually go to. (Of course.) So picture it: two grouchy kids, one has been up since three AM, the other since five AM, and it's beyond lunchtime by this point. Now throw one very tired mother, who now feels like crap too, and has probably gotten a total of six hours of sleep in five nights. Bad scenario, real bad.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">While my kids are sick, hungry and tired, I'm dragging them to two different drug stores to get the meds that are of course not ready for pick up. As I'm handing over my insurance card, my kids are getting their arms stuck in the blood pressure testing machine that they should not even be playing with in the first place. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">F@*K! I know people are looking at me and probably thinking 'control your kids', but all I'm thinking about is getting these meds and getting my kids home where they belong. Just cut me some slack, please. We made it home where the lack of sleep caught up to everyone. Tantrums were being dropped like they were hot, and I just wanted to curl up on the living room floor right there with my kids and throw a fit too, but I didn't have time to do that. I needed to make them lunch. That night my oldest ate her first meal in two days, pizza! She had also drank tons of Gatorade which I was happy about, because she had not been eating or drinking much of anything over the past few days. I was thrilled about it, until she went to bed and had a major coughing fit and puked pizza and Gatorade everywhere. I remained 100% sympathetic and genuinely felt so bad for her, but at the same time I just wanted to curl up in my bed and cry. Tired was an understatement.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">The following day was a turn around. The medications were finally kicking in for Lanie, and I had gotten a little more sleep. I was beyond thrilled to leave the house for a dentist appointment. Unlike my kids, I'm not a huge fan of appointments... but I'll be honest, having a cleaning and a couple of cavities filled felt like a mini vacation. Thanks for making my dentist appointment not so bad, kids. I owe ya one.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>I'm happy to report that everyone is on the mend at our house. I'm also happy to report that I have gotten a full 16 hours of sleep over the past two nights. Up all night, up all day is no longer a trend in our house. </i>Hallef'nlujah! ;)</span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-20307536540378399732014-01-12T08:11:00.000-08:002014-01-12T08:12:47.581-08:00The Day We Played Hooky<div class="MsoPlainText">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">With the Northeast in the midst of its biggest snow storm
of the season thus far, I had a decision to make . . . ship my kid off to
preschool, or keep her home for the day? First off, pretty much every other town or city canceled school for the
day except for ours. Actually, most
schools were canceling for the next two days. Secondly, we pay good money to
send her there for the two days a week that she attends so, the thought of her
missing school when she doesn't have to kind of makes me cringe. Actually, we
literally scrape through our pennies each month to be able to pay her
tuition. I'll add in that it's worth
every penny though! Thirdly, I don't like making decisions. I wish our town would have called it off and
made that decision for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">There is something about watching the news reports
and seeing the school closing list scroll at the bottom of the screen that
brings excitement to my eyes. It always has, and always will. Perhaps it's the teacher in me, or the thrill
of snow days that I had as a kid that have never seemed to fade away. I started watching the news as
those closings rolled by on my screen. My town was not listed. Bummer. I
woke up the next morning early, real early and patiently waited to see my town pop
up. It never did. To be honest, I was
shocked. Some people dread the thought of a snow day for their kids, especially
immediately following an almost two week long winter break . . . not me! Bring it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So there I was, six AM in the morning, faced with the decision
of waking my kids (who are usually awake at that time) and doing the whole
crazy morning routine during the beginning stages of a major storm. After talking to my husband, and calling my
mother for moral support . . . you know, because of that nagging question, am I a bad parent for letting my three year old play hooky? Well, I opted not to take
her. My kids slept until 7:30, we played
dress up, jumped on the bed, (</span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">shh, don't tell daddy</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">) baked peanut butter
cookies, made loom bracelets, had a dance party and made a blanket fort. Best decision ever. I love snow days, even if
I'm the one who declared it!</span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-37516475629024837962013-12-27T13:11:00.001-08:002013-12-27T13:11:52.208-08:00The Christmas Sugar High - Detoxing the Preschoolers<div class="MsoPlainText">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6mAcj88stw3DRUhH1CWzsZLh3Dn6tdsRQYbMk-_G8w8vC1mxxMoDW9qKrIJiPRL6IGVT81i8xcodIsZipKDt-MaO7lDSOrYzuvKih-G6h0x4pr4enHnCLvnCWJJco9bmhEJZmicpJno/s1600/candy+canes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The Christmas Sugar High - Detoxing the Preschoolers ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC6mAcj88stw3DRUhH1CWzsZLh3Dn6tdsRQYbMk-_G8w8vC1mxxMoDW9qKrIJiPRL6IGVT81i8xcodIsZipKDt-MaO7lDSOrYzuvKih-G6h0x4pr4enHnCLvnCWJJco9bmhEJZmicpJno/s200/candy+canes.jpg" title="Candy Cane Sugar High - Detoxing the Preschoolers ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Over the past couple of weeks my kids have been partying
like mini rock stars. Late nights, missing out on naps and living off of
things like sugar cookies and candy canes have become the
"norm". With a large family and numerous holiday parties, it's been hard to stick to our typical daily
routine of grilled cheese sandwiches and at least an attempt at rest time. It's
been fun (for them). Okay, it's been fun for me as well, but guess who gets
stuck paying the price during the aftermath of it all? Me. *SIGH*. That really hasn't been fun.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzpDYtRB9cz3gFs01EfcsEBltcoeUnGqmEO2fGf8S7_ezmRe14FDWxmuNhZpa1SZ9N6whQWwrWLTvb5WJ3pmlT6RgDq57YnSWKqKEYlGiNRCGGVtd2r0P1usTUbNMOEGdnCMsonvNhzA/s1600/sugar+cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Christmas Sugar Cookie High - Detoxing the Preschoolers ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkzpDYtRB9cz3gFs01EfcsEBltcoeUnGqmEO2fGf8S7_ezmRe14FDWxmuNhZpa1SZ9N6whQWwrWLTvb5WJ3pmlT6RgDq57YnSWKqKEYlGiNRCGGVtd2r0P1usTUbNMOEGdnCMsonvNhzA/s200/sugar+cookies.jpg" title="Christmas Sugar Cookie High - Detoxing the Preschoolers ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It started the day after Christmas when I stuck to my vow
of "<i>NO MORE SUGAR</i>" and</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">"<i>You guys are definitely taking naps this afternoon. No ifs, ands,
or buts!</i>"</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I mean seriously, this
Christmas craziness had to come to a screeching halt at some point. What</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">better day than the one after Christmas. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It's over and my kids were slowly starting
to come down from their chocolate Christmas tree, cookie, candy cane, holiday
colored gummy bear high. That high, turned into an all time low. . . fast. They
spent that morning crying, fighting over their toys, and throwing fits on our
family room floor.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It was so bad that I
secretly confiscated the chocolate Santa's from their Christmas stockings and
hid in my room for a few minutes.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">While
my kids duked it out,<i> I </i>ate their Santas.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It was a much better choice than the alternative of whipping myself up a
dirty martini at 8 AM and attempting to deal with the madness that was going on
around me. That's another vow that I've promised to stick to . . . never become a
stay at home mom alcoholic. If I stuck to my guns that morning, I'm pretty
confident I'll succeed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My in-laws phoned my husband that morning while he was at
work and asked if we'd like to join them for dinner out.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My first thought was yes! No cooking, no
cleaning and I can get out of the house . . . YES! My second thought, the realistic
one, was that there is NO way I can bring my kids out like this.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I made a deal with my kids - no more
tantrums, no more fighting and if they rested during nap</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">we'd meet their grandparents out for dinner
at our favorite dinner spot.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(The place
that serves bottomless bowls of popcorn.)</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Besides one sword fight using fairy princess wands as their weapon of
choice, the afternoon went smooth.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The
crying and fighting over everything came to an end, and they both had a decent
rest time.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">A Christmas miracle!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">We made it out to dinner and we had been
doing good with our no more sugar kick! Until, while out doing errands, the lady at the bank handed my
kids lollipops at 10 AM this morning.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Whatever.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I believe that everything in moderation is okay.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">They just better not expect me to fork over
sugar cookies for dinner.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>Not
happening.</i></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-51162112931021600232013-12-21T07:58:00.000-08:002013-12-21T07:59:28.266-08:00All I Want For Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uXjjPTjwj8kWI77cc4peyTk0nCMF2TIh-tYUHei16TAk3eKEVDsP6_EFA8nTKHjayBQd7-eOLell5-ip-EvHf2VskwF0Fvv-Vw59aVPAbErf73niFVzglkLNy3TIA9fI4_vGAKx8LPo/s1600/snowflake1+(540x587).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Snowflake - All I want for Christmas ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uXjjPTjwj8kWI77cc4peyTk0nCMF2TIh-tYUHei16TAk3eKEVDsP6_EFA8nTKHjayBQd7-eOLell5-ip-EvHf2VskwF0Fvv-Vw59aVPAbErf73niFVzglkLNy3TIA9fI4_vGAKx8LPo/s200/snowflake1+(540x587).jpg" title="Snowflake - All I want for Christmas ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="183" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">I want the sore throat and cold I've been battling for the past few days </span><span style="background-color: white;">to move onto its next victim. (As long as it's not my kids, or husband.) </span><span style="background-color: white;">Actually, I don't wish it on anyone. Blah. Moms should not be allowed to </span><span style="background-color: white;">get sick.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWdGqCwichUyq2EFVYFwpgby7XXVJTEpR_CzMOfRnjaKGp7lzcZoLETZSlRlhhWrg7JgxjkTDjwcCsrx5d3KgPYi4Gf10wBHq1KnxB5xCV_bDnkVG096rKHidfsT6mZGAwcgzYZxdVpmo/s1600/snowman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Snowman - All I want for Christmas ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWdGqCwichUyq2EFVYFwpgby7XXVJTEpR_CzMOfRnjaKGp7lzcZoLETZSlRlhhWrg7JgxjkTDjwcCsrx5d3KgPYi4Gf10wBHq1KnxB5xCV_bDnkVG096rKHidfsT6mZGAwcgzYZxdVpmo/s1600/snowman.jpg" title="Snowman - All I want for Christmas ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">I want a minimum of 7 hours of sleep a night. That means no loud singing, </span><span style="background-color: white;">no creeping out of your room and turning on every light in the house at 3 AM, </span><span style="background-color: white;">but most importantly, don't sneak into my room and stand beside my bed and </span><span style="background-color: white;">stare at me. I can hear you breathing, and I know you're there, even though </span><span style="background-color: white;">sometimes I pretend I don't. Seriously, I go to bed after Jeopardy is </span><span style="background-color: white;">over . . . (When did I turn into my mother?) Anyway, 7 hours of sleep </span><span style="background-color: white;">shouldn't be that hard, and now that I put bells on your door I have a jump </span><span style="background-color: white;">start and I'll know when you're coming. No more creepin'.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xFlc0Hbad2K2OlmfzDMjgftNrkEa8P-WWSxozyhwUkPh-T7dc_1ZQ5tsTiA_ELpk2n0xxaEaapQuTK3T7N3qXmHsVSVC5l1dXisEOk1Qw6Tib9msuwF6BHB2IdwP5LNHIfVqJAGYPSw/s1600/grumpy+cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Grumpy Cat - All I want for Christmas ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xFlc0Hbad2K2OlmfzDMjgftNrkEa8P-WWSxozyhwUkPh-T7dc_1ZQ5tsTiA_ELpk2n0xxaEaapQuTK3T7N3qXmHsVSVC5l1dXisEOk1Qw6Tib9msuwF6BHB2IdwP5LNHIfVqJAGYPSw/s1600/grumpy+cat.jpg" title="Grumpy Cat - All I want for Christmas ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">Last, but not least - if you're going to have an "accident" on my kitchen </span><span style="background-color: white;">floor, please don't pick up the poop and blame it on the cat.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">Love, Mom </span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-90337573778236317472013-12-12T11:32:00.000-08:002013-12-12T11:32:03.095-08:00The Christmas Miracles<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The past few days have been go go go. I'm actually surprised I'm finding the time
to sit down and write about it, or the time to breathe for that matter. The hustle and bustle of the holidays always
seems to stress me out. I feel as if Thanksgiving to Christmas is an entire
month straight of pure craziness. If you asked me a week ago, that's exactly
how I'd tell you I felt - crazy,
stressed, anxious, how am I ever going to get all the stuff that needs to get
done, done? Not today though. This past
week has not only been productive, but fun!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It started when I broke my promise of never taking my
kids shopping by myself again. My oldest
was desperate for some new shoes for the holidays, so I ventured out on a rainy
day, a day that I just didn't want to be cooped up indoors. This shopping trip was phenomenal. Not only
did we get new shoes, but we left the store with zero temper tantrums, from either
kid. Amazing! I was so impressed by their good behavior
that I told them that if they each took a good rest during nap time that I'd
take them to visit Santa that afternoon. That's just what we did. I picked up my mom and we went to visit the best mall Santa around. One that
usually comes with a long line of hyped up kiddos. Not the case that late afternoon. We only had to wait behind four other
families! Again, amazing! My girls were very excited to see the big guy
in red, and happily smiled as they sat with him. We were able to get a great picture! (One that did not include me like last years
Santa's pic.) Last year they were a few seconds away from nervous breakdowns
and I had to jump in the photo at the last minute. Needless to say, I was
beyond pleased that I missed out on this photo op.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijT76ryVzqLKrHwtll1u6kJP7VAFMI2YrBJ-My9D1Q7YnHQBqy9gb2cn8wOE0rfTvPWXhTfqXLCYMR0JISUnx8kwYwQgA8PPknFR8_dkAQs5xbP8HkKOPe4l-bbh8nhmo-UHiYGjesBo/s1600/Chocolate_Chip_Cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Christmas Miracles, Chocolate Chip Cookies ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijT76ryVzqLKrHwtll1u6kJP7VAFMI2YrBJ-My9D1Q7YnHQBqy9gb2cn8wOE0rfTvPWXhTfqXLCYMR0JISUnx8kwYwQgA8PPknFR8_dkAQs5xbP8HkKOPe4l-bbh8nhmo-UHiYGjesBo/s200/Chocolate_Chip_Cookies.jpg" title="Christmas Miracles, Chocolate Chip Cookies ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Speaking of pictures, I
declared one day this week to be holiday card photo shoot day. My kids were not thrilled but the candy canes I gave them first thing that
morning definitely helped. The sugar
high later was a bit of a different story, but all and all I had a few decent
shots. My mother-in-law designed a great
card for me, and I got those bad boys printed Friday and spent the night
addressing lots and lots of Christmas Cards. That tedious task is done! Did I
mention, I even found time to bake two dozen cookies with my kids <i>and </i>eat a
whole dozen of them? (I shared the other
dozen with my husband and girls.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Over the weekend we spent a day with my dad and step mom. We got our Christmas tree, and my
kids got spoiled. A nice lunch, a trip
to a toy store, and $48 trip to the candy store. Pricey, I know, but that was only because my
husband said that he really liked the look of some dark chocolate turtle
candies that my father insisted on buying. We brought them home and I secretly had them for breakfast the next
morning. We spent the rest of the day putting
up our tree and decorating the outside of our house. The biggest miracle of all was when I dug out
our Christmas lights and all of them worked! I didn't even have to spend the
usual two hours trying to untangle them. The only thing that's left on my list is a few more presents to buy, and
to lose the extra five pounds I've packed on from eating cookies, candies and
chocolate Santa's.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>I got this . . . bring it
Santa!</b></i></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-24898370099103160262013-12-02T09:41:00.000-08:002013-12-02T09:41:30.965-08:00I'm Sorry I'm Late . . . I Have Kids!<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">For as long as I can remember I've been punctual . . . maybe
a little too punctual. I was the person
that you could count on to show up when l said I would, if not earlier.
You wouldn't know that though, because
I'd most likely be driving around the block a few times to waste a couple
minutes. I was actually given an award in high school for always being on time.
Pretty cool, huh? Actually, pretty dorky when I think about it now.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx7IKXxo2mqJLO-D5eKt2MKys2qKtal3N2sV_R4hPbzNtBZwpAykqnDwRrgLimDtqXLCn8gNvbSV7pr60IW-TxzZY3wpWZh8w0gYNss_To7wNU071cx4o4zuHSn5DWaoUH1jD4E2xPM4g/s1600/Have+Kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="I'm Sorry I'm Late . . . I Have Kids! ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx7IKXxo2mqJLO-D5eKt2MKys2qKtal3N2sV_R4hPbzNtBZwpAykqnDwRrgLimDtqXLCn8gNvbSV7pr60IW-TxzZY3wpWZh8w0gYNss_To7wNU071cx4o4zuHSn5DWaoUH1jD4E2xPM4g/s320/Have+Kids.jpg" title="I'm Sorry I'm Late . . . I Have Kids! ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Back before my stay at home mom days, when I had a full
time job, I had a bit of a commute and allowed myself plenty of extra time to
pick up a coffee on my way in. I'd also calculate in the fear of bad traffic.
Phhhhhttt, what a joke.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Most mornings I
left before the birds were chirping, and I'd arrive to work a half hour
early.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I didn't get paid to be there
early, so I'm not really sure why I continued to do this day after day.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Probably because arriving early was far
better than the sudden sense of "OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO BE
LATE."</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">That happened once, during a
blizzard, when most normal people would have just banged in with a personal or
sick day.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I wish I had calculated all
those wasted half hours of being early for work into some sort of extra sleep
category, 'cause maybe then I'd be a little more rested for what was to come . . . KIDS!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">See ya later, punctuality.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Don't get me wrong, I really try my best to be on time
for things, it doesn't always happen though. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Here are a few reasons why:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Breakfast time is more often than not similar to
watching paint dry. Somehow my kids manage to sit there and pick at their
plates for a very long time, but when they finally decide they're done most of
the food is still there.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It's like
magic . . . but with food. One second you see it, an hour later it's still there!
(I wish I could have</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">pulled off that type
of magic with my kids leftover Halloween candy.)</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">They play it off like they're eating and I
don't interfere, because I actually think they are eating, but they're not.
They're pretty slick.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'll usually find
some minuscule bites nibbled off of a cereal bar, or a half eaten grape. They
usually do this during lunch and dinner too.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Apparently, eating food that you're not really eating takes a long
time.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes I wonder why I even
offer them meals, and often question if they are living off of the water and
toothpaste they eat during teeth brushing time.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Needless to say, I try to plan play dates around the meals that they
take forever to eat, but don't really eat.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">"Sorry we're late, friends. It took a really long time to eat those
two Cheerios and that blueberry this morning."</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">One thing that causes the drill sergeant mom in me to
come out is getting my kids up, fed, dressed and out the door in time for 8:30 AM preschool drop off.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Thank God this only
happens two days a week because these mornings make me feel like a crazy
person.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">First off, my kids always decide
to sleep in on school days . . . never on weekends, never on home days, only on
school days. This forces me to wake them up, and let me tell you,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">it's not always pretty. Just this morning
(home day) I received my payback. I was woken up at 5 AM by singing . . . very LOUD
singing. It was as if I were at a Katy Perry concert, sitting right next to the
speaker as she sang her latest hit, <i>Roar</i>. (Except it wasn't Katy Perry, it was
my three year old, it was 5 AM, and it was indeed a home day.)</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This was not a pretty moment for me and I
swear it would have been fine if it were a school day.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">But no, I have to drag them out of bed on
school days, as they clench their blankets and beg me not to.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(This has got to be some sort of Murphy's
law.)</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">After dragging my girls out of
bed, I'll attempt to give the whole mealtime thing a whirl. Usually after a half hour of me watching the clock and them pretending to eat I'll tend to rush
them along as they lick the syrup off of their uneaten waffles then, I'll
usually praise them for eating a strawberry . . . or something.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'll rush to get them dressed, brush their
teeth and do their hair.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Remember I have
girls, getting them dressed and doing their hair is often a project.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The tooth brushing part is a piece of cake
since they live off of, <i>I mean</i> live <i>for </i>toothpaste.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">After all of this is done, I'll bundle them
up and get ready to head out.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The other morning as we were about to head out the door my oldest informed me that she had to go to
the bathroom.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">While I was assisting her,
my youngest hid the car keys in one of her fathers shoes, she then informed me that she had to use the potty too.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">After that I got their coats back on and realized that my keys were missing. When I asked where they were, I got silence. I said something like, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>"Well, I guess we'll just have to
take naps all day since we can't go out and do anything fun." </i>The response from my two year old resembled a bunch of fake sneezes, <i>"A SHOE
- A SHOE"</i>. While I began questioning if those pretend sneezes were real
sneezes, my oldest said that the keys must be in a shoe.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Bingo, found them!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Time to go! Strapping my puffy coated kids into their car seats is never
fun and often time consuming, but it's got to be done. And we were finally off . . . only to get two minutes down the street and have to stop for what seems like 100
wild turkeys s-l-o-w-l-y crossing the road. We totally would have missed that
giant flock of birds if someone didn't hide my car keys.</span></li>
</ul>
<i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Therefore, I'm sorry I'm late . . . I have kids.</span></b></i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-10458674815185467372013-11-23T10:44:00.000-08:002013-11-23T10:44:27.927-08:00My Biggest Pains of Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b style="background-color: white;"><u>1.</u></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This year Santa made his big appearance at the local mall the day after Halloween. Jesus, I haven't even polished off all the peanut butter cups from my kids candy buckets yet and their already throwing candy canes in my face?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2oVumWezoJH-6ty7GLGy3ll5L75nfuN8HmhxJ-PoHdcM0iB_7tW5S6HmigJQicFEkdqvpfGv1lyJLxO0J8lAkavMHrbtkvCFDmreRKdx5BDHxKyxEM6w1LilrxGdMpvLUtCeqks0xOgo/s1600/santa_with_ho_ho_ho_and_merry_christmas_text_0515-0911-2122-4251_SMU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="My Biggest Pains of Christmas ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2oVumWezoJH-6ty7GLGy3ll5L75nfuN8HmhxJ-PoHdcM0iB_7tW5S6HmigJQicFEkdqvpfGv1lyJLxO0J8lAkavMHrbtkvCFDmreRKdx5BDHxKyxEM6w1LilrxGdMpvLUtCeqks0xOgo/s200/santa_with_ho_ho_ho_and_merry_christmas_text_0515-0911-2122-4251_SMU.jpg" title="My Biggest Pains of Christmas ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>2. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The fact that every time a commercial comes on the TV for a Lalaloopsy Doll my kids go crazy yelling and screaming <i>"That's it! That's what I want Santa to bring me!"</i> They each have a specific doll that they want. Easy right? Wrong. The problem is that each day that specific doll changes to a different one. When I say things like <i>"Didn't you say you wanted Santa to get you the pink one yesterday?"</i> I'll usually get a big fat <i>"NO, I said I wanted the one with stripes. That's the one!!"</i> I really hope I don't eff this up. When it's all said and done, they'll get what they get and they won't get upset. . .Well, they may get upset . . . just know that "Santa" listened to the indecisiveness Every. Single. Day. for two months straight . . . I tried.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>3.</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbjm3FJJALUq-DDMIgogCrHXgm8wx3nwNuEDDtTjhpRPCPF-j4lzPTL7JM5xYzgRAx4ggTGjLze3KkwEWC2L3sDh25iMfidsYSR7a76B57PXnWFrDvvqFOyiQXQ7nSJwjfzBg_R3eBWs/s1600/ChristmasLightTangledMess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="My Biggest Pains of Christmas; tangled lights ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbjm3FJJALUq-DDMIgogCrHXgm8wx3nwNuEDDtTjhpRPCPF-j4lzPTL7JM5xYzgRAx4ggTGjLze3KkwEWC2L3sDh25iMfidsYSR7a76B57PXnWFrDvvqFOyiQXQ7nSJwjfzBg_R3eBWs/s200/ChristmasLightTangledMess.jpg" title="My Biggest Pains of Christmas; tangled lights ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I have to get down to my basement and find that large ball of Christmas lights that was nicely placed on our outdoor railings last year. One day when my kids both decided to take a nap and Christmas was over, I decided to take them all down. That did not go over so well.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>4.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I'll have to wrestle tights on my girls for several different holiday parties. Just thinking about this is giving me anxiety. Next . . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>5.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Taking the perfect Christmas card photo where both of my girls are sitting still and looking happy. Then, taking the time to address and mail all those cards. We have a big family to send cards to, so this will perhaps be a good excuse to break out the wine.</span><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>6.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">We haven't even made it to Thanksgiving yet and most stores have jumped on the band wagon of decorating early. Loud Christmas music, along with fake trees, shiny stars and colorful ornaments make for chaotic times while shopping with your kids. Who am I kidding? I'm just using this is as an excuse for already chaotic times while shopping with my kids. This added eye candy just enhances the chaos to whole new level of crazy.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7mKa8YDP5TEIo4E9u_j7R6OUkmKYdjj1xlA4JSL9kh13lqgee30R291ClaUk3RzB8d30wDGsw4INQ-4oOqfZT6Mk70BmiBtbdlpcviGgqKa-fgTC-tvnCi2iMLXI2joTx7s69xKjAr5E/s1600/xmas+cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Baking Christmas Cookies ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7mKa8YDP5TEIo4E9u_j7R6OUkmKYdjj1xlA4JSL9kh13lqgee30R291ClaUk3RzB8d30wDGsw4INQ-4oOqfZT6Mk70BmiBtbdlpcviGgqKa-fgTC-tvnCi2iMLXI2joTx7s69xKjAr5E/s1600/xmas+cookies.jpg" title="Baking Christmas Cookies ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">In the end, the memories of cookie baking, decorating the tree, reading our favorite Christmas stories, and the smiles on their faces Christmas morning will all be worth it. (Provided that Santa gets the right damn doll!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Wake me up when December ends . . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Oh right, it hasn't even started yet. 'Tis the season for limited (if any) parking spaces, sugar amped-up/hyped-up kiddos and egg nog spiked with the strong stuff. I heart Christmas.</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-10586089497719007242013-11-15T06:40:00.000-08:002013-11-15T06:40:41.446-08:00Sharing is Caring<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Sharing is caring! That's our motto around here, or at
least the one I'm trying to enforce.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-x-o9dOL2RVFkYvUw9vuHNIZGbA3Zwg8xTSrKTCkpi3VFR8EKh7dpTFx8PvJsHY7ubulnsHIXubGSmzKcAp7U5s1TxUme6B6fCvpFVAz2kI4r6F28bo7LIgypr8SPXg_j10yteP8WTkA/s1600/birthday_cake.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img alt="Sharing a Birthday ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-x-o9dOL2RVFkYvUw9vuHNIZGbA3Zwg8xTSrKTCkpi3VFR8EKh7dpTFx8PvJsHY7ubulnsHIXubGSmzKcAp7U5s1TxUme6B6fCvpFVAz2kI4r6F28bo7LIgypr8SPXg_j10yteP8WTkA/s1600/birthday_cake.png" title="Sharing a Birthday ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Over the weekend my youngest daughter Charlotte and I
celebrated our birthdays.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I now have a two year old, a three year old, and I'm just old. Actually, I take it back, I'm 37 going
on 21.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">During my big mom's night out I
got carded while ordering a glass (or two, okay maybe three) of wine. Im not typically
a big drinker, but after the temper tantrums in Target last week I did indeed
take advantage of my much needed night out. I wonder if bartender girl would
have felt the same way about my age three days prior, before I got all of my white
hairs colored? Anyway, I just had to throw in that slight ego booster, I'll get
back to the point . . . </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Though I love the fact that I share my birthday with
Charlotte, I always thought that eventually there may be some jealousy issues
with my older daughter Lanie. Understandably, there were. Nothing too major,
and I'm sure there may be more down the road. Luckily, this year Lanie was easily
persuaded in a different direction when I reminded her that her birthday is
in June . . . even though she insisted it was in November. I said that she could
eat my share of cake at this party since I don't really like cake, and then she
could have more cake on her birthday party day.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">She asked if she could have my share of cake in June as well, and I
agreed.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpwvtc2dqargsI_ykByV-DQiBdGJ0KoP0cn4CJgOOYWQ0SJAZd0DdHYcBYBdyVaLLmtlCBu1q5ZlAeWGfKzUsYPK47L_xfisPaMY9LdzcaPmA4DsDR-Yc_NhlWblrur04rRZ4IZbBNhw/s1600/number-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img alt="Sharing is Caring - Turning 2 ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOpwvtc2dqargsI_ykByV-DQiBdGJ0KoP0cn4CJgOOYWQ0SJAZd0DdHYcBYBdyVaLLmtlCBu1q5ZlAeWGfKzUsYPK47L_xfisPaMY9LdzcaPmA4DsDR-Yc_NhlWblrur04rRZ4IZbBNhw/s320/number-2.jpg" title="Sharing is Caring - Turning 2 ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="217" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">That morning Lanie was pretty excited to take a special
trip out with my husband to pick up some ice cream. </span><span style="font-size: large;">She also came home with a giant balloon
bouquet that she nicely handed over to Charlotte and I while yelling
<i>"Surprise! Happy Birthday!" </i>It was very sweet, and I was very
impressed that she didn't hold onto those balloons for dear life with her Kung
Fu grip and insist that they were hers. Balloons are kind of a big deal around
here, so we are clearly making progress!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As you know, along with any kids birthday party comes
toys, a whole lot of toys. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Some of our
newest additions include a princess castle, a drawing board, legos, a toy
phone, a school bus, a kid's tablet, puzzles, lots of books, stuffed animals,
some Peppa pig figurines, a doctor kit, fridge magnets, a handcrafted stool,
and lots of clothes (which they don't fight over now, but I know that someday
they will.)</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">All the toys we have here,
old and new, are age appropriate for both girls, which in return causes a lot
of arguments. In the past, we've never really had any problems deciphering what
belongs to who, because they share and often times fight over them all. With
the ages they are now, the whole sharing verses what's mine is mine concept has
become a little more of a challenge. Not only for them, but for me as
well.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">It's not in my nature to try to
explain to a two year old that she can't play with the 150 piece Duplo Lego set
that was actually given to her sister as a gift a year ago and vice versa.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When it came time for Charlotte to open her gifts, one of
the first things in Lanie's sight was the Peppa Pig figurines. </span><span style="font-size: large;">If you've read my past blogs, you may
remember that my oldest daughter is slightly obsessed with Peppa pig. Her eyes
lit up as she dove for the pigs that Charlotte had barely opened, and she
quickly claimed them as her own. </span><span style="font-size: large;">What
potentially could have turned into an old school Andre the Giant vs. Hulk Hogan
wrestling scene, surprisingly ended up just fine. Those pigs kept Lanie busy
the entire time, allowing Charlotte the opportunity to open up more of *her*
birthday gifts without the help of a potentially unwanted sidekick. Thankfully,
no foam fingers were needed by me to direct my kids back to their respectable
corners, and Charlotte really didn't seem to mind sharing them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The following day was ideal. </span><span style="font-size: large;">They were both very occupied with all the new
choices to play with, and it left little time for them to argue over all the
usual old stuff.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I'm banking on a weeks
worth of thrills 'til the excitement fades and things get old again.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">In the meantime, I've made note to both girls
about how well Charlotte is doing with sharing all of the new toys, and how
they have both been playing so nicely together. Lanie agreed, and also stated
that she was very happy that Charlotte gave her a Peppa Pig for her
birthday. </span><span style="font-size: large;">I reminded Lanie that her
birthday is seven months away and to remember this when Charlotte wants to play
with her presents.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">So far, so good . . . Hopefully this sharing kick lasts for a while!</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">(Who am I kidding? I've got two little people that are 16 months apart. They can be a tad bit stubborn and very strong willed at times.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">I'm not holding my breath, but I'm certainly
enjoying it while it lasts!)</span></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-81013659159533838232013-11-08T11:30:00.000-08:002013-11-08T11:30:22.675-08:00The Punishment, Terrible Two's and Tantrums<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-size: x-large;">Warning:</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: yellow; font-size: large;">This blog contains jaw dropping material . . .</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;">teeth grinding, hair pulling, it's 5 o'clock somewhere content.</span></i></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i style="background-color: white;">Reader discretion is advised.</i></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCoz1st6obM1Ggc6_RIdIEbSRtRe0f5ufFnjTWkSilSb-ZCh7yytLL8bEnzw3ex5IVHSxgfqBlO-C3RlwoP-xBpeGCDC7reWEoxDUN2xcCG5AGUgu4fk7kyEJ8ZRKh2fwPCuw7IaKLb_g/s1600/Terrible+Twos+~+TheQuirkyConfessions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="The Punishment, Terrible Two's & Tantrums ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCoz1st6obM1Ggc6_RIdIEbSRtRe0f5ufFnjTWkSilSb-ZCh7yytLL8bEnzw3ex5IVHSxgfqBlO-C3RlwoP-xBpeGCDC7reWEoxDUN2xcCG5AGUgu4fk7kyEJ8ZRKh2fwPCuw7IaKLb_g/s320/Terrible+Twos+~+TheQuirkyConfessions.jpg" title="The Punishment, Terrible Two's & Tantrums ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="187" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My goal by writing this is to, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>A. </b><i><b>Attempt to relieve my
own stress</b>, </i>and</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>B.<i> Let other parents know that if you are dealing with hard
times with your kids that you are not alone.</i></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">For the first time ever, both of my kids were faced with
consequences that they did not like due to their actions.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Don't get me wrong, they've certainly dealt
with consequences in the past due to misbehaving, they've just never dealt with
so many all at once.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This morning's adventure out led to coming home early and the kids spending 45 minutes in their rooms.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This
was followed by no iPad, and no TV for the rest of the day.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Just so we are all clear, I don't plop my
kids in front of the TV, or let them play Candy Crush all day. They are allowed
a little time each day to watch a favorite show, or play an educational game. That's why these times are a big deal.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Some may think that a 45 minute time out in a room for an almost two and a
three year old seems like a long time, but seriously, that's how long it took my
husband and I to recover from this adventure out.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The morning started off fine.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">They slept well, (for them) and ate a good
breakfast.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My husband and I decided to
run an errand at Target to get some things we needed for our upcoming birthday
party for Charlotte.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Oh yes, terrible
two's!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I remember them well since it seems
like just yesterday that Lanie was two.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">As we parked the car, the usual fuss about riding in the
shopping cart started. This is not a
huge deal for me. Both of them are typically good when it comes to holding your
hand, and with my husband being there it usually makes shopping with them a
little easier. It leaves me a free hand to work with. I mean how hard can it be to pick up a card
and a stupid paper tablecloth for a birthday party? I said it before and I'll say it again . . . <b>shopping with your kids is NEVER easy.</b> As a matter of fact, I've decided I'm not
doing it again until my kids are 12 and 13. I figure in about 10 years or so,
it may be a little more manageable. Most
likely by then I'll be dealing with a new set of challenges, and I'll have
forgotten about all the tantrums they pull now.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQnHEAAZ330UQ-eINtOpu4b0cYN6L27-27dlzuysg1Zpszjmlc1kfnQKwlpD5PxlJvYQXgdeTSMfh3VcS_wA1VzDi5RWa1k7VGNn5qryVswLC0rtsZmdK-QIQjYVRxxAK-fV3EE-JGi0/s1600/QuirkyLanieTantrum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Temper Tantrums ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQnHEAAZ330UQ-eINtOpu4b0cYN6L27-27dlzuysg1Zpszjmlc1kfnQKwlpD5PxlJvYQXgdeTSMfh3VcS_wA1VzDi5RWa1k7VGNn5qryVswLC0rtsZmdK-QIQjYVRxxAK-fV3EE-JGi0/s320/QuirkyLanieTantrum.jpg" title="Temper Tantrums ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="163" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">When we got in the store my husband went off with my
youngest, while Lanie and I searched for the perfect birthday card. That 25 second search turned into my oldest
ripping cards off the shelf and throwing them on the floor. When I got down at
her level and told her to pick up the cards she lost it saying, <i>"NO, don't you tell me to pick them
up. I'm not doing it."</i> Really?! I sense a massive meltdown coming because that crap does not fly well with
me. <i>"Lanie, I'm going to ask you
again nicely to pick up the cards. Someone worked really hard to put all these
cards on the shelves. We need to put them back where they belong."</i> Her response, <i>"NO!"</i> Really?! (a WTF moment). <i>"Lanie, if you don't pick up the cards, I will bring
you out to the car."</i> Not only did
I get a big fat "NO", I also got a slap in my leg. You bet that shit didn't fly well. My husband saw this and instantly scooped her up,
kicking and screaming and brought her out to the car. One down.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Now I'm left with Charlotte and I'm thinking that I'll get my items
and get out of there quick. Nope, not
the case. Another meltdown, or more like
five meltdowns. One in the toy isle that
she ran to, one in the clothing department, one by the hair accessory shelf,
one at the checkout, and the massive one as I struggled to carry her out of the
store kicking and screaming all while attempting to maneuver the shopping cart
that she refused to sit in. I could
sense lots of onlookers staring, and I was so embarrassed that I could not make
eye contact with anyone . . . until I had to. A woman in a caravan pulled up
beside me and said <i>"Hang in there. You're doing a good job."</i> A
big shout out to that woman. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Thank you! </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">At that
point I desperately needed a kind vibe. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-1591880696200959232013-11-01T05:51:00.000-07:002013-11-01T05:51:16.792-07:00The Fun of Fall with the Kids<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Well it's official! The heat was turned on and the cool,
crisp air has made it's way to Massachusetts. There is something about
replacing short sleeves with hooded sweatshirts, and trading in my summer iced
coffee for a warm cup, or in my case pot of coffee, that I find very
comforting. I love the aromas of Fall too. Warm apple crisp, apple pies, pumpkin seeds and all different kinds of
cookies baking just to name a few.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWVjqv4RmCP0j968_IssQJ7ZivgpDrKGIAceXd9tcOut9vg5pszri8Me1eWDDLUcKTcym4FgudwGNE0YIyoj6kP0q1w9nItc3N_PU6QFUimbHuQBFjUa_Kaq96k3qE-DmzJfLANMb4rQo/s1600/Happy+Fall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Fall Fun with the Kids ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWVjqv4RmCP0j968_IssQJ7ZivgpDrKGIAceXd9tcOut9vg5pszri8Me1eWDDLUcKTcym4FgudwGNE0YIyoj6kP0q1w9nItc3N_PU6QFUimbHuQBFjUa_Kaq96k3qE-DmzJfLANMb4rQo/s320/Happy+Fall.jpg" title="Fall Fun with the Kids ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I was never one to bake.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I can thank my kids for that.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Their love for baking has challenged me to give it my all, and not be so
scared of the kitchen.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I've done
good . . . It's been months since I've set off a smoke detector. The upside to
baking with your kids is that 1. It's fun for them, and 2. If a stray eggshell
ends up here or there you can says things like, <i>"That's what happens
when you bake with small children."</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i> </i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">For the record: I don't let my kids touch the eggs, but
nobody needs to know that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">When I think of Fall, I think of things like Halloween
and Thanksgiving. I think of school and the fact that Charlotte, my baby, is
turning two!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Though I'm thankful for
everyday with my kids, Fall brings out the subtle reminders of the little
things.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">For instance, the leaves
changing colors and falling from the trees. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Though I know the colors are changing right
before my eyes, my kids often remind me to stop for a minute and take a look at
how beautiful they are.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">They're right,
they are beautiful.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">For some reason the
stresses of that dreaded fall clean up don't always seem so bad when you have
little ones. Taking a break to watch the excitement in their faces as they jump
in a pile of leaves, or stop to count acorns always makes it just a little
easier.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-KXq9WbGlCSFyOtlJiYd-18ifwim3uCEIY6xqc4hLrnuLT39Skozy6wKaqzF8Tqeoi2xyHtbu_ChZ0LRKVgcXI2i1mW_aygGoHrpbyU5v8e3Ct_DBFtr-n5ERsWGReYnVJcAuXtxuHOg/s1600/Halloween+Quirky+Kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Halloween and Fall Fun with the Kids ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-KXq9WbGlCSFyOtlJiYd-18ifwim3uCEIY6xqc4hLrnuLT39Skozy6wKaqzF8Tqeoi2xyHtbu_ChZ0LRKVgcXI2i1mW_aygGoHrpbyU5v8e3Ct_DBFtr-n5ERsWGReYnVJcAuXtxuHOg/s320/Halloween+Quirky+Kids.jpg" title="Halloween and Fall Fun with the Kids ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'm thankful for Lanie's preschool, and all the fun she
has there.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The look in her eyes when I
come to pick her up each day is priceless.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">She is always eager to show me all the artwork she has stuffed in her
backpack, and it's beyond clear that she thoroughly enjoys herself while she's
there. I'm thankful for those two mornings a week when Lanie is in school.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It gives me one on one time with Charlotte
which is rare, and it's really nice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My kids often remind me to take a step back and enjoy the
little things.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I thank them for
that.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">As a matter of fact they both took
a nap the other day at the same time.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I
think that has happened maybe three times total.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Instead of catching up on housework, I cracked into the Halloween candy
stash, sat on the couch with my feet up and ate three mini snickers bars.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'm thankful that Halloween only happens once
a year and I don't have pounds of candy hidden in my cabinets. However, I am
thankful for that moment.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I've dreamt of
that stay at home mom, kicked back on the couch, eating chocolate image for so
long.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It really happened!</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-88611094929002263292013-10-29T06:34:00.000-07:002013-10-29T06:37:21.390-07:00Kids Halloween Costumes . . .<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #20124d;">Is it really necessary to make</span></span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #20124d;">kids </span></span></b></span><b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Halloween</span><span style="color: #20124d;"> costumes resemble</span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #20124d;">something a streetwalker would wear?</span></span></b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgLX-cgFWVPaKRrrX2_SaWKDSqTopxB8dRz993VN1-QVoUqnYzcdNbFMDOQmSdD_Kd7WE8MDu6Ia69-vL_pIW5nGvsSB8rKmEXGXy_BJx-n4rpzBVrcA7ieXVcW_RZCKTdLbodnx5xU80/s1600/Kids+Quirky+Halloween+Costumes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="No, you can't be Slutberry Shortcake or The Wicked Witch of the Combat Zone for #Halloween kids!" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgLX-cgFWVPaKRrrX2_SaWKDSqTopxB8dRz993VN1-QVoUqnYzcdNbFMDOQmSdD_Kd7WE8MDu6Ia69-vL_pIW5nGvsSB8rKmEXGXy_BJx-n4rpzBVrcA7ieXVcW_RZCKTdLbodnx5xU80/s1600/Kids+Quirky+Halloween+Costumes.jpg" title="No, you can't be Slutberry Shortcake or The Wicked Witch of the Combat Zone for #Halloween kids!" /></a></div>
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<b style="color: #20124d; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-large;">Sorry kids, NO . . .</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">you can't be </span><span style="color: #e06666;">Slutberry Shortcake </span></b></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: #20124d;">or</span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: #6aa84f;">The Wicked Witch of the Combat Zone</span><span style="color: #20124d;">,</span></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-large;"><span style="color: #20124d;">EVER!</span></b><br />
<b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-large;"><span style="color: #20124d;"><br /></span></b>
<b style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: xx-large;"><span style="color: #20124d;"><br /></span></b>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-64083824291294276222013-10-24T11:06:00.002-07:002013-10-24T11:06:15.703-07:00A Weeks Worth of Kid Quirks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Boy have I got some quirky stories for you.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This past week has been full of them.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It all stems from my kids' obsession with Peppa
Pig. Specifically, my three year old's.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My
(almost) two year old joins in on the quirkiness as she likes to follow her big
sisters lead, or perhaps it's a payback since my oldest now refers to her
younger sister as her "little brother Georgie"(Peppa's pig sibling). For those unfamiliar with "Peppa",</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">she's a pig who speaks with a British accent and has a head which
resembles an over-sized, 1970's style, pink blow dryer.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It's a half hour cartoon which runs back to
back from 5 to 6 pm.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It really could not
come on at a better time.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">My kids sit glued
to the TV, allowing me time to start dinner without dealing with any serious
casualties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Recently, let's just say, I've
developed a love/hate relationship with this silly Peppa Pig show.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I LOVE that my kids will sit down on the
couch without moving for a full hour.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I
HATE that my oldest now refers to me as "Mommy Pig", to my husband as
"Daddy Pig", and that she'll often introduce herself to strangers by
saying "Hi I'm Peppa pig, and this is my Mommy pig, my Daddy pig, and my little
brother Georgie."</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'm not sure if
these so called strangers think that we are visiting from overseas since she
now speaks with a British accent, but we're not. Also, my youngest is clearly a
girl, and my husband and I are real live people, not pigs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The other day during the car ride to preschool, my oldest
busted out with a really loud <i>"HI, I'M PEPPA PIG" </i>followed by an
equally loud pig snort. My youngest
chimed in with a <i>"NO! I'M PEPPA PIG"</i>, followed by more pig
snorts. My oldest was floored by this
and yelled <i>"NO, YOU'RE MY LITTLE BROTHER GEORGIE!</i>" This resulted in a very loud, dueling snort
match for what is normally a very short car ride to school. That short car ride
very well may have been the longest five minutes of my life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">On this same day, my oldest came home from school with two paintings she made.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">She was so excited
to show them off and handed one over to my youngest.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It was a nice break from the bickering over
Peppa pig.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This is what she said
<i>"Here Charlotte, I made this for you.</i>" My heart literally melted as
she sat by our fireplace explaining to her younger sister that she made this
extra picture to share with her. Then she said, <i>"It's a giant steak. I
made an extra one for you to eat since Mommy and Daddy don't feed us.</i></span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">That's what I said to my teachers at
school."</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Just for the record: I
feed my kids food.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">On tommorow's breakfast menu:</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><b>BACON</b></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-77455195200865025732013-10-17T10:13:00.000-07:002013-10-17T10:13:00.787-07:00Challenging Times with the Kids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhflqIOQ2eo3fPEEAFKHCmqikkxo3wtryjYwwHcwQLlAiZAlPuBYtPfnTTlZHdamQLqD2CpkKpk2_4cRLdwVPX-TVMk-Oey49AzkFRfMQD_fBQoln85qlxpsVlerm6sC3z4YzzGtyUcYlw/s1600/QuirkyMomChallenges2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Challenging Times with the Kids ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhflqIOQ2eo3fPEEAFKHCmqikkxo3wtryjYwwHcwQLlAiZAlPuBYtPfnTTlZHdamQLqD2CpkKpk2_4cRLdwVPX-TVMk-Oey49AzkFRfMQD_fBQoln85qlxpsVlerm6sC3z4YzzGtyUcYlw/s320/QuirkyMomChallenges2.jpg" title="Challenging Times with the Kids ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let me start by saying I love my kids. I love them to pieces. However, I am not one
to sugar coat stuff. If things are bad, I'll tell you. If they are great, I'll
tell you that too. Lately, things
have been challenging . . . </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">like teeth grinding challenging</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Their recent sleep
patterns bring me back to the times when they were newborns. Though I loved those times, it's a
bittersweet reminder that I am perfectly content with my family of four. I'm
tired, go back to sleep kids!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Recently my kids have entered into a monkey see monkey do
phase. You know what? It sucks. I try my best to keep them busy and engaged in activities that are fun
for them, because this monkey see monkey do crap is less likely to present
itself. To be completely honest though,
life isn't always about fun and games. There are obligations . . . like buying groceries. Shopping with my kids,<i> sighhhhhhh</i>. Somebody
might as well throw a brick at my face, because it would probably be more pleasurable.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYa8Nv6AuRFym9P2zvZqTg9_TyTPHGEfgUigYwt9U4tLVxwCrrqotfR-Y6HHGN189fopBOsLoCPiMa0Clbxq_i1JUaD0duB8x8NzSNDdQYZVrHcFUR3Mg0UWVRRoSUi4QdXfSxr1QArtA/s1600/MonkeySeeMonkeyDo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="Monkey See: Challeging Times with the Kids ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYa8Nv6AuRFym9P2zvZqTg9_TyTPHGEfgUigYwt9U4tLVxwCrrqotfR-Y6HHGN189fopBOsLoCPiMa0Clbxq_i1JUaD0duB8x8NzSNDdQYZVrHcFUR3Mg0UWVRRoSUi4QdXfSxr1QArtA/s200/MonkeySeeMonkeyDo.jpg" title="Monkey See: Challeging Times with the Kids ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Over the weekend I thought we'd kill two birds with one
stone. The prior week had been filled up with several play dates that included
apple picking, pumpkin picking, the mall play place, and several visits to the
park.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I figured taking a "me"
day wasn't out of the question. My mom had offered to get me a new purse for my
upcoming birthday.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> You know,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> a real bag, a
nice one!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I've always been into nice
bags, but for the past three years I have been sporting around the "trendy" diaper bag. I was ready for a change, and she wanted me to pick it out.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The 45 minute drive to my mom's house is
always more fun with company, so I opted to bring my kids along.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Plus, my mom was excited when I said I was considering bringing them both. A visit with Nana and a new bag. A win/win, right? </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Who was I kidding? </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">That shopping trip was a nightmare.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It all started when we arrived at the store and I took
the stroller out of the car. My oldest
hasn't ridden in a stroller or shopping cart for a very long time so I no longer
tote the massive double stroller around. She does a great job holding your hand while walking, so I now stick to
the single stroller for my youngest. Let's just say, that doesn't go over so
well. Naturally, my youngest wants to
follow her big sister's lead and walk. I
warned my mother about this, and she has always said to me "<i>Remember,
you're the boss</i>." Charlotte is
still little, and in my opinion at her age, in situations like this, she should
be riding in a stroller but, like I've said before, with small kids you pick your battles. I figured this would be a quick trip in and
out. I'd put her in the stroller, she'd
cry for maybe a minute, then be fine. Of course, I was wrong, very wrong!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2UZ10C8mHoSl7s8pNXZoBExL0TNSBi8ICoDGtObM1uNINCiRaD1heqK9CBxXR9pgSV1XzLK-54CEns5hGycQJ8JPdpq_52OjIctXtstfZLKkwqgzzpMRQdIdDYEuZIxINCHjbjNHA6E/s1600/panic-button.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="Hitting the Panic Button ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI2UZ10C8mHoSl7s8pNXZoBExL0TNSBi8ICoDGtObM1uNINCiRaD1heqK9CBxXR9pgSV1XzLK-54CEns5hGycQJ8JPdpq_52OjIctXtstfZLKkwqgzzpMRQdIdDYEuZIxINCHjbjNHA6E/s200/panic-button.png" title="Hitting the Panic Button ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Well, as we all know, no shopping
adventure with kids in tow is a quick trip. (What was I thinking?) Secondly, Charlotte didn't cry for a minute,
she wailed for five minutes before I finally took her out of the stroller. I figured since my mom was there to help out it wouldn't be too bad. Once she was freed from said stroller she immediately greeted a fellow onlooker with a
great big smile and a "hello!" Okay. . . so all is well now, I can get my bag, right? Wrong. During the couple of minutes that I took to look around, my kids set off
at least 15 security alarms attached to these purses and they did this while under the
watchful eye of my mother and I. I'm not
joking, we were right there and it turned into a game of who could set the most alarms. Now, I'm not sure when or who invented these snazzy new security devices that attach to the bags and have a button that, when pushed, sends the alarm into panic mode. (<i>Whoever you are, thanks buddy!</i>) At any rate my kids figured out exactly how to make these things screech and they found great joy in pulling away from my
mom and I to do so. With several
alarms going off all at once, the store sounded more like a birds of prey
exhibit at the ecotarium than your standard department store. I was mortified,
and figured it would be best to get out of there . . . quick. We went to another department store where
this same thing happened, again. I'm not sure which kid started this awful
button pushing nightmare, but the noise was horrid. We left that store too but not before getting my bag and dealing with two massive
temper tantrums because we did not buy the black and white polka-dot shoes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh, well. Kids will be kids, so the saying goes. Lesson learned from <i>my </i>unfortunate adventure in shopping . . . when you take your next "ME" day, LEAVE the kids at home!</span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-87707523046562002752013-10-11T11:17:00.000-07:002013-10-11T11:17:52.036-07:00My Mommy Meltdowns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLVBjZ5ZVlxF0R7yS-KxDkFqX5EwfK_Ll1jVEFTJnxRcsvZ6cdDY_j3Rl-_5-QbM6AexPZSOYtD3Mlln4FPUahBU3gr7F3vgXdfi3NDTjwAJGKWeASRAmA7x7AMpBf9k_EP8w7TGcdYfc/s1600/Sad_Quirky+Mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="My Mommy Meltdowns ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com #momblog #SAHM" border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLVBjZ5ZVlxF0R7yS-KxDkFqX5EwfK_Ll1jVEFTJnxRcsvZ6cdDY_j3Rl-_5-QbM6AexPZSOYtD3Mlln4FPUahBU3gr7F3vgXdfi3NDTjwAJGKWeASRAmA7x7AMpBf9k_EP8w7TGcdYfc/s320/Sad_Quirky+Mom.jpg" title="My Mommy Meltdowns ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com #momblog #SAHM" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This week has been rough. My kids made me cry.
Twice. I'm not exactly sure what drove me to this point, but I do know
this . . . typically I can brush the sometimes crazy days off and start each
new day with a smile. I figure if I can get to 12:30 PM, any given day,
without dropping the f-bomb under my breath it's a good day. That wasn't
the case this past week. I'm going to chalk it up as a default
considering one day, or actually one night, started when my oldest decided to
get up at 11:30 PM and went the entire following day without napping. I
tried my best to ignore the very loud singing that went on for four hours straight
that night, but after several reminders that everyone else was sleeping and she
needed to be quiet and go back to bed, it just wasn't happening and I gave up.
The very next night my youngest started her day at 2:30 AM, and just kept going
and going like the Energizer Bunny on some sort of speed. I wanted to run
away. I had visions of someplace tropical, but would have settled for an
hour to myself to indulge in a very strong Belvedere martini . . . extra
dirty. I can totally understand how some stay at home moms turn into stay
at home alcoholics. <i>(This is coming from someone who rarely drinks.)</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVCigvrPhQ8qBwV6wMklIUEnec9JQ22hXW97RAufwDMCHz7G6t9hrrVpIjw9S62BrZ7soWIiIW3ZacbYa_uP6o1OuFWwNzo1dyRfM40oBU9eR16t1zAHKyycDzS7z-cBOHAO3edJ5lW4/s1600/blue_martini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mommy Meltdowns & Martinis ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com #mommyblog" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHVCigvrPhQ8qBwV6wMklIUEnec9JQ22hXW97RAufwDMCHz7G6t9hrrVpIjw9S62BrZ7soWIiIW3ZacbYa_uP6o1OuFWwNzo1dyRfM40oBU9eR16t1zAHKyycDzS7z-cBOHAO3edJ5lW4/s200/blue_martini.jpg" title="Mommy Meltdowns & Martinis ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com #mommyblog" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The lack of sleep, temper tantrums and constant arguments over
toys was really taking its toll on not only them, but myself as well. One
morning I decided to do something kind of silly to see if I could sway our
moods in a different direction. It wasn't really silly, it was dumb. Well,
I thought it was silly, my kids thought it was dumb. I had a stray helium
balloon that I decided to pop and suck some of the helium out of. As I
entered the room trying to contain my high pitched, helium laughter, I said <i>"Hey Kids, look at me! I'm your
Motha!"</i> <i>(As you can tell, I was clearly starting to lose my
marbles.) </i>Kid one screamed at the top of her lungs and yelled <i>"What
are you? You're not my mother!!"</i> Kid two gave me the
dirtiest look I've ever seen a child give, then turned around and walked
away. My attempt at some early morning humor failed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Later that day my oldest peed on our $2000 couch. Yeah, that
pretty much sums up that day. Well, with the exception of bickering over every
single toy in our house. The snatching toys . . . I can't take it. It
happens all. The. Time. My three year old gets my count to three
tactic. It works like a charm. <i>"If you don't give that back I'm
going to have to count to three."</i> I get half way through one and
it's pretty much the equivalent of Chinese water torture in her eyes. <i>"NOOO!
Don't count to three, I'll give it back!!" </i>My youngest on the
other hand thrives on me counting to three. The look she gives as I start to
count is similar to the look that a child petting their brand new puppy for the
very first time would have. Pure excitement. <i>"Yeah, do
it! Count to three. Do it. Do it."</i> It's pretty
awful. Let's just say she's going through a testy phase.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Today, my "testy" one made her way up onto the kitchen
counter and into a shopping bag that had chocolate cupcakes with orange
frosting in it. This happened during the 47 seconds that I was in the
bathroom. By the time I cleaned the chocolate off of her hands and face, it
dawned on me that I too was now covered in chocolate and had little time to
change my clothes. (If you read my past blogs, you may remember my oldest
freaks out about stains on her shirt. Yeah, she must get that from me.) Despite
my looking like I just took a float down Willie Wonka's chocolate river, I did
not have time to change. I had five minutes to get to preschool to pick up my
oldest. Plus, I wanted to prove a point to her . . . it's okay to get
dirty. Thank god for curb side pick-up, or people may have thought I was
home stuffing my face with chocolate cupcakes all morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">On a good note, my youngest is turning two in a month. That
explains some of the testy behavior. On that same day, I’ll be turning
37. My oldest reminded me of that this morning. She said <i>"Mommy,
you look so good!"</i> I took this as a compliment, then she said, <i>"For
a big, old 24 year old. You have a birthday coming up soon too . . . 47,
right?"</i> To add insult to injury, I actually did have to count on my
fingers to figure out how old I was going to be. The day I turn 47, I mean
37, is the day I'm treating myself to that martini! Cheers to testy
behaviors, terrible twos, good health, and everything in between!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Have you had a mommy meltdown recently? I would love to hear about it, please share!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-82606144901972473502013-10-06T07:10:00.001-07:002013-10-06T07:10:39.245-07:00My Bucket List of things to do with My Kids<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white;">Everyone has visions of things they want to do with their kids while they're still young, right? Making lasting memories is fun! Not only for them, but for you too!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Here's my list:</b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bxjfqg3tCWfVzBHM-PqWZ8gm6oP1q9C8Hjr0WXeaDicNPxLRG7xspYNDyDXakXlhycRNs3TH34ywesjiVnuwbl6qGzf0VRD2PJGgZpYsqLho5o17itOJc_wFP30RJXngfem3a46sVgg/s1600/Mickey-Mouse-Ears.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="My Bucket List of things to do with My Kids: Disney ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" height="105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bxjfqg3tCWfVzBHM-PqWZ8gm6oP1q9C8Hjr0WXeaDicNPxLRG7xspYNDyDXakXlhycRNs3TH34ywesjiVnuwbl6qGzf0VRD2PJGgZpYsqLho5o17itOJc_wFP30RJXngfem3a46sVgg/s200/Mickey-Mouse-Ears.png" title="My Bucket List of things to do with My Kids: Disney ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1. A trip to Disney</span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I did this as a kid and boy do I have memories. I mean who doesn't like the sound of mouse ears, sunshine and Space Mountain? <i>(Well, maybe my husband since he is not a fan of roller coasters.) </i>It's okay, he can stick to the Tea Cups and those flying Dumbos. I don't like rides that spin.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMidKMm9LJe6zlohJuhQHqG1RhTJBnSjhJnc5EADgLzTaKfXxeXxLS7vKPMYBiludm-ItMZ5Nl_ne6goRIiu46kgbp-KiIgGquQrWvEVFJrVnlc6TZ32mOZ-EEclZ_Ot1uXF9cjEn_tLg/s1600/kiss-band-fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="My Bucket List for My Kids: See a Concert ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMidKMm9LJe6zlohJuhQHqG1RhTJBnSjhJnc5EADgLzTaKfXxeXxLS7vKPMYBiludm-ItMZ5Nl_ne6goRIiu46kgbp-KiIgGquQrWvEVFJrVnlc6TZ32mOZ-EEclZ_Ot1uXF9cjEn_tLg/s200/kiss-band-fire.jpg" title="My Bucket List for My Kids: See a Concert ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="200" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>2. Take my kids to a concert</b></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Like a real rock concert. No Elmo, Fresh Beat Band, or Biebers. <i>(I'm not saying I won't do that too, just no Justin . . . I can't stand that Bieber boy.)</i> I'm talking about Kiss, or maybe P!NK. I'd do this even if it's just for pure shock value.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">3. Dance in the rain, </span><span style="background-color: white;">climb some trees, </span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">lick the beaters </span></span></b><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(yeah I know, egg free ones)</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">These basics are sometimes the most fun!</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>4. Play Hooky </b></span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(I won't get mad)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let me start by saying I do not encourage skipping school in any way, shape, or form. Maybe it will be a trip to the American Girl store on your birthday, or maybe when you're older you'll take a day to go to the beach with friends. If you <i>(my kids)</i> somehow stumble across this post when you're in high school, you have my permission to take a day to do something fun. ONE day without consequences. Everybody needs their own Ferris Bueller's day off.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Just don't do anything too stupid, or there will be consequences.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqiOcjw0JZIob5u0AVr3mKEw-OCItpBv632WajYgJfKQ43qt11TWtSGSwUKPoBg3krp3i5AczhkedhgWVrtUQMgOC6o0331bnb7_a39EdCB9r9dNpsoVjQRC3Mik1_FDNVnSCCUglPdk/s1600/climbing+trees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img alt="My Bucket List for My Kids: Take Risks ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipqiOcjw0JZIob5u0AVr3mKEw-OCItpBv632WajYgJfKQ43qt11TWtSGSwUKPoBg3krp3i5AczhkedhgWVrtUQMgOC6o0331bnb7_a39EdCB9r9dNpsoVjQRC3Mik1_FDNVnSCCUglPdk/s320/climbing+trees.jpg" title="My Bucket List for My Kids: Take Risks ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="239" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">5. Encourage my kids to take risks</span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you feel confident, do it! Daredevil stunts help overcome fears, build confidence and maybe even break bones. <i>(Not that I hope for that, but it happens.)</i> It's part of life. Let's just keep the climbing at the playground and not on my kitchen counters . . . I promise the playground is your place to be free, and I'll let you.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-30336104961688892372013-09-25T12:40:00.000-07:002013-09-25T12:40:36.598-07:00The Perfect Day: Was It A Sign?<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Let me start by saying nobody is perfect and perfect days
are hard to come by. They're a dime a
dozen and though most days are good, I usually have at least a few moments with
my kids that aren't so good. Maybe it's
a temper tantrum about leaving the park, or the struggle of trying to get them
to eat a decent meal. Most often it's breaking up an argument over a toy, or
what seems like several arguments these days. This stuff happens, and I expect
it to with a three and almost two year old.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This perfect day started out no different than any other
day . . . well maybe a little different.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I
woke up feeling a tad bit out of sorts. Actually, I held it together, but I was
feeling sad.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I've found myself thinking
about my grandmother a lot lately. Truthfully, I think about her everyday, but
I don't typically get emotional over it.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This week marks two years since she's passed away. I miss her. I'm well
aware that I'm going to contradict myself by saying this, but if I could
describe her in one word, it would be this - Perfect.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This woman raised six kids of her own.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Yeah, six!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Anyone who can raise six kids of their own and still be sane is a hero in
my book.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">She had a boatload of grandkids
too, and spent a lot of her free time knitting us things.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">She knit sweaters, hats, mittens and
blankets.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">When she was bored, she'd knit
our favorite stuffed animals things.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">She
had a few great grandkids too, my oldest being one of them. Lanie was lucky to
get some of the hand knit Nana goods, and Charlotte was just as lucky to have
them handed down to her.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Though both my
kids have outgrown these baby sweaters, I continue to hold on to them for safe
keeping. They never seem to make my "give-away" pile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The funny thing about this specific morning was that my
kids asked to play with their cards.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(Over the years I have saved every card they've received from birthdays,
holidays, or whatever the occasion might be.) I remember as a child my mom had
done the same for me. I'd sit for hours looking through those cards and my kids
do the same with theirs. Most of the time they'll sit on the floor digging
through the massive pile looking for the ones coated with the most
glitter.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">They like to pick it off and
pretend it's "fairy dust". I don't really care, and it keeps them
busy. Plus, there are so many cards that fighting over any specific one is
rarely an issue. As I made their breakfast my oldest approached me with one
particular card, <i>"Can you read this?</i></span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This one is my very favorite."</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It wasn't her usual go to card. The norm </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">would have been any card that
resembled Tinker Bell</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">vomiting
"fairy dust" all over it, or one smothered in so much glitter that
it would require you to dig out your dust pan and broom after it was
touched.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">This card was simple. The front
read "A Star Is Born". I opened it up, and there was her perfect, and
very distinct</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">penmanship.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It was a card given to Me/Lanie from my grandmother
the day Lanie was born. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Out of at
least</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">150 cards sprawled all over our
family room floor, she picked the simple one with the small, yellow star on the
front. This was her favorite that day. It contained a small note, and was
signed "Love from, Nana".</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The
timing seemed perfect.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">The day continued to flow in a direction that I'm not
really used to. Well, I am used to it,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">just not all at once. There is always that one, or some times more than
one thing that will cause some minor, or sometimes major turmoil. The day was
filled with good manners, role model behaviors and lots of hugs, giggles and
smiles from my kids.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Put it this way, I
gave my kids a bath and there was no flooded bathroom. I cut their nails and
there wasn't the usual wrestling match that ALWAYS comes along with doing so. I
ran two errands and nobody tried to throw unnecessary items in the shopping cart,
and no one tried to run away. BOTH of my kids took a nap. That NEVER
happens!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I seriously considered buying a
scratch ticket that afternoon because I was feeling pretty lucky.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Instead, my husband and I took the girls out
to dinner where they sat happily eating their THIRD meal of the day!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(Sitting and actually eating three meals in one
day is unheard of in this house.)</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">We had
ice cream for desert, and then hit the park where my kids DID NOT throw temper
tantrums when it was time to leave.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(Again, that hardly ever happens.)</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It was one of those days that just seemed too easy. (Not
that I'm complaining.) Was it a coincidence, or some sort of sign?</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'll probably never know, but I do know
this . . . it was perfect.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-27110239898009843662013-09-18T12:41:00.000-07:002013-09-18T12:41:07.461-07:00Fact or Fiction? . . . With Kids, Hard to Tell!<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">FACT: </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My oldest started preschool last week. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So far she loves it, and has shown no signs
of separation anxiety.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No tears!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (From me or her.)</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_4c16AxBMJOsDnsfDHn_B4ng2sul-7ze6Ax5kpfK2P7lINoUOYvsHM2Hg4Lv8YWdLIpA-aWPMcO3Oj1Mm4VInwtKDrd_IVM-w2-Hstm0YGmLPLjM6CdF3Cu7zyAP2I22s2ORBtscfiE/s1600/Quirky+Kid+Preschool.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Fact or Fiction, Quirky Kid's First Day of Preschool ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_4c16AxBMJOsDnsfDHn_B4ng2sul-7ze6Ax5kpfK2P7lINoUOYvsHM2Hg4Lv8YWdLIpA-aWPMcO3Oj1Mm4VInwtKDrd_IVM-w2-Hstm0YGmLPLjM6CdF3Cu7zyAP2I22s2ORBtscfiE/s400/Quirky+Kid+Preschool.JPG" title="Fact or Fiction, Quirky Kid's First Day of Preschool ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="275" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">FACT: </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm not surprised by her ability to jump right in
and have no issues during drop off.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Although, I'm very aware that this could change at any time.) I am
surprised that I didn't lose my cool on her first day and cry her entire class
a river to play in.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I purposely wore no
eye makeup that morning because I was 99.9% sure this would happen. I must have
looked like real crap considering I was up at 4:30 AM just thinking about
leaving her. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">FACT: I had far more anxiety than she did.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After dropping her off I had a brief orientation, then a
full hour to myself. My mother in law was watching my youngest and I was at a
complete loss . . . I was kid free?! What should I do?</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> . . . </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I ran a quick errand and got coffee. It was
the best coffee I've had in a long time. It was hot, unlike the coffee that
sits on my counter every morning waiting for me to chug down in between making
breakfast, cleaning up and getting my kids dressed.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I enjoyed it, but at the same time I watched
my car clock like a hawk. I was counting down the minutes until it was time to
head back to school and hear all about Lanie's day. I arrived early, and was
welcomed back by the center director. She told me the kids were outside and
encouraged me to take a peek out the window. I watched her play. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">FACT: This brought a huge smile to my face.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">She was happy to see me waiting when she walked in, and
was excited to tell me about all the fun stuff she did on the car ride home.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is where fact and fiction get hard to decipher.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She told me she played with boys called
twins.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is a fact. I met them when I
dropped her off, and she was quick to head over and play blocks with them.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She told me she loved using scissors. (Something I have not done with her.) She showed me the motions of using a
scissors, and said she needed some of her own for at home. <i>"I need my own
scissors, golden ones. I need to cut Charlotte's hair."</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is a FACT: she did not learn how to use
scissors from me. It's also a fact that we'll stick to using scissors at
school, at least for now.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We don't need
her younger sister getting any unwanted haircuts. She told me that her whole
class went to Marshall's to buy new shoes.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm 100% sure that this is FICTION, but it gave me a good laugh.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmjkJq2OAC9oKvkT-4G5uflqAxi9PUFLsMoDZUBBwQC-UsflOXdsIJxn_AdECcwK4XcLPDS4NJXOON054uLBn6XIdJvBW0v8yiER3zkXPV9ye3DqjHhEKSp4cYNsmxA_KAFw8RoIeHBuQ/s1600/Quirky+Kid+Sad+Face.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Fact or Fiction, Quirky Kid's Sad Face ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmjkJq2OAC9oKvkT-4G5uflqAxi9PUFLsMoDZUBBwQC-UsflOXdsIJxn_AdECcwK4XcLPDS4NJXOON054uLBn6XIdJvBW0v8yiER3zkXPV9ye3DqjHhEKSp4cYNsmxA_KAFw8RoIeHBuQ/s320/Quirky+Kid+Sad+Face.JPG" title="Fact or Fiction, Quirky Kid's Sad Face ~ thequirkyconfessions.com" width="275" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">On her second day she was not as quick to offer up info
about her morning.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That's when I drilled
her for it. (Bad idea.) <i>"Did you have fun?"</i></span><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"What did you do?"</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"What are your new friends
names?"</span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> </i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is what I got: </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"YES, I HAD FUN."</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"I got green marker on my shirt and it
made me angry." "My new best friend is Polka Dot, okay?!"</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm pretty sure the had fun part was a FACT,
and that she was just angry that I was asking her so many questions all at
once.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The green marker on her shirt was
a FACT, and she was beyond pissed about </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">it.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I explained to her that its okay to get dirty, dirty means fun!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Plus your mom is a master with a stain
stick . . . relax! </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">(She's a little prissy
when it comes to getting dirty sometimes . . . we're working on that.) As far as
"Polka Dot" goes, I'm pretty sure that's FICTION.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Although, I should ask her teachers for a
class list.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">You never know with all
the</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">unique names people come up with
these days. My sincere apologies if your reading this and have a "Polka
Dot" of your very own.</span><br />
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All and all preschool has been a big hit for all of us . . . except for my youngest who is upset that she isn't old enough to go to preschool yet!</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Nothing that some
munchkins from Dunkin Donuts can't take care of.)</span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-73120371823046337582013-09-12T10:31:00.000-07:002013-09-12T10:31:44.465-07:00Kids: You Better Not Pout, You Better Not Cry<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Okay, so it's September
and perhaps it's a little too early to be tossing out the whole Santa is
watching you card . . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Forget it, it's NEVER too early. If the stores
can throw Christmas out there before </span><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT111_com_zimbra_date" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Thanksgiving</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">, or in some cases before Halloween, so can I. Honestly, my kids gave me the idea.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixg8NkQDbJ2H7p_OPVs0vM-X1cUX89ZTaR27r9Njd1xkF3cyYpCQFVMmgCRKIKA-96BfidlPTUW5WmVuCEM2YlL9jwaD0HGw2W9H-KYSg1iFgL3FrzLUsm7XsihWxSQYLdhFGXYUwC_1o/s1600/QuirkyXmas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="You Better Not Pout, You Better Not Cry ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixg8NkQDbJ2H7p_OPVs0vM-X1cUX89ZTaR27r9Njd1xkF3cyYpCQFVMmgCRKIKA-96BfidlPTUW5WmVuCEM2YlL9jwaD0HGw2W9H-KYSg1iFgL3FrzLUsm7XsihWxSQYLdhFGXYUwC_1o/s320/QuirkyXmas.JPG" title="You Better Not Pout, You Better Not Cry ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="239" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">For
the past two weeks my three year old has been fixated on Santa. (I find this
amusing since this is our Santa picture from last year). For the record:
I DID NOT want to be included in this picture, it was the only way I
could get my girls within a ten foot radius of the big guy. Trust me,
despite my efforts of trying to run away, the photographer convinced me
that it would be great for me to just "join in, take the picture with
them!" Ugh. To this day I consider it a miracle that I was able to pry
them from my legs, and cough up the $25 bucks for this gem of a pic.
However, I was firm when declining the $50 jumbo pack "deal". Anyway,
my oldest has been talking about presents, </span><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT113_com_zimbra_date" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Christmas</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">
trees and is even making up her own little jingles about Santa and
Elves. My youngest is quick to follow her big sister's lead, so it's
been just like living in the North Pole around here, although I'm
starting to wonder if Hell is around the corner.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Please excuse my
bitterness . . . I've been living on caffeine and DayQuil for two days
straight. I haven't been sick in a long time, and these are the only
things that are keeping me going. On a side note, there should be some
sort of rule that states - IF YOU'RE A MOM, YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO GET
SICK. BAH-HUMBUG. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So, I feel like I got hit by a bus, and with
my kids constantly bickering about who Santa's favorite little helper
is, the days have seemed pretty tiring. Things took a turn for the worse
</span><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT115_com_zimbra_date" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">this morning</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">
when my husband left for work and I no longer had my weekend long, tag
team partner to help out. Sick mom against the sassy Santa loving
sisters who are going through a what's mine is mine phase.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">It's
funny, people always said to me when I had my girls close together that
they would be the "bestest of friends . . . just wait and see." I'm still
waiting. Good things come in time I guess, and like any siblings,
there's rivalry.</span><br />
<span class="Object" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrBZeB-7UjP7RsJ_yQ0COh0foUNkH9C_5Jdwf_CpBzJrwPQyJ0TUu_Ikwp09-ZPZoeoVgR7yxhJIpwpy9OQYoRgC7hXk1aPd1XqoOY3WQEfIv0mPnFxNpt6fM5XgiuYNlGVosfyVymdAk/s1600/981053_thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Santa says, You Better Not Pout, You Better Not Cry ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrBZeB-7UjP7RsJ_yQ0COh0foUNkH9C_5Jdwf_CpBzJrwPQyJ0TUu_Ikwp09-ZPZoeoVgR7yxhJIpwpy9OQYoRgC7hXk1aPd1XqoOY3WQEfIv0mPnFxNpt6fM5XgiuYNlGVosfyVymdAk/s200/981053_thumbnail.jpg" title="Santa says, You Better Not Pout, You Better Not Cry ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="176" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT117_com_zimbra_date" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
my kids fought about whose mini muffins were bigger. They fought over
who was going to wear a blue winter hat and who was going to wear a red
winter hat. (I'm well aware that it's not winter hat weather, but my
kids dug them out and apparently wearing the red hat means you're
Santa.) </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The final draw was when they got into a full fledged, royal
rumble over who was going to be the singer and who was going to be the
drummer while singing a song they made up called "Santa, Santa All The
Way". Drum sticks were flying and winter hats were being stomped on
while I'm sitting there wishing I was stuck in an office cubicle with a
box of tissues. (I hardly ever wish my stay at home mom days away for a
job in an office,</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> but feeling under the weather has clearly gotten the
best of me.) So, out it came, </span></span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">"You know what? I'll bet if you guys keep
acting like this Santa will skip our house. No presents, no stockings,
just reindeer poop! He watches EVERYTHING, and only visits kids that
behave!" </span></i></span></blockquote>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Their mouths dropped to the floor and from that point on the
fighting stopped. </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I don't like reindeer poop!" </i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What's the over under
on me being able to put an Elf on the Shelf to watch over them while I curl
up on the couch for a nap this afternoon? I'll probably have to settle
for another cup of coffee and some cold meds. On the plus side, I've totally
got Santa on my side.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2195445566768220526.post-19415033338183368212013-09-03T07:33:00.000-07:002013-09-03T07:33:04.892-07:00 The Limit Testing Button Pushers a.k.a. KIDS<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;">I said
it before and I'll say it again, when it comes to your kids it's always best to
pick your battles wisely. I had far more battles than I'd like to fight this
week starting with a trip to the mall for new fall clothes.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLotlG1pEdh6izg5rW823lkYg-AaKJkLK-EkO19SPQT1_Qkspggt00GyGtViBOkxgGDtP_rzjJnDD-oAG6b1eV8IQFQMcwNNQuUwnMysTZ_xo7INimVGv0n1WdcensayY9kFjlNcSQEU/s1600/akakids_QuirkyMemes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Limit Testing Button Pushers a.k.a. KIDS ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLotlG1pEdh6izg5rW823lkYg-AaKJkLK-EkO19SPQT1_Qkspggt00GyGtViBOkxgGDtP_rzjJnDD-oAG6b1eV8IQFQMcwNNQuUwnMysTZ_xo7INimVGv0n1WdcensayY9kFjlNcSQEU/s320/akakids_QuirkyMemes.jpg" title="Limit Testing Button Pushers a.k.a. KIDS ~ TheQuirkyConfessions.com" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;">The
car ride over consisted of my oldest not liking any song that came on the
radio. <i>"Who sings this song?"</i> Well, since she's not a fan of
your typical kids jams and Barney sing-alongs, or whatever the kids listen to
these days, it was Katy Perry's new hit playing about about some eye of
the tiger roaring or something. <i>"This is NOT Katy Perry, and I DO
NOT like this song."</i> Ok fine, <i>it is</i> Katy Perry, but let's find
something else. Three radio stations later and now my youngest chiming in that
she doesn't like any of the songs, the radio was turned off. Now they are
both yelling and screaming for songs. (I am the sucker that gave them one
more chance, because frankly I could not handle the screaming in my ears while
I was driving.) Dumb move, should have stuck to my guns . . . no radio.</span><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">BATTLE 1: </span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">MY Car, MY radio . . . I would sacrifice my song preferences if you
actually liked the damn Wiggles, but you don't. So, therefore, no songs.</span></span></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">We got
to our destination and it was a fresh start. They were both excited to get out
of the car and start our adventure. This adventure consisted of my oldest
having a meltdown about me not buying her a black sequined, woman's size 10
ball gown for her first day of school outfit. Oh, and my youngest stole a pair
of purple glitter pants off a clothing rack and stuffed them in her stroller. She made it all the way to the car with them before me noticing. Prying those horrid glitter pants from her grip and returning them to the
store was definitely not a puppies and rainbows kind of moment.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>BATTLE 2: </b></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not spending $95 dollars on a Michael Kors ballgown for your first day
of preschool outfit. (Even if it was on the clearance rack.) Also, I don't
condone stealing. (Even if you're too young to know better.)</span></span></span></blockquote>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Later
in the week my mother came over for a visit and we decided to take another
venture out shopping to get my oldest new school clothes since my last trip was
pretty unsuccessful. This was great, two sets of eyes are always better than
one especially when taking my youngest, "Sticky Fingers", out for a
trip to the mall. This trip was not much better. As my mother and I were
searching the racks for a specific size, my three year old decided to pull on
a rack of jackets causing the whole display to come crashing down. Luckily, she
was not hurt and it was just a big mess to clean up. She helped me pick
up the coats, and attempted to assist me in putting the rack back in place. When I asked her to please step back with Nana and let me do it, she
purposely pulled another jacket off the rack . . . and down they came, again. Is this fun? Do I look like I'm having fun? No, time to go.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We pushed our luck with one more stop on the way home. A children's
clothing store in a nearby plaza. I would not have stopped, but she
really needed clothes and there was a huge sign outside that read "Labor
Day Sale". Those four letters, S A L E are a stay at home mom's dream. Desperate for some new clothes, we ventured in. A
perfect, kid friendly atmosphere with a large Lego table and puzzles set up in
the middle of the store. As my kids played, my mother and I found a few
good buys. Our trip was successful, and it was time to go home. Pulling
my kids away from the Lego table that they were so happily playing at was
(insert sarcasm here) </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">*just peachy*</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. I asked my mother to grab a hold of
my youngest and I'd take the 40 pounder. Charlotte went to my mother fairly easy,
while Lanie was beyond furious to leave. She started in with a little
fuss about not wanting to leave, when a kind sales associate came over and
offered her a Mickey Mouse sticker. The woman left to get the sticker,
and I said to Lanie </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"As soon as she comes back, it's time to go."</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The fuss turned to a full fledged temper tantrum, and I scooped her up
kicking and screaming. She was yelling as we left the store. </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I don't like
it when you scoop me, I'm not ice cream."</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>BATTLE 3: </b></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If the sticker attempt actually worked, I would have been thrilled. Props to the sales associate for trying, but I kind of had a hunch that
this would be the outcome . . . you throw a fit like that, you don't get a
sticker.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span></span></blockquote>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>PS.</i> <i>Thanks for the scooping ice cream idea. That's just what I had for
dinner after you kids went to bed.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><o:p></o:p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16188194573611641036noreply@blogger.com0