School Daze

'Tis the season for those dreaded back to school commercials on TV. I guess some things never change. I personally was never a huge fan of school, but sometimes I find myself missing certain things about going. I never passed classes with flying colors, I got by. I had fun. If you could slap a grade on the social aspect of it all, I would have gotten an A+. You see, school is where I made a good majority of my friends. Some that I still have today. Well here I am, and those so called back to school commercials are here to haunt me, again. Except now for my daughters sake. No, I take that back. . . for my sake.
 

In just 336 hours, I hand my first born over to be under the care of others. I may be a little shaky with my math skills, (remember, I was more of a socializer) but who's counting. Okay, I'm not that obsessed that I'm counting down hours, but I am counting down the days. In 2 weeks, my child will start a new chapter. . . PRESCHOOL! I wish more than anything that I could be the parent that is jumping for joy and making up back to school, or in my case off to school jingles and jigs about shipping my kid off, but I'm not. It's only preschool though, so we've got a ways to go. I refuse to give up hope yet.

I have been so fortunate to be able to stay at home with my girls. This has by far been the most rewarding, challenging, tiring job that I have ever had. Parenting in general is, but I love it. I smile a lot, laugh a lot, and some days I just want to cry. I worked in a daycare for a little over 16 years. I was the teacher that you would hand your child over to, and I'd tell you on their first day that everything was going to be okay. . . and it was. It was great. Now that I'm on the other side of the fence, handing my child over, it's a whole different ballpark. Although, my kid thinks it's pretty awesome. For months now she has been saying that she's going to "college". Woah! Slow down! You're only three and you're going to preschool for a whopping two mornings, and a total of six hours a week ('Cause that's all your mother can handle right now.)

Last week a "Welcome to Preschool" letter arrived in the mail for Lanie. Even though I wanted to cry I put on a damn good front, and I jumped up and down with excitement right beside her. The letter suggested some essential items to start the school year off with, one being a backpack for storing artwork. She did not hesitate when saying she wanted a butterfly backpack. You bet your butt I ordered her one that night. Not only with butterflies, but with her name sewn on.  When it came in the mail we opened it, the jumping up and down with excitement started all over again. Then, I excused myself to go to the bathroom where I cried for a minute, and came out jumping up and down with my excited face on. I can tell you this much, becoming a parent has brought out a whole other side of me that I never knew existed. I'm a sap.

On a good note, I'm very happy that she is so excited to go off to preschool. I know she will do great. The time away will be good for both of us, and maybe she'll stop drawing "friends" on my back door with sticky Popsicle sticks (her latest hobby). I give it a month, and I'll bet my three year old has a better social life than me, and that's okay. . . I'll probably be exhausted from driving her around to play dates anyway.

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Kids Haircuts and Lollipops: A Tale That Will Stick

I have a love/hate relationship with lollipops. I love that I can easily bribe my kids into doing pretty much anything with them. I hate the aftermath. Lesson of the day - Lollipops suck...Well, they should be sucked.

A few weeks ago I took my three year old to get a haircut. She was beyond thrilled to go. She loves any, and all kinds of appointments. Dentist, doctor, you name it... but nothing beats the overpriced haircut that results in a trip to what resembles a young child's paradise. Cartoons on TV's, (note: my kids refuse to watch TV at home) fun music, a complimentary butterfly hair clip, a plastic, piece of crap toy and you guessed it, a lollipop. Her younger sister gets all this fun crap too, just for tagging along. Anyway, I continue to bring my kids to this money pit place because A. They enjoy it, and B. Anyone who is brave enough to go at a small child's head with a sharp object, and can actually be successful at it, is considered a talented pro in my book. Props to anyone who can cut a kids hair without making it look like a hack job. I've seen my share of hack job haircuts out there. You'll never catch me with scissors.

As usual my kids walked away happily sucking on their pops, and I was happy with the great job they did with her hair. Lanie, my oldest, will often devour her pop in one bite, while Charlotte tends to nurse hers. One.lick.at.a.time. This can go on for hours... No joke. When we got home I brought the girls into their playroom when it soon dawned on me that Charlotte was no longer holding her pop. Her hand was spared from the usual kung-fu grip. (A defense tactic she uses in attempts to keep it away from her jealous sister who ate her pop about an hour ago.) I asked where she put it. She kept saying "I share". Share with who?  "I share".  I searched for about 20 minutes and could not find it anywhere. This drove my slightly OCD self into a panic. Where the hell is it?!? Two weeks later, after several unsuccessful searches, my oldest found the pop. It was stuck to a life size stuffed duck. Aaah, she "shared" with the duck. This was not only a sense of relief that the pop was found, but a sense of accomplishment due to the fact that we now have one less jumbo sized, stuffed creature in this house. That duck made his way right to the trash barrel. Don't worry, my kids didn't even notice since they have plenty of other life sized stuffed animals creeping around here.

This week I decided to take my youngest, Charlotte, for her first hair cut. She did great, and again, I was very pleased with the outcome... A great haircut. Despite my oldest getting all the usual junk that comes with tagging along, she was floored that she was not getting her hair cut too. I explained to her that she just had her hair cut a couple of weeks ago, and she'll get another one next time. She responded loudly with - "I am going to run away and be Ke$ha." Ummm okay, she's three. She only knows Ke$ha from the radio in the car. She loves music, and will often ask who sings every song that comes on. Yes, I am guilty of listening to the radio verses The Wiggles... But seriously, it could have been worse. She could have said Nicki Minaj or something. It was kind of embarrassing, but on a good note, she did not attempt to run away.

As usual we got home and went into the playroom, and like always Lanie's pop was finished eons ago, and Charlotte had hers clenched in her fist for safe keeping. As I ran into the other room to answer the phone I suddenly heard "Oh no! What's that? What's that in my hair?" I ran back to the room, and sure enough Lanie was standing there with a sticky, orange lollipop dangling and knotted in the back of her hair. I'm not sure if Charlotte decided to "share" again, or if this was some sort of attempt by Lanie to get a haircut. Needless to say, she did not get a haircut. All she got was a bath. No more lollipops! Well, at least until the next haircut.

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Moving Forward . . . Time to Purge the Baby Gear

I always thought I wanted three kids. Being a parent for the past three years has led me, or maybe I should say my kids, to accumulate lots of "stuff". Stuff they outgrow in what sometimes seems like the blink of an eye. I've got high chairs, infant car seats, bouncy seats, an exersaucer, a swing and a floor gym. On top of the bags of clothes, baby toys and other random knick-knacks. I have kept this "stuff" in great condition, as I myself learned at an early age to take care of my belongings. Though these things aren't exactly mine, my husband and I would be the ones to replace them. As the saying goes, "Money doesn't grow on trees".

As my kids began to outgrow things, I'd clean them, bag them, and bring them downstairs to a spare bedroom where I'd nicely stack them. I've had everything stored for safe keeping. All ready for the next little bundle of joy. . . Well, I'm three years in now, and I look like a hoarder. If the TLC network caught a glimpse of this "spare bedroom", they may actually consider me for an episode of Hoarders Buried Alive. Then again, maybe not, since it's only one room, but still, it's just too much "stuff".

I made the decision this week that I am 100% (ok, maybe 99.9%) sure that I am very happy and content with the two girls that I have. I walked into the hoarding room, I mean spare bedroom, and glanced at everything. With a tad bit of hesitation I wrote up an ad and posted it. "For sale" blah blah blah "Everything must go." I got several responses... "What!? You're not going to go for a boy?" The answer is - No, we're not.  

To be completely honest, pregnancy and I don't agree. When I was pregnant, I felt great. . . physically. Most times I was able to fake that so called "pregnancy glow", but deep down I was far from great. I was a train wreck. Before having my girls, I had a handful of unsuccessful pregnancies resulting in miscarriage. Those were tough times, but we got through them. I believe everything happens for a reason. I also believe that being a parent is a privilege, and that my husband and I have been very lucky to have two wonderful, happy and healthy little girls. I feel complete. 

Part of me is sad to let go of all these belongings that hold such great memories. . . The car seat that both my kids rode home from the hospital in. . . the exersaucer that brought them both such joy. I could go on all day, so I'll stop there. Maybe you're a parent and catch my drift, or maybe you will be and you'll soon understand. I'm ready to let go now. I'm ready for new "stuff", and new memories, and maybe I can even get my spare bedroom back for a few months.

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My Top Mom Addictions

Here are my top mom addictions. What are yours?

1. Coffee

I need it, I want it, I have to have it . . . immediately. I get up 15 minutes before my kids, every day, to brew a pot and have a cup . . . okay, more like the pot. (minus the travel size mug my husband fills for work.) Some days if I feel like I'm running an insane asylum, I will pack my kids up and go to the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru. I always hope for that extra boost of energy, and go with the "If you can't beat em', join em'" attitude. It usually doesn't work, and I get roped into buying my kids munchkins. FAIL.

2. Taking pictures
    of my kids
"Oh look, you managed to climb onto the roof of your 5 foot high, outdoor play house. Not safe!" *Snap a pic* Do I think this is cute? No. It's proof of the craziness that can go on here at times . . . It kind of justifies all the coffee drinking. I need it to keep up with all these cute, and sometimes not so cute moments.

3. Candy Crush
Hi, my name is Laurel.  I am a 36 year old, mother of two who is addicted to crushing candy. Let's face it, sometimes you just need a break.
I promise, if my addiction ever leads to any of the sayings on these ecards, I'll stop . . . I think.

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